"Mr. Holmes?" he asked my friend in a low, monotonous voice.

"Indeed I am," Holmes said cheerily as he closed the door, motioning to the vacant chair beside his own. "Please, have a seat."

"Why, thank you," the client said. He slowly strolled to the chair Holmes had indicated and sat down. Holmes did likewise, and we both sat waiting for the stranger to speak.

The man sat there for a few seconds in silence, and then his gaze drifted to the newspaper which I had been studying. His eyes widened, and then he took a deep breath and turned back to Holmes.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Holmes," he said, still in the same monotonous voice.

"Oh, no trouble at all, though I would deeply care to know the name of the man I am currently addressing."

"The name is Edward Morris, sir, and I come to you with trouble, as I'm sure most of your clients do. I have heard that you are the best in dealing with these sorts of situations, and in light of recent occurrences," the man pointed to the newspaper which was resting upon the table, "I think that it is imperative for me to get the best help possible in dealing with this matter."

"Why, I am flattered," Holmes stated, leaning closer to the man and eyeing his neatly polished boots, "but just what is it that seems to be the problem?"

Slowly, Mr. Morris dug his hand into his coat pocket and emerged with a small piece of parchment grasped between his fingers. He unfolded the scrap of paper and then laid it upon the table for all of us to see. The parchment was barren, except in the very center where a large black dot was drawn.

Holmes' eyes widened and he drew his head close to the parchment. "I assume you are aware of the other incidents?" he asked, his voice austere.

"I am," Mr. Morris said as he sat back into his seat and fiddled with the peculiar curl through his jet-black hair. "When I first received the parchment in the mail, my immediate thought was that it was just a practical joke, since I knew that I had no connections with either Dr. Philmore or Mr. Ebren. But, in light of Mr. Ebren's last thoughts, I took it more seriously. As far as I can tell, this parchment looks to be the same as the parchment with which the newspaper offered a picture of. And, if this is in fact a psychopathic killer on the loose, I do not savor meeting my end in some river or alleyway. I've already spoken with the police, and while they are anxious to catch the killer, they have no idea how to do so without using me as bait. As you can probably guess, I didn't particularly want to be bait for some murderer, and neither did I want an escort following me around all the time. So they instead recommended me to you, and here I am."

Holmes sat in silence for a few seconds, eyeing the scrap of parchment. Finally he asked, "What exactly is your occupation, Mr. Morris, and what would you say is your general lifestyle?"

"My profession is carpentry, and I am unmarried and live a few miles north of here. I've been in carpentry all my life, self-employed, and I have never even heard of either Dr. Philmore or Mr. Ebren until recently. I received this paper just this morning, and after visiting the police, I came straight here. I have no idea how this "Black Dot Killer" could have picked me for his murderous scheme, but I definitely don't assent to going along with it."

Holmes' frown broadened onto his forehead. "Have you participated in any carpentry jobs that seemed out of the ordinary to you recently?"

Mr. Morris seemed caught off-guard at this question and shook his head. "Um, no, none that I can think of, just routine tasks and…" Mr. Morris' voice trailed off and a spark lit up his eyes. "On the other hand, I did have a curious job a few days ago down at the lumber mill. Well, it wasn't exactly curious, just odd. I was installing a kind of pulley system within a large, triangular cabin on the south side of the mill that went to the roof of the house. Though I questioned the owner as to what its purpose was, he would not say. However, I was paid well, and that was that. But surely that cannot be connected with this case."

"It could easily be just a trivial fact," Holmes stated, "but it could also just as easily be a vital clue. What was the man's name who hired you?"

"He said his name was Jackson Rivers, and he looked to be someone who worked at the mill there."

Holmes sat in silence once again, his gaze shifting back to the parchment. After about a minute he looked back at Mr. Morris and said, "My friend and I will look into this matter for you, seeing as it is of paramount importance, and I hope to have some clue as to what we can do for you by the end of the day. If so, I will wire you. I recommend that you go about your normal routine today, so as to not tip off the murderer to anything out of the ordinary if he is in fact watching you. For now, though, I must ask that you leave us with this scrap of parchment, as it may be imperative to our solving of the case. And, most importantly, stay safe. The murderer has so far never stuck at his victim the same day that he has sent them this black dot, but it would still be best not to take any unnecessary risks."

Mr. Morris nodded, and then stood from his chair. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. It is not often that a man can say that his life is in someone else's hands, but in this situation I believe that statement to be true."

Mr. Morris then exited the room, his footsteps not making a sound as he tread across the leaf-covered pathway.

"I did not know that carpentry required such a substantial skill at stealth," I stated casually as I turned back to Holmes. He did not seem to pay me any attention, however, for he was sitting in his chair with his eyes glazed over in a way that meant his mind was busy deciphering the subtle facts that our client had given us.

At last he stirred from his glazed look and asked, "Did you notice that our friend, Mr. Morris, did not wear a watch, Watson, despite his obvious requirement of it since he is a self-employed man?"

Holmes caught me completely by surprise with this question, and I answered dumbly, "Um… no, I did not. Are you suggesting that he is a man that doesn't keep track of time?"

Holmes' brow creased, and he looked back down at the parchment. "I'm not sure what I'm suggesting, actually. You should come back here later this afternoon, when I have had time to let the facts of this case sink in."

I obliged him with a curt nod, and then departed, giving myself time to wonder upon the case as well.

Thoughts or reviews greatly appreciated, thanks. When I wrote this I was trying to nail down the style of Sherlock Holmes.