The Adventure of the Foreign Locality

Chapter 1 A reprint of the recollections of Dr. John H. Watson

IT WAS within the late spring when this singular case was, rather abruptly thrust upon Holmes and myself. As I do recall, a thunderstorm had cloaked the city all day, and, even by six p.m., hadn't cleared. If anything, it had actually gotten heaver, as the rumble of distant thunder had just started to occur. However, the pitter-patter of rain upon the windows was soothing, and had myself constantly glancing at the wall clock, reassuring myself that the evening had not yet arrived.

Sherlock Holmes was standing at the large window, looking down upon the cobblestone street. He often assumed this position, usually to watch for expected company, or smoke his antique pipe. The latter of the two was the case, tonight, as he snatched the box of matches from atop the fireplace. However, turning the box over, upon its top, not a single match fell out. As I was reading through the daily post, however, it came as a shock to me when he spoke, breaking the rather quiet atmosphere of the room.

"Someone has taken our matches," he stated, in his somewhat high, strident voice.

"I doubt that, Holmes. You must have used the last one up."

"That is highly unlikely, Watson. I think that someone else has tampered with them."

"There's no reason to be so sure that someone else is involved."

"I am not suggesting that an unknown source has committed this act. I already know who has done this."

"Well," I responded, demanding an answer. "Now, I must know!"

"Though the blame could be placed upon three people, it is you, Watson, who I place blame upon."

I simply could not stand for this accusation. "Holmes, how can you possibly!"

"It was a rather elementary deduction, my friend. My first point of notice: the dust patterns upon the top of the fireplace. "As you see," he said as he demonstrated, "when I retrieve the matchbox, I place my index finger, and thumb upon the edges, and lift directly upwards. However, the dust around the matchbox suggests that this individual used his middle finger, along with the index finger, and thumb!"

"How does that implicate me?" I asked.

Holmes placed his pipe down, upon his sitting-table, and walked over to the small table, next to me. "As you can see here, Watson, the dust around your reading glasses shows three fingers being used, instead of two. I can thus assume that you handle small objects with three fingers, a trait that differs between us."

"You do have a good point, however, I am not totally convinced."

"The second point of notice: was just under my nose." He said, going back to the place where he had been standing before. "As not a single match fell out, I happened to look upon the ground. Within the crevice between the brick and the carpet is a lone match. I know by the logic of physics, that the chances of a match falling into that exact place, is near impossible. Thus, I can deduce that our landlady, Mrs. Hudson, had recently swept the floors. You, as well as I, know that her eyesight is less then average. So, in conclusion, I can assume that you offered a guest a match, as you don't smoke. In replacing the matchbox, you placed it closer to the edge of the fireplace. In the end, Mrs. Hudson bumped the fireplace, knocking the matchbox upon the floor. It was then, in the middle of her sweeping, she discovered her mistake, and, thinking that more matches were still in the box, she replaced it, and discarded the other matches."

"Your account is only partially correct, Holmes. I had NOT offered a guest a match, nor did I ever touch the matchbox."

"In a slight permutation to my theory, I can assume that Mrs. Hudson was cleaning up the room earlier today, at a time when a dark cloud blocked the sun. She, then, used a match to light a candle… And, most likely dropped the matchbox upon the floor, and, as I had previously stated, she discarded of the matches."

"Well, Holmes, I must say that you have solved the mystery!" I replied, in a joking way. "Now I'll leave you to your smoke."

"To the contrary," replied Holmes, emptying the tobacco from his pipe, "My mind is already stimulated."

"Ironic" I chuckled, "in attempting to obtain stimulation, you were distracted by another form of stimulation."

"I'd converse with you more, Watson," he responded, fixed on something upon the street below, "However, I think that we may have a guest. And, with their brisk walk, and hurried nature, I can assume that we may have a case upon our hands..."