I've been away the past few days, so you get four prompts filled at once!
Prompts:
- From goodpenmanship: ice
- From Hades Lord of the Dead: high-profile case
- From goodpenmanship: gambling den
- From W. Y. Traveller: A carriage pulls up outside Baker Street ...
"Have I not remarked to you before, Watson, that it is the commonplace crimes that are the hardest to solve? The more unusual, the more unique, the easier it is to find the solution." Holmes glanced at the carriage pulling up opposite us, on the step of 221 Baker Street. "I wager our guest is about to provide more evidence to the point. That is Lord Weltinghamshire's carriage, and the papers have been full of details about his son's notorious death."
We met Lord Weltinghamshire pacing in our rooms, and Holmes bid him to sit. "Don't send for Mrs Hudson, Watson. My lord, I already know why you have come, and I already have our answer."
"You could not possibly!" Weltinghamshire exclaimed, his trim moustache fluttering with the force of his words. "Scotland Yard's best detectives have been able to make nothing of it."
"Scotland Yard do not use my methods."
"I have not even told you my story."
"You do not need to. I already know."
"Then tell me, what happened? How, in a gambling den filled with his enemies, eating nothing and drinking only from his own flask, did my son choke to death without anyone laying a hand on him?"
"It was the ice."
Weltinghamshire slumped back in his chair, erect posture giving way to his grief. "Please. I believe you," he said lowly, voice broken. "Explain it to me. I must know."
"Your son had many enemies, and was well-known for only drinking from his own flask to avoid being poisoned, and even when he used a glass, only one he had seen rinsed out with his own eyes. The one place his caution failed him was with ice.
"It took a cunning mind to think of, and a certain level of trust to carry it out. The killer froze a tasteless, colourless poison into pieces of ice, which your son then put in his drink. As the ice melted, the poison was released, and your son choked."
Weltinghamshire closed his eyes, hiding his face behind his hand. When he lowered it, only the barest redness around his eyes betrayed any emotion. "Thank you, Mr Holmes. I wanted to know, and now I do." He held up a hand. "Please, don't tell me who it was. I have my suspicions, but I do not trust my ability to restrain myself if they are concerned. Best for Scotland Yard to find them first." He stood to leave, then paused in the door. "Scotland Yard will find them?"
"Scotland Yard do not have much in the way of imagination, but they make up for it in tenacity," Holmes said. "Your son's murderer will not go unpunished, my lord."