The science of deduction... What would you call that? Deductionology? Deductivity? Deduct-ography?

Anyway, our two detectives are hot on the trail of Miss Fox! And, to Sherlock's dismay, they have to enlist the help of a... disgruntled... ally. As usual, please give this a review if you like it! Especially if you have a recommendation, or a suggestion for me.

Chapter Three: The Inspector

Once Sylvester had gotten rid of the picture frame, we set off on the road. Yet again, as usual, our Landlady had tried to get Holmes to stop, this time for the rent that we had owed two weeks prior; and as usual, he promptly slammed the door in her face before she could get a word in edgewise. I shall sound shallow when I say this, but with the lack of paying cases as-of-late, I'm quite relieved that we avoid her when she prys. As is the fifty pounds that I keep on reserve under my mattress, which the kitten would have happily snatched up as a down-payment of out rent.

We hadn't gotten meters from our door when he came up to us, haggard and confused. Near immediately, I recognized it as our old chum, a term I use loosely, Inspector Gregson. The bear gasped to us, "Where have you been? I've been trying to phone you for hours!"

I looked at him in confusion, "We have no phone, Tobias."

It looked like he was trying to say something but his breath couldn't catch up to him. He rested his arms behind his head to try to fill his lungs again. "What?! You..." He gawked at Sylvester, "You told me you had a phone! I spent at least two hours, waiting for the lines to be open!"

I looked at my companion, who was trying to stifle his laughter. He gave me a smirk, that made me know that there was something he hadn't told me about. He answered my suspicions when he said, in laughter, "I... I will tell you about that later. But, my friend, why in the first place did you not just come to the flat?"

He looked angry at Sylvester and I, "I was otherwise occupied, you jokers. Oh, never you mind. At least I have enough time now. Hail a cab, dog; we have a case."

I snarled lowly at him as he turned to the street. 'Dog' was an annoying name that the inspector had given me, he had thought of such a name for me for no other reason than to cause me angst. I had no true idea of why he wanted to make grief for me; apparently, he was a cat person. He was always kind to Mrs. Hudson, when the two of them met.

Sylvester patted me on the shoulder, with a sympathetic frown. In any case, I hailed the cabby, and we all walked inside.

He filled us in quickly on what he had wanted us to take part in; I will not put down all of what he had told us, for, after about every five syllables, he uttered a curse more vile than the last. I shall try to translate it in a more civilized manner.

At around five-O'-clock, a man's home was broken into. Very similarly to how the Navy man's apartment was entered; leaving no trace of exit, or entrance. The building, in fact, was built in nearly the same style as the previous abode. And in a similar fashion, a valuable piece had been stolen from a nook in the corner of a wall; a near facsimile of the home we had visited a half a day before. Besides, of course, the dead body of the man smack dab in the front of the door. Gregson said that a Bobby had been patrolling the grounds around the street, when he heard the drunken singing of the neighborhood fool.

He bumped into the policeman, who could tell the man was heavily intoxicated by his breath. The policeman said he didn't recognize the man, which was natural; he had just been appointed to this neighborhood of London. He still had a bottle in his hand, of cheep liquor by the look and smell of it (the drunkard, not the policeman. Though he did admit to having a nip of wine a few hours before). The Bobby had led him out not fifteen meters past bumping into him, when he heard a loud shriek pierce the calm air. He left the man to his own movements, and sped off quickly to the focal point of the scream.

"He just left the drunk there?!"

He spoke like he was talking to a child, "Of course. The threat to the people is always a greater part of the duty than the leading of misguided souls."

Sylvester and I rolled our eyes. We'd heard this speech many times before, almost like it was required to be taught to all novice policemen. He laughed, disregarding my friend's outburst, and continued his narrative.

After a time of searching, he whistled for more Police to come to his aid, knocking on and sometimes breaking the doors of homes on the street when they finally found the man, dead as sawdust, sprawled out on his stomach with his head towards the door. The men investigated further into the home, finding the information said before; no exit, no entrance, nothing. There was no blood, or scar, or any sort of gash on the body at all. Not even a bump on his head. The only thing that was perculiar was the man's eyes, poised in a gaze of shock and fear. Otherwise, he could have easily been mistaken to be alive.

"Poison," We said at the same time. It was obvious, with what the grizzly bear had told us. "Elegant way for a person to be killed. Personal, if it came to that. The killer knew him."

Yet again my friend surprised me with his criminal knowledge. But I combatted against his wit with my own medical intuition. "Has there been any evidence of possible poisons?"

He shook his head. "None. Aside from... no, nothing else."

Sherlock glared at him, knowing that he ws hiding a valuable piece of information behind that smirk the inspector had on his face. I put my hand to my chin, trying to avoid the topic. "Fascinating... There're a number of untraceable poisons in the world, few of them available in England without ties. Very important ties.

We tried to question him further, but he stayed mute. It seemed that we would have to find out more when we arrived, a piece of information that I could easily see (as could Gregson) was tearing at Sylvester's insides. If there was anything you could do to get at his nerves, it was to leave him out of the loop. I'm the same way, when it comes to egotistical bigots who get all of the fame and glory from our work.

But I digress.