Alright! Second chapter! Hey, thanks to "Pip the Dark Lord of All" for my first review! It really encouraged me, thanks so much for taking the time to comment! I didn't go into all of Holmes' deductions on the box, I thought it might be too much dialogue, but if you want to know all the explanations on how he made his deductions I am more than happy to share. Just review and let me know! Thanks

CHAPTER 2

ON THE MORROW

Holmes had taken up his magnifying glass and was peering round the box we had so surprisingly received not five minutes ago. Running my own fingers against the solid, grainy wood, I glanced repeatedly at my companion, eager to open the package but also knowing my friend's meticulous methods must not be rushed.

"This box is clearly from an artist's studio, I'd say a woman's," Holmes began, stuffing his glass into the inner pocket of his jacket. "The owner likely has a fairly successful art business, but she had a friend make this receptacle. Something of particular value must be inside, but not an item of fragility or conspicuousness."

"And judging from the tallness, and the positioning of the box upright on the smaller of the rectangular sides gave you the idea of a statue being within?" I inquired.

"Indeed," Said Holmes, with a small nod. "I am not certain of it being so- however it is likely."

"But how could you have known of the studio?" I pondered aloud.

"Observe," Holmes began, and as he knelt to the floor I dropped to my own knee to join him. "There are tiny bits of paint and clay, and what I perceive to be a sealant of sorts, clinging to the bottom corners of the container." I nodded, my position on the floor giving me a much clearer view of the evidence on the bottom edges of the box.

"Now, naturally, the location of these smudges would indicate the box resting upright in such a place were it would come into contact with all three of those supplies regularly. What sort of place has paint, clay, and sealant in common use? Clearly an art studio," we both stood, as Holmes had concluded.

"But what about a suppliers?" I offered. "Or a private residence?"

"I considered those," said Holmes, "but a suppliers would not have open containers of such products laying about or in use in such a way as to risk damaging other products and items; as for a private residence, it is the same. It is unlikely a homeowner would keep such products in a large open space amidst their furniture and guests, rather than on a shelf or in a closet. Yet the sole presence of the sealer, clay, and paint on the bottom edges of the box rather than the sides suggests nothing was stacked against it. No. It must have rested in the open spaces of a frequently utilized studio."

"Marvelous." I exclaimed, never failing to be impressed by my friend's careful reasoning. "And the woman?"

"Simple. This tag here, stapled to the wood. It could only be a woman's writing. See the swooping, elegant curves and tails on the letters? And the precise spacing of each word? Clearly this is an artist's hand, and the pressure exerted in applying the ink is distinctly lighter than that of a man's press on the paper." I leaned in, admiring the letters and read- To Mr. Sherlock Holmes, 221B Baker Street, London. 3pm on the morrow. Straightening my back from bending to examine the tiny card, I wondered if we were expecting to have a visiter tomorrow afternoon. Hearing a sudden rattle in the kitchen, I noticed my companion had left the room. He returned quickly however, with a sharp carving knife that looked very thin and shiny in his pale hand. I jumped back, surprised, as he determinedly rushed past me and began prying out the nails of the statue box with an alarming alacrity.

When at last the final nail was wrenched out of place and cast to the floor, Holmes wrapped his fingers around a lip on the lid, and with a final heave, revealed the contents of the mysterious box once and for all.