The Last Notes From the Dispatch Box of John H Watson, MD by Ashton Hugh

Author:Ashton, Hugh [Ashton, Hugh]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Inknbeans Press
Published: 2015-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

The Case of the Disappearing Spoon

Of all the cases associated with my friend, the celebrated consulting detective Mr.  Sherlock Holmes, one of the most amusing was this, which I have chosen to entitle “ The Case of the Disappearing Spoon”.  There are those who may feel that the events related here are too trivial to have engaged the attention of what I consider to have been the greatest mind of his age, let alone be worth the setting down in print, but I nonetheless present them as an example of the kind of problem on which Holmes occasionally found himself engaged.

In this instance, our customary leisurely breakfast was interrupted by the entry of Mrs.  Hudson, announcing the arrival of “ a client, Mr.  Holmes.  He sent in his card, and said to me that you would remember him.”

“ Indeed I do,” Holmes remarked, examining the square of pasteboard.  “ Arthur Bourne-Hunter.  I remember him clearly from our time at school together.  He was in a slightly more advanced class than I, and was a keen cricketer, as I recall, a pastime in which I took, and continue to take, little interest.  Show him in, Mrs.  Hudson.  And another cup for his coffee would, I believe, be welcome.”

Mr.  Bourne-Hunter proved to be a man of moderate middle age, attired as a man of business, and a fine gleaming top hat set off the ensemble whose foundation was provided by a costly overcoat.  There appeared to be a certain roughness about the collar and cuffs of his shirt, and I noticed a little scuffing around the worn heels of his boots, however.

“ Well, Holmes,” were his first words to my friend.  “ I will wager that you never expected to see me as one of your customers.”

“ I am always delighted to see my old school fellows,” answered Holmes, “ no matter to what depths they may have fallen.”

The other’s face fell as he pondered the implications of the words, and then he burst out laughing.  “ It is nothing of that nature, Holmes,” he explained.  “ I stand accused of no crime or wrongdoing.  Indeed, the matter regarding which I have come to consult you is of so trifling a nature that I would hardly consider it worthy of your attention.”

“ Tell me of it, all the same,” my friend instructed him.  “ Since you appear to have followed my career with some attention, you will need no introduction to my friend and colleague, Dr.  John Watson, who has been good enough to reproduce some of my cases, albeit in a regrettably sensational and dramatic manner.”

I bowed towards our visitor, and he returned the salute.

“ I observe,” continued Holmes, “ that your happy marriage has been blessed by the addition of a daughter to your family.  A second child, but I condole with you on the loss of the other infant.”

“ It would appear that you have been keeping your eyes on my fortunes,” replied our visitor, visibly astonished.

“ By no means,” answered Holmes.  “ I merely observed the charms attached to your watch-chain, the second of which is

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