One Year Ago

I would not count Lestrade amongst the most perceptive of people, for that company is only reserved for a good ten or so men in the whole of London, including myself, but I sometimes could almost congratulate him in knowing exactly what would lure the frantic interests of a madcap consulting detective. Pickled oysters and an intriguing new case.

The idea of luncheon with the Inspector wasn't quite thrilling, but not entirely unwelcome either, so I appeared at Gordon's near Haymarket, where I found the Inspector, as dark-haired, as rat-faced and dapper as ever, dressed in a dark brown jacket and pinstriped trousers of the same color, with a glass of ale wrapped between his bony fingers.

He stood up to shake my hand, "Morning, Mr. Holmes," said he with a small smile, "glad you could come, though I am frankly surprised. Figured folks like you would pick Dolly's instead," he continued, glancing around the vicinity of the chop house. The company was certainly of a rougher sort, and the wooden tables not covered with white linen. Thin-lipped waiters bustling about were also absent, to be replaced by Gordon himself, corpulent and beady-eyed, and his son, who was quite the opposite of the family patriarch, gangly and stooping as he went from one table to another. The place goes louder than usual with the occasional row, and was always heavy with the smell of cheap tobacco.

I took the seat across Lestrade, fingers steepled between my lips, "Dolly's, The Grand—hah!" I remarked, "And the others forming the collective coterie frequented by these aristocratic gourmandistes. Nothing as insipid and dull and boring. No, no-to an observer of human behavior, there is no better place than here," I continued, pointing to the table filled with raucous laughter, "at the true heart of the City." I'd rather not be in the company of gentility, with their tiresome conversation and less-than-creative pursuits, if you please. There is rarely anything genuine that occurs on the region between their ears.

Lestrade seemed knotted in thought, and then a light smile broke upon his features, "I don't care what the other boys at the Yard say about you, Mister Holmes, but I believe in your methods. They seem to never have led you astray," he answered, sipping the final dregs of ale from his glass.

"You seem downright agreeable today, Lestrade," I quipped, and he lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, "but I have had my share of erroneous deductions, to be honest. Rather difficult way of learning, but it is only a fool who makes the same mistake twice. Now, Inspector," I beckoned young Gordon who was a table away from us, "I believe we are in need of refreshment. You can tell me about this case of yours by and by."

Of course, truth was I was only looking for a diversion, I knew it would be too much to ask but I hoped said diversion would be intellectually stimulating in the least. Allow me to illustrate: a perfumer would distinguish between top, middle and base notes when composing a fragrance using a collection of aroma compounds and essential oils, one over the other so as to create the scent most pleasing to senses. The analogy is most appropriate to my little quest for distractions. The top note: a case from Inspector Lestrade, hopefully engaging; the middle note—on the other hand, do let us forget about this line of thought; I am feeling dumber by the moment.

The fare was most delightful; we had pickled oysters and mutton chops, along with some pheasant pie Lestrade brought, "by the missus", he said, and I was pleasantly surprised with how delicious it was. A bit coarse, but delicious.

I took the bottle of port and poured another glassful, for I was feeling rather baleful that day, "Now, Inspector," said I, "your telegram hinted at a 'most puzzling case'. Would it have anything to do with the death of young Lord Russell at Windethorpe Heath?"

Lestrade dropped his knife and looked so gravely upon me. He brought his hands together, leaned towards me and peeked askance at the other patrons, as if the clientele here were interested in the scandals that blight the English gentry. That and humans could fly.

"Now how could you possibly know about that?" whispered Lestrade, piteously querulous, tbe poor man. Of course I knew. My previous client, a rosy, albeit frivolous young lady was connected with some of the acquaintances of Lady Russell, and so the information there was passed from lip to ear until everyone was satisfied. How I came about the facts, on the other hand, was entirely the fault of said young lady, who could scarce tell her story without feeling the urge to digress on some needless detail or another, before getting to the point. She had pinched her mother's diamond necklace for a dance, and had unwittingly misplaced it, and if her mother returns from the country to find out that the necklace was gone, her own neck 'would surely be wrung', as it were. Young Lord Russell, she had not failed to mention, was 'trop mysterieux, the beau of the evening' and that 'it was so unfortunate, that he died so young.'

I flung my wrist in dismissal, "How I knew is inconsequential. Do you have any information? What was the cause of death?"

"We have yet to find out," he replied, and I made sure that my disappointment did not pass unnoticed, "we don't all have your tricks Mr. Holmes. The Yard was only informed yesterday, and the constabulary at Coventry had been on the case only two days ago. However, we know that young Lord Russell was the chosen heir by his father, and their estate had grown considerably after their family had made some profitable business in East India."

So far, the Inspector's account was adding up to nothing, "Wait," I said, "didn't Lord Russell have another son? An elder one, name of Avery, I remember that he has made a name for himself in the shipbuilding and steel business."

"Does he?" replied Lestrade, "then he is a wealthy man."

"Obscenely wealthy," I assented, "Old riches and new combined. Surely enough to corrupt any man, but Lord Avery Russell has risen from his kind. Hardly a scratch to his name and in the poor-houses of Whitechapel his name is mentioned with a reverence comparable to Providence itself. He has also made sizeable contributions to charitable institutions."

"The fellow must be a saint!" chided Lestrade. I knew he saw the importance of this information, but the further implications I expected him to blind of. The elder brother is a paragon of goodness, doling his riches out by the handful, and is successful in his ventures. The only way the younger brother could be heir to the estate is by the elder's outright refusal to be named in their father's will, something a man without the organ of Avarice could easily accomplish.

But all this information, though useful, is still wanting, "You could have easily taken this case, Lestrade," said I, "what truly brought you to me? The case is hardly of interest, a rich young man dead, cause unknown, et cetera, I have better things to do," I really do not. Top note, if you recall earlier.

"I could certainly have!" cried Lestrade, "Lord knows why they have come to us in the first place, only to request your aid as well. I do not even know how the Russells knew about you. The PC just walked up to me and said, 'They also request that you call a Mr. Sherlock Holmes as well, Inspector. Lady Russell said he would be able to help,' as if I needed assistance from an amateur, albeit a brilliant one." His dourness would have annoyed me, but that was certainly a bon mot from the Inspector, who may have had one too many glasses of port; I laughed.

"Well, Lestrade," I sighed, "interesting, but not enough to make me leave London for Coventry, which I suppose is what the Russells are expecting," He nodded, a little too slowly. By Jove, the man shouldn't have any alcohol at Day. I emptied the remaining port into my glass. "But if you can send me a telegram containing more details, as many as you can, if you please, then I may decide whether this is worth a trip after all. No later than this evening, preferably." The due time is nothing but a front to compel them into action, of course, I have nothing waiting for me that evening but the settee, the syringe and the Stradivarius. I cannot have any more of the lassitude brought by the Second, and I am close to making enemies with the Third. The settee is my remaining friend; I cannot bear to lose that as well. I needed a case, badly, desperately, urgently. I had to get out of London; Coventry could possibly be heaven as of this moment.

Lestrade seemed to be taking it rather well, "Fair enough, Mr. Holmes," said he, "I know you take nothing but the most perplexing of cases. I only hope it is something ghastly, for your sake," and he stood up to take the coat draped behind his chair.

I smiled and stood up as well. "Peplexing, yes. Ghastly?" I furrowed my brow as if in deep thought, "Appreciated, but unexpected," I said, and it brought a twitch of smile from the Inspector.

We had split the fee and stepped out together into Haymarket, "Mr. Holmes," said Lestrade, shaking my hand, "it was a pleasure. I've always thought you were a haughty fellow through and through. I frankly was not eager with the prospect of lunch, but you're a pleasant man enough."

I chuckled, at his honesty more than anything else, "Everything becomes pleasing after enough exposure," I remarked. I will club him if he even mentions the prospect of friendship. I was cordial, by God, but I was not about to go around attending plays with him. "I bid leave, Inspector, good day to you."

"Good day to you too," he answered, and I watched him turn and make his way, until his rounded shoulders and quick step disappeared in the tide of the crowd.