Wednesday, April 15, 2020

The Murderous Miracle Sherlock Homes - Creative Story Essays

The Murderous Miracle: Sherlock Homes - Creative Story The Murderous Miracle A Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Style Mini-Mystery I awakened from my morning slumber and groggily entered the foyer to find Holmes sitting in his chair in a speculative pose while thoughtfully smoking on one of his many pipes. "Good Morning Holmes!, " I said in one of my Cheeriest tones, which wasn't very impressive, due to the fact I am not a morning person "And what wakes you up so early this fine morning?" "Early?" Holmes replied "Why it's nearly noontime, it's you who have been sleeping in! And making an awful racket with that dreadful snoring of yours!" I was struck by a paroxysm of coughing as Holmes' smoke entered my lungs, "Noontime? Nonsense, That pipe must be doing more damage than I thought! It is a tad early for that kind of thing anyway!" said I, a bit less cheerier than before due to Holmes' mindless banter. He only smiled and said "See for yourself,my good man, look through the window onto the common, and tell me what you see..." I did as he told, clearing my eyes, and to my shock I saw the townspeople all about in their daily hustle and bustle which was common to northern London preceding teatime. "Well, it appears you are right! People are at work, conducting their business and the like. I'm awfully sorry, I'm just rather irritable in the morning." "Quite alright my friend, it's understandable, tell me, what else do you see at the window?" Holmes calmly stated. "Well, Nothing out of the ordinary, as I said before, just..wait! There is a crowd of people around a car right next to our doorstep!" I exclaimed. " Is the man a shady character with a dark beard and an umbrella on his shoulder?" Holmes asked. "Why Yes! That describes him perfectly! Who is he and how do you know him?" I asked. "Well,that happens to be Sir Reginald Chaucer of Pottingshire, and also one of the most wealthy men in all of England." said he. "So? What importance is he to us? And why does he happen to be on our doorstep?" I voiced. "He happens to be suspected of the murder of one Friedrich Nietzche because of financial reasons, and is presumably our newest client." Sir Chaucer was a very strange man, very eccentric, those were the first two thoughts to enter my mind, even as he was climbing the stairs to the designated "meeting room". I thought this, not because he was rich, for I do not like to stereotype a man that way, but as he progressed up the stairs occasionally he would pause, mutter something to himself, and go on. Those were not the doings of a sane man. But for every bit that he was strange, I was ten times more intrigued by this man, and in wondering why he was here had piqued my curiosity to the highest mark. But as he came through the door I tried my best to disguise the inquisitive look upon my countenance and took a seat. "Welcome!" my friend called "I assume that you are Sir Reginald Chaucer of Pottingshire?" "Of course I am! Who else would I be? I do hope I haven't come to a drunken sod and not an private detective. At any rate, I don't want to speak here at all, it's too much peasantry for my taste, and I fear I could not stay here long without quickly becoming nauseous." Sir Reginald, who obviously had no need for formal introductions, replied. "Therefore," he continued, cutting off a reply from Holmes "you will come with me to my estate in Pottingshire whether or whether not it pleases you to do so." "But, kind Sir," I interjected "Most of our best work is conceived right here, and you might be interrupting the detective process!" "I did not pay you for your own comfort, but for mine! And if you are the sort of detectives who rely on a certain room for your brain power, I think I'll be looking somewhere else!" Sir Reginald complained. "Don't worry good man," my friend said "It's just that Dr. Watson here is a bit bold for his own good, and I can assure you that such extensive methods need not be taken," And as he saw the look of astonishment on my face he cast a discreet wink my way. "If only," Holmes

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