Short stories

The Ciphered Letters

The morning of January 12, 1895, dawned
cold and clear in London. The sun shone
brightly in the sky, and the air was crisp
and invigorating. It was a perfect day for a
walk in the park.

As he often did on his days off, Dr. John
Watson was taking a leisurely stroll
through Regent's Park. He was enjoying
the peace and quiet of the morning, and
he was lost in thought when he heard a
voice call his name.

"Dr. Watson!" the voice called again.

Watson turned around and saw a man
running towards him. As the man got
closer, Watson recognized him as
Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.

"Good morning, Inspector," Watson said.
"What brings you to Regent's Park?"

"I'm investigating a murder," Estrade
said. "I think you might be able to help
me.'

"A murder?" Watson said. "Where?"

"In a house on Baker Street," Lestrade
said. " Just a few doors down from yours"

"Baker Street?" Watson said. "That's
terrible. I know the people who live there."

"I'm afraid it's even worse than that,"
Lestrade said. "The victim is Sherlock
Holmes."

Watson's jaw dropped. "Sherlock Holmes?" he said. "But that's impossible. He's the greatest detective in the world. He can't be dead."

'I'm afraid he is,' Lestrade said. "I saw the
body myself. There's no doubt about it."

Watson shook his head in disbelief. "I
don't understand," he said. "How could
this have happened?"

"I don't know," Lestrade said. "But I'm
determined to find out."

"I'll help you," Watson said. "Anything I can
do"

"Thank you,' Lestrade said. "'l need all the
help I can get"

Watson and Lestrade walked together to
Baker Street. When they arrived, they saw
a crowd of people gathered outside the
house. The police were keeping them
back, but they were all talking and
speculating about what had happened.

Watson and Lestrade pushed their way
through the crowd and entered the
house. The inside was a mess. Furniture
was overturned, and there were signs of a
struggle.

"What happened here?" Watson asked.

"It looks like someone broke in and
attacked Holmes," Lestrade said. "He was
stabbed multiple times."

"But who would do such a thing?" Watson
asked.

"I don't know," Lestrade said. "But I'm
going to find out."

Lestrade and Watson looked around the
room for clues. They found a few items
that had been left behind by the killer, but
they didn't seem to be very helpful.

"This is a strange case," Watson said.
"There doesn't seem to be much to go
on."

"I know," Lestrade said. "But I'm not giving
up. I'm going to find out who killed
Sherlock Holmes"

Lestrade and Watson spent the next few
hours investigating the crime scene. They
interviewed the neighbors and looked for
witnesses, but they didn't find anyone
who could tell them anything useful.

By the end of the day, Lestrade was no
closer to finding the killer. He was frustrated and angry. He couldn't believe
that someone had killed Sherlock Holmes
and he was determined to bring the killer
to justice.

"I'll find him," Lestrade said. "l promise
you"

The next day, Lestrade and Watson went
to Scotland Yard to look at the evidence in
the case. They examined the murder
weapon, a knife with a serrated blade, and
they looked at the notes that Holmes had
been working on when he was killed.

"There's nothing here that tells us who
killed Holmes," Lestrade said.

"I don't know," Watson said. "I think there
might be something here. Look at this
note"

Watson pointed to a note that Holmes
had written. It was a list of names, and it
had a question mark next to each name.

"What do you think this means?" Watson
asked.

"I don't know,' Lestrade said. "But it might
be a clue."

Lestrade and Watson spent the next few
days trying to identify the names on the
list. They interviewed people who knew
Holmes, and they searched his apartment
for clues.

{662}