"Welcome to the Samson Oddity Shoppe," the shop's owner bowed his head. John nodded, "Thanks."
"What can I do for you, detective?" the owner, now named Frank, asked him. "Well, I have a lot to ask of you," John admitted. Frank nodded and offered John a seat at one of the plump chairs. John sat down and Frank sat opposite of him. John began to ask, "What do you know of the tall man?"
"Some say he's just a spirit, others say he's a person. What I believe, detective, is that people never bother to think outside the box," Frank explained. John tilted his head in confusion. Frank rephrased, "There is a grain of truth in both."
"I heard the Council asks you plenty to help them drum up tourism, is this true?" John asked him. Frank nodded. He answered, "Yes, Mr. Watson, I do it for the sake of the town. Few people take interest in small towns such as this when there's something like London to wander in."
"Then, can you tell me if they asked you to wear a plague doctor costume and wander Sherwood every night?" John gestured. Frank shook his head. "No, they hadn't. They were asking me to make posters for the London Crows. They're the ones who'll wear the doctor man costumes, not me," he said. John nodded, "How tall are you Mr. Dash?"
"Oh, roughly 1.6 meters (5'4")," Frank replied. John sighed and pondered. Frank Dash didn't look to be someone who could be the height of the tall man. Stilts wouldn't be far out of the equation, though given that he'd have to work around a tight schedule; John felt that Frank wasn't the tall man.
"When did the tall man start showing up?" John jotted notes as he listened. "To be fair with you, I don't know. No one does. But I do know those ravens didn't come around until he did," Frank was grabbing for a drink he had on the table. John glanced up, "Has someone new moved in that might've seen coincidental?"
"Just the homeless from London, believe it or not," Frank sighed. John stared. Frank chewed on his lips, "We're not as costly as London is, and so many come here in droves. We don't mind but since our town's small they're lucky to get into the churches every night."
"So, perhaps the ravens came from them?" John theorized. Frank shook his head, "No, the homeless been coming here for a while. The ravens and your tall man came later."
"Okay, maybe someone came here for work or some other?" John continued.
"No sir. The town doesn't have the amenities. So most don't bother," Frank shook his head. John nodded, "The ravens could they learn to follow people around?"
"Ravens are one of the most intelligent birds in the known world. If reared early enough they can do just about anything a human can if not better," Frank shrugged. John blinked, "How long would it take to rear a flock to do anything?"
"Depends, but six or seven years isn't too far off," Frank summed as he sipped on his drink. John wrote it down and glanced up, "Why would anyone train ravens?"
"Who's to know, but the way these ravens work it's hard to say for sure. If you lost your wedding ring, you'd find it in your hands next day, delivered and proper by a raven. More the one adorned in gold," Frank shrugged. John blinked, "They return things?"
"Oh yes, I don't know how they manage but they seem to track people down just to return things to them. My, they saved my arse a few times, lost me keys once or twice and I always get them back," Frank nodded. John wrote on his notepad a quick note about the odd behaviors. It entranced him that these particular ravens would return lost items to people. A far cry from the most documented cases revolving around ravens stealing shiny items or objects. Though, it even impressed John that these ravens were, pardon his pun, soaring past their brethren with intelligence.
John then nodded, "What stories have you heard about the tall man, if any?"
"If any," Frank rubbed his chin as he pondered. He then nodded. He began to regel a tale he heard, that a famous actor and his crew had been filming in Sherwood for a show. And that one night during a nasty storm that the actor encountered the tall man. "He never told anyone that story, the actor. Neither the crew either for that matter, said that no one would believe them and whatnot. Anyway, the bloke's a detective searching for clues to a homicide. And he's coming around the bend when the light above him comes crashing down. The wind had been blowing so hard that day it knocked the light off its support. The actor was right where it would've hit him, but it stopped just before it touched him. The actor was smart and covered his face and turned away from the light. Anyway the light never hit him and he's confused, they all were. He gets up, looks around, the light wasn't anywhere. Then when someone moved another light over to look for it, behind the actor was a tall man adorned in a Plague Doctor costume. They say not to turn around, but of course this being a trope in its own right. The actor turns around and is staring into the eyes of the tall man. It lasted only two minutes before lights came on and the tall man evaporated before their eyes. The actor since, holds to this day he encountered a ghost."
"Truly, I never heard anything like that before," John shook his head. Frank nodded, "Aye, the only reason we knew was because a lad caught some footage of it. As I said, the actor who it happened to keeps it hidden, I heard from a bird, heh that he never even told his wife."
"Is it someone I know?" John watched him shift spots in his seat. Frank chuckled, "A woman says she never kiss and tells. I oblige the same principle, I cannot tell you who it was that it happened to. Bad business if I did. And the man was so nice to me. It'd be a travesty if I break charity with him, besides his face in this Shoppe will drive the fan girls of his here."
"Can you give me a hint, at least?" John gestured to Frank. Frank pondered before nodding, "He's a well-known actor who plays a well-known detective."
"So, what do you think?" John asked him. Frank pondered, "Well, it might as well be a ghost. If I didn't learn history, I'd believe that were plague doctors here."
"So, perhaps a man died wearing a costume?" John tilted his head. Frank shrugged, "Most know the history of Sherwood better than I, but even they would say the same. No man had ever died wearing a Plague Doctor costume, much less an actual doctor coming here."
John nodded. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dash," John smiled as he stood up. Frank stood up as well and shook his hand. Led out into the street and when Frank re-entered his store, John checked his phone. Sherlock wanted him to come to a small café called Lovelace and then asked what he found. John was quick to tell him that he had the notes and that he also had a cassette for them to play. John hailed a cab and the cabby drove him to Lovelace.
Paying the cabby the fare, John exited and glanced up, no ravens in sight. He sighed and entered the café; there in the corner was Sherlock as he was looking down at his phone. John neared him and pulled out the cassette for him to see. Sherlock glanced up and said, indifferent, "Well?"
"Well, not much luck on my end," John took a spot at the table and handed Sherlock the tape and rummaged for his notepad. Sherlock held the cassette and looked at it, "London Crow?"
"Yeah it's a song," John flipped through the notepad. Sherlock stared, "Even I never heard of it."
"It came from a village close to the Scotland border, so beats me," John sighed. Sherlock looked at him, "Why call it "London Crow"?"
"You tell me," John handed him the notepad. Sherlock grabbed it with his free hand and read through the notes. "So how's your end?" John asked him. Sherlock shrugged, "Jim was extorting money."
"So why kill him and not take the money?" John asked. Sherlock groaned, "It's not always about the money."
"You just said he was extorting money," he heard John remind him as he read. From what John had learned it appeared that no one could tell when the tall man appeared. he and the ravens showed up around the same time. The homeless have been coming to Sherwood for a while so they couldn't have been responsible. Sherlock then noticed a small sentence that John wrote, about a man and his aide asking the same questions. Sherlock's eyes lit up with interest but pulled away when John was trying to get his attention. He, being Sherlock, interrupted John with, "A man and his aide?"
"Yeah," John blinked and stared at him. Sherlock blinked, "There's nothing more you wrote other than. A raving mad man and his aide came into the store asking about a man in the doctor man attire."
"I wrote it down to fall back on when I had nothing left to ask," John admits. Sherlock shook his head, "No, no, it's good. I happened to hear from someone of a man and a woman asking the same questions."
"So, what do you think?" John looked at Sherlock, expecting a longwinded answer that would go on for the ages if allowed. Sherlock shrugged, "I think they're connected, somehow."
"What now?" John blinked, surprised that Sherlock didn't give his usual longwinded answers. Sherlock handed back the notepad and raised the cassette with his free hand, studying it. When the waitress came around with more coffee, Sherlock asked her if the café had a cassette player. She headed behind the counter and reappeared with a portable player. Sherlock took it into his hands while John thanked her as she went and claimed a set of plates to bring to tables. Sherlock put in the cassette and turned on the player. Using the sliders he messed with the volume until it was loud enough for them to hear. A man with a distinct accent began to and string instruments played as he sung. In certain parts there were others who sung along with the man, haunting with their vocals. Sherlock and John listened at the song "London Crow" played:
Lon-don Crow!
Lon-don Crow!
Memories that you never for-gotten,
You pray for freedom,
But alas!
The life you once had is over,
A fleeting kiss from your lover,
And now you're a rover who grovels in the midnight grove.
You dream of sweet salvation,
But all you see is dreadful temptation.
The only comfort you find is in lamentation.
You roam the country side,
Where no one wanders outside,
In the midnight where the moon shines brightly,
Your eyes shine in the moonlight.
You sail through the quiet breeze,
The cold doesn't make you freeze.
Lon-don Crow!
Lon-don Crow!
What got you down?
You were a great man,
Now you wander aimlessly,
Living a life of hopeless dreams,
Dreaming of your old life,
With your sweet wife,
Now gone to the sailing wind,
As you remain on the cold brimstone,
Looking up to the moonlight,
Seeking a fleeting kiss from her, but it never comes.
Lon-don Crow!
Lon-don Crow!
What got you down?
Pick yourself up! Life ain't through.
Life has its days,
And Lord knows you had yours.
But now it's not the time,
Time is short,
And son, you're not getting any younger.
So find your salvation,
Ignore the temptations,
Break away from your lamentation.
Your life ain't over,
Stop being a rover and come right over,
Home is where the heart is,
And your home is here with us.
Tell us good ventures,
Tell us stories that take us on adventures,
Please Lon-don Crow, won't you stay with us?
Our home is small,
The hinges are rocking,
But home is where the heart is.
Hardships are what life entails,
But please Mr. Lon-don Crow, stay with us and we'll work them through,
This is our home.