There has not been many a mystery that has proven to be so complex as to have its answer elude the remarkable and observant Mr Sherlock Holmes. The primary professional in his field and the most singularly gifted detective of his generation, Sherlock Holmes has proven the impossible and disproved the certain. Although from time to time it seemed the success of his methods would be a close thing, he has almost always won through to reveal the secret truth from underneath the dark pall of confusion. But even the greatest detective in Europe is not a picture of perfection as regards to his methods. In many of my previous accounts of Holmes's amazing skills of deduction, as Holmes himself has told me, I have often alluded to these celebrated skills as being infallible. In doing this I feel that perhaps my previous commentaries of Baker Street happenings have perhaps not done him justice, for, as we were to discover, it takes considerably more than deductive skills to solve a mysterious crime such as that of the pocket watch incident. It is of this very case that I wish to speak of to you in this narrative as not only does it prove that Holmes is more than a deducting machine but simultaneously it highlights the enormity of his intellect and the strength of his determination. Holmes's deductions are not often wrong or incomplete, but when they are, his other equally remarkable traits that fall into place in order to produce a result of the first class. Every single time.
It is a well-known fact that Holmes has always taken a delight in cases of a challenging and remarkable nature. During the years that I have now spent chronicling his exploits I have seen cases of blackmail, murder, counterfeit, robbery, scandalous marriage, trickery and many, many other types to match and differ with each and every other one of these. But of all of these cases I can remember no other that took a similar form to that of the pocket watch murders.
It all started at Baker Street, when I was still lodging with Holmes, in our younger days. The day had been a grey one, rain coming down in sheets from the heavens and making all the world seem much as if it had been painted into existence by Monet. Thick grey clouds blocked every inch of the sky consequently making London's streets prematurely dark and furnishing them with a fittingly gloomy air. As I glanced out of the window into the street I could not help but feel oddly affected by the weather. It seemed that there was nothing to do in life but to see the fat raindrops slide down the panes outside and listen half-heartedly to the ticking of the clock upon the mantle. Holmes and I had been sat in the study for almost two and a quarters hours, and though I am a man of what has been called great patience, the lack of anything much to do was beginning to ware upon me, yet Holmes seemed in no way effected as he normally would have been. There were no cases, and it seemed there were none likely for some time either. He had recently cleared up a rather regular burglary for an elderly client by the name of Mrs Robertson but since that case, which Holmes had described as 'rather uninspiring' (and had I not been afraid of insulting Mrs Robertson, I would have most likely described in a similar fashion), nothing had come up. It was unusual for Holmes to be so relaxed about having no good cases in which to exercise his talents, and though I was not worried about that in itself, the reversal of attitudes between Holmes and myself was beginning to be a cause of irritation to me. And it was that irritation that finally began the conversation that would eventually lead us into the remarkable adventure of which I am writing.
"How can you stand it Holmes?" I finally exclaimed after another half an hour of complete silence and inactivity. "There is nothing going on in the criminal world of London and yet you show no signs of your normal agitation!" A slight smile raised a corner of my friend's lips as he listened to my outburst; evidently our role reversal was amusing to him.
"My dear Watson, there is always something going on in the criminal world." He smiled again and leant further back into his chair, "However I understand what you mean. Business has been a little slow during the past few days has it not."
"It is probably this repulsive weather." I replied with a slight shrug. "Few people, regardless of their troubles, would see fit to venture out in that."
"The weather has very little to do with it I'm afraid, my guess should be that the intelligent criminals that we so often spar with are in their planning stages." He stood then, and took some tobacco from the slipper upon the mantle, lighting his pipe soon afterward. "Something will come our way soon Watson. But until then there is little point becoming agitated over the matter. Cases are like wine my good fellow, they are all the better when fully matured and ready." I nodded in approval of Holmes's opinion but I still could not help but let a sigh escape from between my lips. However, thankfully, my agitation would not last for long, as the very case that Holmes had earlier predicted was on our doorstep within the hour.
Asher Marks was a handsome gentleman with black hair, startling green eyes and a bone structure that many men would be envious of. He stood at about Holmes's height and his sharp features and sparkling eyes made him one of the most handsome men I had ever met. Marks was only just twenty-five or so and it was his inexperience and youth that brought me to look after him, he constantly seemed out of his depth throughout the duration of the case, and though I have never really been a fatherly kind of man I could not help but feel sorry for him in his situation. It would only have someone entirely heartless who could have ignored his plight at any rate.
The bell rang at a quarter past seven that evening and I must admit it came to me as a relief. My friend did not seem remotely excited by the prospect and simply extinguished his pipe and sat up a little in his chair. But having known him so long I could recognise that he was considerably more alert than he had previously been and that the prospect of a new case was indeed attractive to him. I remember now that the young gentleman had elected to send his card up to us as an introduction. As Mrs Hudson placed the card in Holmes's hand and left the room I could see the consulting detective's eyes flashing over the card and taking in its details. After a moment he passed it to me with a fractional smile,
"Alright then Watson, what do you make of it?" He asked with an air of smug amusement that always radiated from him when he asked such questions. I quickly looked over the card and then read it aloud,
"Mr A. Marks, 132 Half Moon Street, London" I paused and looked up at Holmes once more, "But my dear fellow there is little to be deducted from this, all that we can tell is that he is not in financial trouble."
"Ah, but Watson how wrong you are." Holmes leant to take the card off me and I happily let him have it. After all it would be much more useful in his hands than in mine. Holmes leant back in his chair and held the card between his index and ring finger.
"This card is sent to us by a man from a good family, as you managed to deduct for yourself, however what you failed to see was that he is also a man who is popular and up to date with society's fashions. He is a good dresser and is soon to be married." For the thousandth time my face was a picture of incredulity, however my questions were answered before they were asked. "Evidently he is from a good family as he lives in an upmarket part of London and has money to invest in hand designed business cards. We can tell that he is popular, as he puts no reference upon his card; there is nothing to say whose son he is or what he does as a living. This shows that most people who receive his cards already know from whom it was sent." There was a pause here and then Holmes continued, spinning the card between his forefinger and thumb. "He is obviously up to date with London's fashions as not only does his card support the new 'tiger-claw and lily' designs that have become so recently popular, but also his house in Half-Moon Street is placed upon the fashionable side. This deduction naturally leads on to him being a good dresser, as he is aware of what is fashionable and we can guess that he soon to be married through the knowledge of where these cards were made. These cards are from Summerton's, the biggest single maker of personal business cards: and wedding invitations." I let a sigh escape me and I slouched back into my chair. Every time he explained it the reasoning seemed to get simpler and simpler yet I could never see it for myself.
"Yes Holmes, I see it now." I replied, "It is so…" I was about to continue when I was interrupted by the door to the study opening to reveal Mrs Hudson,
"Mr Asher Marks to see you Mr Holmes."
At first I was a little taken a-back by Mr Marks's appearance, so sharp was his sense of dress, it seemed as if he walked straight out of one of the period's fashion plates. Mr Marks was, as Holmes had deduced, a very well dressed man, every inch of his appearance meticulously maintained and thought about. There was not a single crease anywhere on his person and his shoes sparkled, even though he had walked at least some way in order to reach our Baker Street rooms.
"Mr Marks." Holmes greeted our client politely, "A pleasure to meet you."
"I would return the sentiment, however my reasons for making your acquaintance are of the gravest form." A sad smile slid over Mr Marks's lips for a moment.
"You are soon to be married are you not?" Holmes asked, looking at me for a moment and then back to our client, "Congratulations." Normally when Holmes springs his deductions upon people who are not used to them they are surprised, though when this fact was revealed to Mr Marks he did not seem in the least shocked by it.
"Yes Mr Holmes, I am, though there is no cause for congratulation just yet." Mr Marks sat down in a chair that Holmes had just gestured to and then continued, "It is my impending marriage that requires that I engage your services Mr Holmes."
"Indeed." Holmes replied, leaning back a little further into his chair and threading his fingers together into a sort of lattice. "Would you care to tell me the facts so that I may help you come to a satisfactory conclusion?"
"It would be a blessing to get it all off of my chest." Asher Marks nodded and then began.
"It all started yesterday morning. My fiancé, a Miss Verona Wright, and I were walking in Grosvenor Square as we often do on nice mornings, when we heard someone running up behind us and we turned to find out whom it was who wished so desperately to speak with us. As it turned out it was Miss Wright's housekeeper, Mrs Clark. You see Verona lives on Upper Grosvenor Street and Mrs Clark had run to catch up with us. On reaching us I remember asking her
"What on earth is the matter Mrs Clark? Is something wrong?" She was as pale as if she had seen a ghost and her hands were shaking, so upset was she by what she had just seen.
"Oh, oh Mr Marks!" She cried, "Come back to the house, quick Sir!"
"What is it Mrs Clark?" Verona then asked, "What is wrong, what has happened?" At that point Mrs Clark grabbed at Verona's hand and tried to pull her back toward the house,
"It is your Mother Miss Wright," She cried, "She is dead!" For a moment I thought for all the world that Verona was going to faint but she is a remarkably strong woman and she did not. However, she did appear shocked by the revelation, as was I, but you know how women are effected by such matters. At any rate I left Mrs Clark with Verona and then I ran back toward the house. Three minutes later, just past eight in the morning, I arrived at the door of Verona's house and threw open the door, running inside. It was immediately apparent that Mrs Wright had been murdered in the living room, as there was a great crowd of staff already there. I quickly cleared them aside and rushed in. Yet this is where the whole thing becomes peculiar. There was no blood and her face was contorted in a horrible manner as if she had been left gasping for breath and in terrible pain. The police arrived ten minutes later due to the message sent by Marcus the footman and naturally cleared the area so that I could see no more. But Mr Holmes the police have had little luck, and my dear Verona is afraid, I can tell, though she will not say it due to a stubborn nature. Mrs Wright had no enemies Mr Holmes and she was, in fact, a perfect angel. The police can find no motive that anyone would have to kill her and so I decided to turn to you. I am afraid that Verona will call off the wedding if the killer is not found soon. We need your help."
Holmes paused for a moment once the narrative had been told and leant forwards in his chair, his finger forming a steeple which he looked through at Mr Marks.
"I have a few questions to ask you Mr Marks in order to develop a full view of the case." Mr Marks nodded his assent and Holmes began, "Is there a Mr Wright?"
"Yes, yes, he works at the Bank of England."
"Where was he at the time of Mrs Wright's murder?"
"He was working Mr Holmes, the bank opens at six and he goes to work at that hour every morning."
"Is your walk with Miss Wright a regular occurrence?"
"No, it was just on that day that the urge seized us, I was after all a beautiful morning."
"Did you tell anyone that you were leaving the house that morning?" Holmes asked taking out his notebook and scribbling a few details down in it.
"I remember that we told Mrs Clark and Agnes, one of the kitchen staff. But they have both been working at the house for quite some time."
"Indeed." Holmes paused again, "You do not live with the Wrights Mr Marks, yet you seem to know their routine very well. How long, may I ask, have you been courting Miss Wright?"
"A few months Mr Holmes," Mr Marks replied. Holmes closed his notebook,
"Thank you Mr Marks. I will look further into this case shortly." Mr Marks nodded and then stood up.
"Thanks to you as well Mr Holmes." He was about to leave when he stopped for a moment and then turned around, "Do you think Sir, that there will be any chance of you catching Mrs Wright's murderer? I merely ask so as I will know whether to be positive or not to Verona." Holmes nodded,
"I do not want to give you any false hope at present Mr Marks." He replied, "But I can promise you and Miss Wright that I shall do my very best."
When Mr Marks had left Holmes and I sat, once again, in silence for a few moments.
"So, what do you make of it Watson?" He asked me at last.
"Very little I'm afraid." I replied with a slight shrug, "After all we know so very little."
"Indeed." Holmes replied with a slight sigh, "That is the greatest problem. Mr Marks's narrative was by no means comprehensive." After another moment he reached into his pocket and took out a silver pocket watch and looked at the time, before slipping it back into its rightful place. "Well then Watson, I do think a trip to the yard is in order." With that he stood and seized his coat from the chair where it had been dumped the last time. "Let us delve a little and see what we can find out." With a smile I complied and picked up my hat off the hat stand,
"What do you think to this business?" I asked at last as we stepped down the stairs and out into the street.
"I think it might prove more interesting that it currently appears Watson." He smiled in that way that made me think that he had formed more opinions than he was going to express. "In fact," He whistled loudly for a handsome and a moment later one was stood in front of us harnessed up to one of London's many chestnut mares, "I do believe that it may turn out to be something truly remarkable!"
Author's Notes
Well then, what do you think? I would love to know how you feel about this story so far. The next chapter is on its way as we speak so you shouldn't have to wait too long. Constructive critisim is always welcome though it can not be promised to be taken into account. Encouragement is what drives me forward so please, please REVIEW! Thanks guys, hope to put up chapter two within the week!
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