Easy-English Sherlock Holmes: The Blue Carbuncle

Easy-English Sherlock Holmes: The Blue Carbuncle - Complete

1.

London, England. 1889.

It was Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, when I made my way carefully through the icy London streets. A cold wind blew light snowflakes about and I hoped it wouldn't snow too heavily that afternoon.

I stomped my boots on the first of the stone steps outside 221b Baker Street, so I would not traipse ice and grit into Mrs. Hudson's hallway. It had been some time since I had lived here, sharing an apartment with my dear friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and I still had a key, so I unlocked the door and let myself in.

"Mrs. Hudson!" I shouted through to the kitchen where I knew the lady of the house would be busy, partly as a courtesy to let her know I was here, more in the hope she would see me shivering and offer a warm pot of tea. Which of course she did.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Watson." Mrs. Hudson beamed as she came into the hallway, wiping her hands on a floury apron. "My, you look quite frozen. Hurry yourself along to Mr. Holmes this instant and I shall bring you both a pot of hot tea."

"That would be most welcome, Mrs. Hudson," I said.

"And just look at my floury hands," the landlady went on. "Why, Dr. Watson, you must surely have known I was making your favourite scones today. The first batch will be coming out of the oven in no time."

"Splendid, Mrs. Hudson," I said. "Splendid. And with a pat of fresh butter and your wonderful strawberry jam, of course!"

"Of course," chuckled Mrs. Hudson.

I leaned in to Mrs. Hudson and whispered, "Don't tell anyone I said so, Mrs. H., but between the two of us you make far better scones than my dear wife, bless her."

"Oh, get away with you, Dr. Watson," Mrs. Hudson blushed, and she shuffled back into the kitchen, chuckling to herself.

I made my way up the stairs to the floor occupied by my dear friend, and knocked once.

"Come in, Watson!" Holmes called out.

2.

I pushed open the door and beamed a smile and a question.

"And just how did you know it was me, Holmes? The way I walked up the stairs, perhaps? Or the way I shuffled along the landing?"

Holmes dismissed my question with a wave of his hand.

"Really, Watson," he said, "it did not need any special detective skills to know of your arrival. First off, the bell did not ring, so clearly the visitor had a key. Only three people are privileged to have a key to this house. Mrs. Hudson and I, of course, and your good self. And secondly, you called out to Mrs. Hudson while in the hallway, in that booming voice of yours. A discussion about scones and strawberry jam, if I am not mistaken."

I smiled as I closed the door. It was always so obvious when Holmes explained his logic.

Holmes was laid out on the sofa, wearing his favourite purple dressing gown. He had been smoking his pipe, and reading the morning's newspapers, which were crumpled on the floor.

But what immediately caught my eye were the magnifying glass and the forceps on a wooden chair by the sofa, and, hanging from the back of the same chair, a battered old hat.

I knew immediately this hat did not belong to Holmes, and the magnifying glass and forceps nearby told me the hat was a clue in some sort of mystery Holmes was working on.