Et voila! Second chapter! Hope you enjoy!

And, yes, I own Sherlock Holmes.

Had you fooled there, didnt I! Okay, not really- I own nothing here. :(


November 9th. A day, unlikely to be forgotten by any members of the Metropolitan Police Force. Or anyone else for that matter.

It was the day of the Moorcroft Scandal, when the Countess of that name had her yellow diamond necklace purloined from right under her nose. Her pride and joy, she always looked on that necklace with the utmost pleasure, though, ironically it was one of the last things she ever looked at, as she was murdered by the thief!

A mature woman she was, well loved by all who knew her, and still with in control of her social graces. I heard she attended the ball to honour the news of her nephews engagement, and a more lively, jolly woman you could not wish to find. The loss will certainly be marked by all.

You remember the missing dog a few days back? Well, the lucky things been found! I may mention that it happened to be the very dog belonging to the Countess Moorcroft, of whom I've just mentioned- and such a devoted Springer Spaniel, Caesar was, he was actually found outside the gates of his old house, the place being locked up for Police work you understand. No-one really knows how he got back, though

As it happened, by this time the matter of The Regents Park Robbers, I had cleared up, so I was deemed charge of this case. Ahah! I thought! Another chance to prove myself!

And that was when the other scandal started.

My constables had finished their investigations of the house, cleared away the body, and tidied up the room, so the nephew, who was staying with her could move back in, which he did so, taking Caesar with him.

Now, I didn't know it at the time, but Caesar happened to be a well respected sniffer dog, and within seconds of him entering the room in which the tragedy occurred, he showed interest in a scrap of material, no more than threads, yet identifiably navy blue in colour, that we'd found on the carpet in the room. Sniffing it closely, he then proceeded to behave in a most extraordinary manner!

Barking like blazes, and yapping and howling, the young Spaniel scratched at the door desperately trying to get out, and realising that he obviously had a strong talent in that very handy field of sniffing, we opened the door, leash in hand and were taken for a run by the animal.

Twisting through drunken alleys, passing clubs and offices, being cursed by the drunks in the East End, then greeted by the gentleman of Pall Mall, being led this way and that through the back streets of London, my canine accomplice seemed to know the route we took as if it were his daily routine.

From the backstreet alleys, we then turned into a street I was more familiar with.

Now, Caesar slowed the pace, giving me time to find my breath again. The animals nose stuck to pavement like a magnet, going at a steady, slower speed until we reached the end of our journey.

My disorientation turned to disbelief. We were in Baker Street. Outside Number 221B.


Sorry, chocolates all gone, but cookies however are in great supply… you know what you have to do... :P