The short will of Charles Taylor was laid on the table I by an emotional Mrs Taylor. My friend began pouring over it as the woman who had brought it rushed out of the room with tears welling up in her eyes.
"Ah!" gasped Holmes in triumph. "As I had suspected, Charles Taylor didn't only include his wife in his will. There are at least ten others who would benefit greatly if he were to pass away in mysterious circumstances."
"One of which happens to be Mrs Wilson?" I added helpfully.
"Indeed. What do you make of this name my good fellow?" He pointed to the last name on the list. It was written scruffily in the same black ink as the others. The name took up almost double the amount the others took despite being the shortest by far.
"Well the writing certainly is not as neat as the previous names."
"Congratulations my dear Watson. That is correct. Now what can you deduce from the frankly appalling state of this lettering?"
"That the man's hands were shaking?"
"Correct once again! I'm truly shocked how intuitive you have become John. Of course I have inferred far more from this small detail than you but for you it certainly is astounding."
"Surely I haven't missed something important?"
"On the contrary you have missed the most vital fact that we can infer from this writing. Mr Taylor was clearly drunk when he wrote this particular name."
"Perhaps he was tricked into writing it then?"
"Highly probable."
"So perhaps it was this man that poisoned Charles Taylor?"
"From the few letters that I can decipher I believe the man we have to investigate is a man by the name of Mr Phillip Stevenson."
"Where do you suggest we begin our search?"
"Of course the obvious starting place for our investigation is the local pub where Charles Taylor claimed to be drinking at." Sherlock rose to his feet and strode purposefully out into the cool night air to commence our hunt for the elusive man.
The darkened pub was shrouded in a thick, foul smelling cloud of tobacco smoke and the entire building reeked of strong alcohol. A few limp, shabbily dressed bodies were propped up against various tables with limbs strewn randomly. Seemingly oblivious to the writhing bodies hidden in the shadows Sherlock stormed toward the bartender.
"What can I get you two good fellows this fine day?" inquired the grubby barkeep flashing us a toothless grin.
"We aren't interested in purchasing any beverages today thank you but if you had any information concerning whereabouts of a man that goes by the name of Phillip Stevenson." Holmes informed him getting straight to the point swiftly.
"I'm afraid Mr Stevenson is famously difficult to find. He has no relatives that anyone knows of and he tends to keep to himself. Unfortunately I can't even give you his address as no one knows it. I can tell you one thing though; Mr Stevenson is a renowned gambler and never misses a game of cards when he comes here." Sherlock groaned in annoyance and stormed out.
"Thank you for your help sir." I nodded before hurriedly following after him.
"S'cuse me sir but I couldn't help over hearin' your conversation. May I ask why you're lookin' for Mr Stevenson?" enquired a gruff voice from inside the shadows just beside the door. I turned slightly to see a bearded man sat nursing a pint of ale in his grubby hands. Mud caked his nails and his long beard was grey and in disarray.
"My friend and I are investigating Mr Taylor's death."
"Thought as much." he nodded slowly and took a long, slow sip of his drink, "My name's Arthur. Arthur Brooks. I was Mr Taylor's gardener til' he kicked the bucket so to speak."
"I'm John Watson. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."
"Not my loss Mr Watson. He was jus' another employer."
"Surely you're upset that he has died?"
"O' course! I'm not some heartless monster!"
"Watson what is taking so long?" Holmes demanded as he burst back through the door.
"My most sincere apologies sir. Your friend and I were jus' talkin' I didn't know I was keepin' 'im from important business." Mr Brooks told him truthfully.
"It's perfectly alright. We should be going though." I nodded and started to leave the pub again when I was stopped once more by Mr Brooks.
"Mr Watson! Make sure you and your friend find whoever murdered him and make 'em pay for what they did!"
"How curious... John what did you tell him about our investigation?" Holmes asked as we walked together through the dimly lit streets to the local B&B which I had booked for us to stay in.
"You mean the man I was talking to? Nothing. I simply told him we were researching his death."
"Interesting." he nodded thoughtfully. We didn't speak for the rest of the walk as I knew better than to disturb him when he was fitting all his observations and deductions together.
The next morning was unseasonably warm and I awoke with a thin layer of sweat covering my skin. I quickly changed before hurrying downstairs for breakfast.
"Morning Dr Watson. I trust you slept well?" smiled the kindly owner of the B&B. Her black hair was swept up into a loose bun and she wore a pristine, white apron over her canary yellow dress.
"I did sleep well thank you. I don't suppose my companion Mr Holmes is awake yet?"
"I haven't seen him yet this morning. Would you like breakfast whilst you wait?"
"No thank you. I shall take some tea though." I replied. She nodded slightly and left me in the large dining room. A handful of people were dotted on various tables around the room. I picked up a discarded newspaper and sat alone on a nearby table. I had read half an article when a large pair of scissors cut through the middle of it. I looked up to see Sherlock snipping away at my paper. Finally he had chopped a large rectangular shape from the front page. He stepped back with the clipping from the paper in his hand.
"Whatever are you doing Holmes?" I demanded.
"I need this particular segment of the local news to help us in the case." he informed me showing me that the piece of writing was on Charles Taylor's death.
"Surely there is nothing in that paper that you don't already know?"
"Don't be so sure John. Occasionally the press comes in handy."
"So what is your plan for today?"
"I believe we are still yet to meet Mr Stevenson so I propose we continue our hunt for him."
"Of course but before we do how about a spot of breakfast?"
A/N Hey beautiful people, as always please leave a comment even if it's just one word. Thanks for reading xxx