The 12 Christmas Riddles.
Sherlock awoke with a start to find himself in his own bed. An un-usual occurrence in and of itself, he looked around his room to find nothing out of place or any disturbed dust. The only change was the addition of a plain white envelope on his burro, the name his own, written in the barely legible script of his rather quiet flat mate. One Doctor John Watson.
Sherlock's mouth felt dry and papery, a common side effect of prescription sleeping drugs. Who would have drugged him though, and how? Sherlock didn't waste a moments thought in realising it was the overly sweet tea he'd been given by John before he'd headed to bed. He would have to admit that Johns acting skills where improving. He hadn't even registered it. Why would John drug him though, and on Christmas Eve? That or he was still harping on the fact that he had not slept in 3 days. Sleep was dull, John disagreed, and this was a constant discussion between them. One Sherlock secretly enjoyed.
Sherlock's eyes fell on the envelope again. This must have to do with the whole Christmas thing John's ben going on about for the last 25 days. He'd told his friend, his only friend that he didn't want anything. Still, there was no stopping John Watson on a mission revolving around Sherlock, and everybody knew it.
He contemplated the note briefly, through on his old blue dressing gown; then headed for the living areas, leaving the letter behind. Calling for John he made his way to the kitchen only to find blood splatter on the floor. He stopped mid step. Analyzing the surrounds. He flew up the stairs, what if it wasn't John that drugged him? The blood splatter was in a way that suggested John had put up a struggle, was it even John's blood? A thousand scenarios went through his head, worried about his faithful blogger.
Ripping the envelope open, he briefly scanned the letter for clues. He stopped mid way and re-read it form the beginning, a smile to rival the Grinch spread across his face. Oh this was classic. Well done John.
Dear Sherlock,
Merry Christmas Mr Grinch, while you may not be fond of this holiday, I personally enjoy it. And after careful consideration I have found the perfect gift for the "worlds only consulting detective". A challenge for that excessively large mind of yours. Follow the riddles and you'll find the key to your other hidden gift.
Riddle one:
For the twelve day of Christmas, twelve riddles there are
One from the minder, one from the law and one from the queen,
They wouldn't leave unless I agreed.
The rest are from me, you faithful friend
Spread across London, you'll soon see.
The first things you'll need are you coat and your scarf
Find the boys minder,
you seeker and do not refuse
The offer to help you,
for without it you'll lose.
Do as your told,
and not as you please
See you soon
Sincerely
The keeper of the Keys.
P.S I can't rhyme, but it gets better I promise.
Sherlock took not a second to work it out, and flew towards Mrs Hudson's flat, she was always saying she was not their house keeper, which could also be seen as a minder or sorts. Half way there, he stopped, looked down, span on his toes, and returned to his room. Got dressed and flew back down to his landladies front door. He entered in with his usual flair, without knocking and gave the poor woman a scare.