Just a short poem I wrote based on Holmes remark in A Study in Scarlet (ch4).
Through a mass of tangled thread
He carefully sifts
Noting the colour and texture of each one
He picks at a blue one here
Unwinds a grey one there
He follows the gold yarn till it ends
Slowly, carefully pulling out strand after strand
Until, finally, all the loose ends are joined
And the lone scarlet line is unveiled
He pulls it out, re-raveling it
And ties it into a neat little ball
Then he moves on, to the next pile of string
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Jfreak