You are on page 1of 1

TWO DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS

Inspired by "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle"

'Twas two days after Christmas and in one part of town, And taking his items, Baker turned with a jerk,
Sherlock Holmes was lounging in his purple dressing gown. As Sherlock Holmes and I set straight to work.
A felt hat was hung on the wood chair with care, To the Alpha we went, then to Covent Garden
Looking seedy and cracked - much worse for the wear. Where Breckinridge against our pleas seemed to harden.
The forceps and lens were an arm’s length away, But we finally found the origin of the geese,
So Sherlock Holmes was engaged well today. From one Mrs. Oakshott of Brixton Road, east.
Peterson was the giver, Holmes was the taker We overheard Ryder, who was hot on the trail,
Of the hat and goose, "For Mrs. Henry Baker." So as a four-wheeler passed, we decided to hail.
Holmes began to infer from the battered old hat
Grizzled hair, self-respect, and odd things like that. Riding to Baker Street, of the mystery, no mention,
But all the way there, we could sense Ryder’s tension.
Then Peterson entered, astonished and dazed, As he saw the truth, our guest stifled a howl:
And showed us upon what the goose must have grazed. The stone had been rescued from his bar-tailed fowl.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, At Holmes’s request, I helped the small imp,
But a bonny blue thing in the shape of a tear. To whom Holmes referred as simply "a shrimp."
With facets that twinkled, sparkled, and shone, The little man clutched at the detective’s knees,
I knew in a moment it was the Countess’ stone. Shrieking and begging and putting forth pleas.

Holmes sprang to the Times to review all the history For Sherlock Holmes, the case held no glory,
Of the Hotel Cosmopolitan jewel thief mystery. He was simply looking for an end to the story.
The crime was fixed on a plumber named Horner. Cusack, the maid and Maudsely, who went bad -
No Christmas pie, no plumb; for him, a corner. Both wanted the stone that Holmes just now had.
More rapid than lightening, Holmes’s orders now came, The hotel attendant did the deed of evil,
As he wrote an advert and called the papers by name: Fed the stone to a goose, in the hopes of retrieval .
"Evening News, the Star, Globe, and Pall Mall! There were two that matched, but he hadn’t looked.
St. James’s Gazette, Standard, Echo, et al." So now it seemed that Ryder’s goose was cooked.

The stone which Holmes held was the devil’s pet bait, Holmes said "No more words," and turned to the lout,
With a sinister history for a forty-grain weight. Ryder opened the door and then ran straight out.
Robberies, vitriol, three people now dead; The crisp rattle of footfalls, up from the street,
And all for a stone which should have been red. Told me Ryder knew that Holmes had him beat.
"I am not here to perform Scotland Yard's role,
Henry Baker then called on the street with his name, But it is just possible that I’m saving a soul.
Wearing a plain tam o’shanter, much to his shame. It’s the season of forgiveness, a time to have heart,
Holmes gave him his hat and then the bad news: Let us begin another case, in which a bird will take part."
That we were compelled to eat his fine goose.
"To eat it!" said he, as he rose from his chair,
"Do not fret, Mr. Baker, we have one more there."
Holmes offered to him the disjecta membra, - Scott Monty
Relics of an adventure he still could remember. December 1995

This and other similar items can be found on The Baker Street Blog.