Visit to Sherlock Holmes
We arrived at 221B Baker Street after a long journey in the cab. I payed the driver and sauntered up the drive. A maid opened the heavy oak door and showed us the sitting-room. Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, sitting on a big armchair reading a column in The Times. He greeted us as we walked through the door and sat down on a worn sofa. He ordered fresh bacon and eggs for us and toast with marmalade for himself. We sat down together in the dining room and ate a hearty meal. When it was concluded, he poured each of us a glass of water and laid it on the table.
"So, what brings you here today?" asked he.
"Mr Victor Hatherley was attacked by a man with a knife on a train, last night. The man with the knife cut his thumb off, so he came to me," exclaimed Dr Watson.
"Good gracious! An accident, I presume?" asked Holmes.
"By no means."
"Mr Hatherley, tell me, what exactly happened?" questioned he.
"Last night, I was travelling to London on a train. I was looking for a seat when a mysterious man appeared. He was wearing a brown cloak with a hood and a balaclava so I could not see his face. He attacked me with a sharp knife which he had produced from his pocket. While trying to fend off the knife, my thumb was cut off. I must have fainted at that point because everything went black. I woke up about an hour later to find no trace of the man at all. I noticed my thumb was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round my wrist. I braced it up with a twig I found lying on the floor. A worthy fellow kindly escorted me to Dr Watson, who dressed my wound and covered it with cotton wadding and carbolized bandages. Looking back, I realize now that it must have been a case of mistaken identity," explained Hatherley.
"If that is the case, then I wonder who the victim was intended to be…"
