Prompt from Riandra: A broken string
"All I can see is a broken string, Holmes."
"Come, Watson! I know you can do better than that."
I sighed, for I was very tired after a long day at a patient's bedside, but I humoured Holmes and looked closer at the string.
It was black, the utilitarian sort of black of maids' uniforms or a governess's apron. It could have come from one of those, but its owner must have had a terrible day, if so, for it was liberally spattered with mud. A maid so covered in mud would surely have been dismissed by her employer if she could not change in time to avoid being seen.
On closer inspection, that seemed unlikely. It was the right colour, yes, but it was too thick to be from a uniform or apron, at least of any quality. It had the feel of string, which made it being broken all the more curious. A thread could snap easily, but a string was hardier. Perhaps it had been cut?
I voiced these suspicions to Holmes, who clapped his hands. "Excellent, Watson! Your eye for detail has caught on a crucial point, though you have failed to take it to its conclusion. Come! We have a maid to question."
He snatched up his coat and was out the door. I followed him, forgetting my tiredness in my excitement to be on the case again.