About the Author: Michael Mallory is the author of the "Amelia Watson" and "Dave Beauchamp" mystery series, and some 150 short stories, mostly mystery. He has also written 11 nonfiction books on pop culture subjects. By day he is an entertainment journalist.
As I sit down to write these impressions of the case most recently concluded by my friend and colleague Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I am struck by the folly of expecting that life can be in any way predictable. Up until a month ago, I continued to struggle with the absence of Holmes from my life, having believed that he had perished in Switzerland at the hands of the villain Moriarty. Now I am back at 221b Baker Street and contending with not one Holmes, but two; my living friend, and the lifelike replica of him he had constructed to use as a decoy for a would-be assassin. After mistakenly bidding it “Good morning” on more than one occasion, I requested that he obscure the bust with a cloth, which he did.
With Holmes back in London, it took little time for clients to begin arriving at our door again. It was on a late May morning in 1894 that a man came to our abode seeking assistance in resolving a perplexing problem. It was not, however, a member of the public asking for help, but rather Inspector Tobias Gregson of Scotland Yard.
“On behalf of the entire Metropolitan force, Mr. Holmes,” he began, “let me just say that I am truly glad you’re not really dead.”
“Very generous of you and the force,” Holmes replied. “To what to I owe the pleasure of your appearance this morning?”
The inspector removed his round hat and began to pace. “She’s a right puzzler, she is,” he said.
“Rather than wear out the carpet, Gregson, perhaps you should take a seat and tell me about it.”