An Element of Deceit: A Sherlock Holmes Case by James Moffett

Author:James Moffett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, sherlock, mystery, murder mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novel, sherlock holmes adventure
ISBN: 9781787053717
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2018-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

We made our way back through the strong-scented warehouse, and out into the cold and clear air of the street overlooking the river. As soon as we stepped outside, Holmes pressed on with a steady pace up the lane before stopping by an elderly fisherman unloading produce onto his wooden cart. He spoke furtively with the man who, upon receiving a few coins, produced my friend’s familiar coat.

Holmes removed his helmet and put the coat on over his uniform.

He had assumed the usual posture that was synonymous with his prowling of the city streets. As we walked along, he fumbled in his coat pockets and extracted his pipe.

“Now, Watson. Questions?” he asked, as we found ourselves at the intersection leading into Redcastle Close.

“Many, as a matter of fact,” I uttered breathlessly, as I strode forward to keep up with my friend’s hurried steps.

“But first, why let Becker go? He seems to know more than he divulged. Surely there’s something else he hasn’t told us. How could you be so sure he is not who we are looking for?”

“An interesting character,” said Holmes, inhaling deeply on his pipe. “One who certainly hides many secrets, no doubt. Do forgive me Watson. I believe I may have caused you some unnecessary agitation earlier. I fear I have had to resort to certain unwanted decisions. Indeed, I was compelled to engage the services of the Baker Street Irregulars to follow that costermonger’s footsteps in order to discover the source from which he acquired such distinct smelling tobacco. That search led to this address. A devious tactic, but a necessary one.”

He paused and spoke no more, as we came to the main street and signalled to a nearby cab driver.

“Well?” I asked, as we made our way towards the hansom.

Holmes seemed to come out of some deep thought. He shook his head and removed the pipe from his mouth.

“His hands Watson,” he said. “Delicate, untainted, and such well-kept fingernails.”

I was struck by my friend’s statement, having completely ignored this critical point. Consumed by the agitation of finding myself in an unfamiliar place, all the while in the presence of Otto Becker’s discreetly mysterious attitude, I failed to look for the most obvious of facts. As ever, Holmes had picked up on the minutest of details, without being distracted by the larger matters.

The entire quest, however, had been almost a complete failure. Holmes’s decision not to pursue Otto Becker’s possible involvement any further had meant that a new thread in the investigation into the murder had to be picked up. The name of Phineas did not mean anything, and we had no clues as to where to begin our new line of enquiry.

“A slight impediment, nothing more,” Holmes had said during our journey back.

He spoke confidently, as the cab rattled through the streets, but I could not fail to notice the barest hint of disappointment and vexation in his eyes at the turn of events.

“I spoke to Miss Harper’s housemaid,” my voice echoing in the hollow cab.

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