We sat by the counter over a bottle of scotch whiskey. The gruff scotsman began his tale.

"You see, Mr. Holmes, it was last day, me an' the three friends who work here were celebrating the club's 20th anniversary. The other staff had left and we 'ere laughing over jest after jest. Eventually, I took out the cash tin where I stored the club's earnings. All the income went into that tin, the size of large can of tomato soup. It was an odd tradition the club had, but a tradition nonetheless. Well, I took the tin out the show the load we had, then soon after put it back in the back room, by the register. We were all quite drunk at the time so we chatted for a quarter of an hour more than went into the back room the sign a form that many their employment for next month official. So drunk we were that we struggled to find a pen and we stumbled 'round the bars and tables. We found one eventually and the three men signed the form. Bidding each other a good night, they left and after locking up, I sat slumped on a seat in the back room and feel asleep there and then. I woke up next morning with a splitting head-ache. Stumbling towards the schedule hung by the desk, I noticed something missing. I had always kept my desk unorganized, Mr. Holmes, but I always knew where everything was. It was then that I realised with expanding horror, that the missing object appeared to be the cash tin. First, I though that maybe by some chance, that I had mislaid it somewhere. After an hour, I gave up looking. I ran by the three men, but they had no idea where it could, or said they had. That is all, Mr. Holmes, I apologize it there ain't enough detail. But as I said, I was very drunk indeed."

Holmes was silent for just a moment, he stood up suddenly, "Do not apologize, Mr. Thompson, this case might prove very simple. May I see the back room?"

Mr. Thompson lead us behind the bar and into a door marked 'staff only'. Upon entering, we saw, to the left to mentioned desk covered with papers and a folder titled register. Across the room was a door no doubt stairs leading to the bedroom, there was a board with the latest notices on the right wall and to the far corners, armchairs for the staff. A coat rack stood by the armchair in the right corner.

Holmes strode around the room and over to the desk. He flipped open the register. I saw his face change instantly to an expression of delight and interest.

"What is it, Holmes? Pray tell us." I rushed towards the desk. He payed me no notice but instead turned towards Thompson.

"Mr. Thompson, who is this 'Stanley Adams'? An educated man?"

"Quite."

"Is this his handwriting?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, this is most intriguing. Left-handed?"

"I believe so. But I can't say I'm sure."

"Yes, normally I would ask for the characteristics of your friends, but I trust that I have solved your little problem."

"Really, Holmes, you tend to leave us in the dark, care to enlighten us?" I said to him.

Holmes lead us out into the club, and we saw the members had dwindled by much. A table of solemn men still sat in the dim light.

We sat around a table with a chess set on top and Holmes began his report.

"First of all, I'm sure you will agree, that the prime suspects are the three men. And I'm afraid that this particular case is not one that would make a great example to my method of deductions. But I narrowed down the period of time the cash could be stolen to after Mr. Thompson checked the tin to the time Mr. Thompson locked the doors if indeed they were locked and no one else was in the building but Mr. Thompson himself. While Mr. Thompson retold his tale, a short period of time caught my interest. At the time where they were looking for the pen outside the office. The thief could have only stolen the cash tin at that moment. There was nothing more to be deducted by that, therefore, I visited the back office and find the key in the register. The first name scribbled almost illegibly read 'Stanley Adams'. His hand writing was indeed quite disarranged. I thought this might be resulting to his drunk state but even the other printed names were clear. He might be an uneducated man, that thought had come to pass but you answered no. I studied it closer and noticed that it was written by a right hand. Not just any right hand, it was written by the right hand of a left handed man. I had many reasons why a left handed man who resort to using his right hand to write. The reasons lie in two main branches, first he is not capable of using his left hand, second he does not want the signature to be official since it is not counted if the signature is not by the owner's dominant hand. An example to the first, if he was to be hiding something under his dominant hand's sleeve, for example a tin which would fall out on the removal of the hand, the man would use his other hand as he cannot switch hands without the tin being spotted."

Mr. Thompson jumped out of his seat, startling the men at the other table.

"My word, Mr. Holmes! And then the second reason implies also, he will not have to come to work here again."

Holmes nodded gravely.

"I cannot believe this, Adams, my right hand man."

"Your left-handed man." Holmes corrected.


THE END

Reviews please!

If you didn't get the ending, basically the man wrote with his right hand because he was holding the cash tin in his left hand's sleeve and also because the signature wouldn't be official his not signed with his dominant hand. So he would be able to escape with the money and not have to come back to work again.

Watson: Umm, Holmes? How did you figure out he was a left handed man writing with his right hand?

Holmes: SIGH, if you had been listening to me earlier that night when I lectured about cryptology.

Watson: Right...