The French Ghost
It was an evening of spring season in 1889, Sherlock Holmes and I have just solved a case which was by his own words "Rather dull,". When the cab turned into Baker Street I saw a man standing outside 221B through the window, a client, I thought, so I informed my companion. "It seems your day is not over, Holmes, we have a client."
"That's not a client." He said while looking out the window.
"Not a client? Then who the devil is that?"
"I know exactly who that is." He replied.
We got closer and I had a better look at him, he was heavily built and massive, there was a suggestion of uncouth physical inertia in the man, he also has deep-set eyes, he resembles that of my companion but he was a larger and stouter man. We got down from the cab and Holmes walked towards the man, "What are you doing here Mycroft?" said he.
"Mycroft? Mycroft Holmes? Your brother?" I asked peculiarly.
"Yes, this is my brother, Mycroft Holmes."
"Ah, Dr. John Watson, I see you have associated with my brother in his detective work." Mycroft articulated.
"Pleased to meet you, Holmes mentioned you quite a few times."
"Did he now?" Mycroft glanced towards Holmes and Holmes made a wry smile "Anyways, I'm not here to reconcile with my brother, my presence here should very well explain why."
"No." Sherlock Holmes muttered.
"I'm sorry?"
"No, Mycroft, you do not require my assistance."
"Right you are, brother dear, but you know me."
There was a moment of silence where I stood between the two brothers when the silence was broken, "If you are to discuss any matter then please do so inside, else you may leave." Holmes proclaimed. Mycroft agreed to these terms and we went up to our apartment and sat down on our respective chairs. "So what is it that you require of me?" Holmes inquired.
"Why, your intellectual skills."
"My intellectual skills? Wasn't it you who showed off when we were children?"
"I must admit," Mycroft turned to look at me, "This was the courtesy I expected. There is a man, Mr. Emánuel Martin, a Hungarian official who have has pictures of him and his wife taken by an assassin."
"And these pictures are for?"
"Blackmail, I thought by now you would already understand the situation." Mycroft turned towards Holmes
"I'm afraid I don't." Holmes remarked sarcastically.
"Sarcasm" I murmured.
"Indeed,"
"Well, this has been a lovely chat, 'brother dear', but I have other matters to attend to." Holmes stood up and strolled towards the table on the other side of the room.
"This case is of national importance, Sherlock."
"Well apparently that's not what you tell yourself is it Mycroft?"
Once again there was a moment of silence and I felt the tension between the two Holmes brothers, "Very well, I see that you have made up your mind, " Mycroft sighed, "Good day to you Dr. Watson," I replied with a smile, "You have a client coming Sherlock, au revoir." Mycroft departed leaving Holmes and I to await for the presence of our client.
A frenchman barged in the room, "Is this where monsieur Holmes resides?" he promptly inquired. "Yes, take a seat." Holmes asserted with his hand waving towards a chair while he sits on his. "Proceed." Holmes commanded.
"My master sent me as a representative since he is busy with his own matters, my master's name is monsieur Sébastien Arnaud" the frenchman said with an accent that wasn't quite French.
"No." Holmes said closing his eyes and resting on his armchair.
"Pardon me monsieur?"
"If Mr. Arnaud would condescend to state the case then I would be glad to listen." Holmes said reopening his eyes.
Our client stared at Holmes with a perplexed look on his face, "Very well then," our client took out his glasses and pulled out his false moustache, "I am indeed monsieur Sébastien Arnaud, ton ami here didn't find it out, how did you know?"
"I am Sherlock Holmes, it is my business to know what other people don't know. Now state your case."
"Well you see monsieur, on January 1889 a French nobleman came to London and was lost on the roads, I had him stay at my place until he found himself a home to settle down. During the time he was with me, we chatted a lot and soon became good friends but then he suddenly locked himself up in a room one day, I believe it was the 9th of February,"
I looked up to our calender hanging on the wall, 9th of March, a month has passed since the incident.
"He did not wish to see or even talk to anyone for days, he only asked that his meals are to be set outside the door and so we did as he asked,"
"We?"
"Oui, we, my servants and I."
"What were his usual outfits?"
"Umm, he would wear a white shirt inside and black overcoat over it, his pants were black as well and his shoes were always polished."
"And the type of shoes?"
"Civil war brogans."
"Continue."
"A few days later, we have heard nothing of him and his meals were left untouched outside his door, we dared not enter the room so we searched for him in the entire house. It was not more than thirty minutes that we found his body lying on the attic lifeless, he was dead for sure, we broke the news to his parents in France and they came by as soon as possible, weeping. It was not long before they brought his body back to France,"
"And the outfits of the parents?"
"Monsieur, is this some sort of detective work or are you just fooling around?"
"I beg your pardon?" Holmes stared at him with flaming eyes, "I do not fool around Mr. Arnaud, I require every single fact and details is all."
"Very well, they were both well dressed, formal yet casual. The father was a tall and traditionally handsome man, he wore gloves and had a cane on his hands. The mother was a young and beautiful woman, she wore gloves too and wore a dress"
"Not very essential." Holmes whispered.
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing, proceed."
"We had rumors circulating after that day, neighbours said they had seen the ghost of my friend walking around the streets and around my house, I would not have believed them unless I saw it for myself, which I did, it was around midnight when I was headed to my chambers where I saw him, walking in the hallway towards his bedroom, I panicked and have been for a day or so, then I came to see you, monsieur Holmes."
"You said you have servants?"
"Oui, but they have all gone to visit their family members."
"Very well, the case will be solved by tonight if we hurry, Watson, toss me my hat."
I picked up his hat on the table beside me and tossed it towards him, we then took our leave to Mr. Arnaud's residence. When we had reached the house, Mr. Arnaud was kind enough to give us a tour around which Holmes accepted incontestably. We were shown the living room with lamps the shape of doves lighting every corner of the house, the rooms of the ghost, the rooms of the servants, 's room, the library and so on. When the tour ended, my companion asked us to meet back again in the living room which we did. In there we were all seated by the fireplace when Holmes scribbled something on a piece of paper, he showed it to me once he was done and I was bewildered, he then handed the paper to our host. "Liar?" he stuttered, "What does that mean?" Holmes took a deep breath and said "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
"Excusez-moi?"
"In this case, there were two possibilities, one being that your friend actually became a ghost, another being that you lied to me. You told me that your friend died and was now a ghost, the idea of a ghost itself made me laugh and it was certainly out of the question, it was proved right when I saw a vaguely visible footprint on the carpet near the nobleman's room. If he was a ghost then there wouldn't be any footprints, then there was also a break in the dust line at the entrance to the nobleman's room which means someone has been there, not a ghost, it was flesh, it was human, this means that the first possibility was also mentioned that you have servants but when you showed us all the servant's rooms there was no sign or indication of anybody living or have ever lived there which means you have no servants. What does this mean? Well the footprints earlier matched those of your shoes, Mr. Arnaud, the break in the dust line was you trying to make sure that all evidence were in place. So piece up all the facts, the truth is that you have lied to us about this."
Our host gazed at Holmes in amazement, he clapped his hands and laughed, "You're as good as they say, congratulations, Mr. Holmes."
"An effortless case, come Watson, let us leave."
"But why did you do it. Mr. Arnaud?" I asked.
"It was all a distraction to a bigger game that is about to come." He smiled slyly and laughed.
"Watson."
"Coming, Holmes. Coming."
We headed out leaving the madman alone and got in a cab, "What about the outfits? Why did you ask them for, Holmes?"
"A miscalculation, I thought it would be a different kind of case."
"What do you mean?"
"I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field of observation, Watson, however not for this case."