Chapter One - Back to Baker Street
In the winter of 1920 I received a letter from my good friend Sherlock Holmes. It was written in his familiar style, and read as follows,
'My dear Watson, I have received news of recent murders in London, and I intend to take up our old rooms in Baker Street once more. I will return to London in December, and send for you then, once I am settled. No case would be the same without you. I hope you will come to my side again. Yours sincerely, Sherlock Holmes.'
I traced my fingers across his signature before putting the letter aside. I recalled all the murders that had occurred recently: Veronica Howard, Bess Jones, Mary Bannatyne and Janet Hall were the names of the victims. Police were, as usual, stumped on the matter.
It was claimed that the murderer of Mary Bannatyne was a spurned lover, though he protested his innocence of the crime. Both the press and police were being vague about the details. However, I was convinced that if anyone could shed some light on it all, then it was Sherlock Holmes.
I received my summons from Holmes on the fourth of December. I had remained at home that day with my wife instead of taking my usual walk, and at approximately three-thirty in the afternoon the maid brought in a telegram for me. It stated,
'Have settled in at Baker Street. I am expecting you. S.H.' I excused myself from the room and was shortly ready for the visit. I took a cab and was on my way.
When I arrived at Baker Street I stood for a moment, gazing fondly at the familiar door of No.221B, before ringing the bell. I was quickly allowed in by a portly matron, who proceeded to show me to the rooms which I had once occupied with Holmes. When I entered the room, Holmes himself stood before the cheerfully blazing fireplace, with his back to me.
The room itself looked different. The furniture which had occupied the room during our stay was gone. Instead there was a mean-looking table with two chairs, a living-chair, and old-looking sofa and a gas lamp. Holmes turned to look at me.
"Watson, you are looking well. I suppose you live fairly comfortably."
"Yes; how did you know?" Holmes smiled.
"You have gained weight, yet it is not through illness, so you must eat well. Every article of clothing you are wearing is still new, although those shoes are pinching your feet. Clearly, you are well-fed and have money to spare."
"As always, you are correct, Holmes. We have not seen each other since the case with Van Bork."
"I did read your writings on that case – 'His Last Bow'. As ever, Watson, you allowed sentimentality to get in the way of what ought to have been a good analytical piece."
"As I have always said, if that is how you feel, then you ought to write them yourself."
"I have, as a matter of fact. I have included cases from before 'A Study in Scarlet', during my pre-Watson era, as well as my cases with you. However, I do not mean to publish them at present. I am being a terrible host; please sit." Holmes took the living-chair whilst I took the sofa. I noticed that he took a bottle of brandy and poured equal measures into two small glasses before handing one to myself.
"Holmes, when you wrote you mentioned the murders. Do you know anything?" I asked. Holmes took a sip of brandy before he replied,
"I have been unable to glean any information but the basics that were reported in the press. However, after I spoke to Mr Duncan, the man who was accused of the murder of Mary Bannatyne, I knew he was not responsible for it. I tracked down his alibi, a married woman who had spent the night with Mr Duncan, and prevailed upon her to do the right thing. I secured his freedom earlier today."
"What of the other murders?"
"Tomorrow I intend to pay a visit to the morgue. Will you be willing to join me?"
"You need hardly ask, Holmes," I replied, "Of course I shall go." Holmes smiled, and said,
"Meet me here again tomorrow at eight-thirty in the morning, and we shall go by cab."
We both drained our glasses before I left for home, and Holmes rang the bell for his dinner.