On the card on the case was a site and a name
With an email address and a private domain
That could access the phone from remote were it lost
(Or placed on a killer, if that bridge were crossed).
When the phone was turned on they could track where it went
From the phone’s GPS, which was not efficient,
For they waited and waited and waited some more,
With the policemen becoming increasingly bored.
“A good plan,” said one, with his face in a sneer,
“Except that it’s broken – it says the phone’s here.”
“Oh yes,” said the sleuth, with a curious stare,
“Broken… I think I’ll just step out for some air,
Just a minute, don’t worry, be back in a dash,”
And the sleuth disappeared down the stairs in a flash.
He smiled at the cabbie that was parked on the curb,
The cab that he had seen but had never observed,
That had been at the place they had promised to meet
And that now sat right here, at Two Two One Bee.
“It’s you,” he said simply, though he already knew,
But the cabbie still nodded – “Might I have a word with you?
Just say the word and we’ll go back inside
But if you arrest me, you’ll never know why.”
“I don’t need to know why,” the sleuth said instead.
“I was hired to find who, not why they were dead.”
But that wasn’t true, no not for the sleuth,
Who needed to know nothing less than the truth
Of the how and the why and the games people play –
So he got in the cab and it whisked him away.
They returned to the flat at the top of the stairs
And were met through the door with a roomful of glares
From Lestrade the policemen, and the rest of his team
Who were following clues and just come from the scene
Where the phone and the luggage weren’t there anymore –
For the sleuth had retrieved it some hours before.
“A break-in?” he asked, oh the sleuth in a snit,
“Or ‘detecting,’ if that’s what we’re calling it?”
“It’s a drugs bust!” Lestrade said, a smile on his face.
Waving his people through the room and the case
On the table, the one from the woman in pink,
Though he was eyeing them, not quite sure what to think.
“It’s there on your table, you can’t think I’m that dim,
And you told me the killer would have it with him.
Sherlock, work with me, I need you, you know…
Please just work with us and give me the phone.”
“The phone? Haven’t got it,” and that was the truth.
Now this was a puzzle for the doctor, the sleuth
(And the policemen, though they would be no help at all)
The clues were the case and the house and the scrawl
Of a name on the floor of a person long passed
That had been so important it was thought at the last
And “OH!” from the sleuth, “Oh brilliant, how smart!
She knew she’d be murdered just right from the start!
She planted the phone on the killer, you see,
For someone to find him, all you need is the key
And the key is a word that she holds near her heart,
Something short she could write right before she departs.”
The sleuth was on fire, at the top of his game –
“The word on the floor, it was Rachel, a name!”
Lestrade and the doctor shared a curious glance,
But the sleuth hardly stopped to give them a chance
To follow his logic, his lightning fast brain –
“The key is a word, and that word is a name.”
The place was called Angelo’s, right down the street
Near the address where they’d made plans to meet
With the killer – the one who just couldn’t be found,
Who could hunt in a crowd without making a sound.
The owner, of course, was a friend of the sleuth’s
So he got them a candle and he got them a booth
By the window, perfect for watching outside,
And the door, quick to leave once the man had been spied.
They sat and they talked and they watched and they thought
And they waited for the killer who couldn’t be caught
But they saw only people, not killers, and cabs:
One that slowed to a stop – in the back was a man! –
And it sat and it waited across from Two Two.
The sleuth and the doctor knew just what to do.
With a crash and a yell they dashed into the night
But the cab saw them coming and drove out of sight!
But they chased it as best as they could on their feet
Down alleys, from rooftops, and all through the streets
‘Til they caught it and stopped it, but the man in the back
Wasn’t a killer – he was a tourist, in fact,
So they welcomed him warmly to the land ‘cross the pond
Before the cops came and they had to abscond.
“That,” said the doctor, when they stopped for a laugh,
And the sleuth, with a chuckle, bent nearly in half,
“Was ridiculous, crazy, just the most that I’ve done!”
(Though he couldn’t deny that it all had been fun.)
“Mrs. Hudson!” called the sleuth through their landlady’s door,
“He will take the room on the second up floor!”
John smiled at the joke and looked out to the street
And was met with his cane and a glance at his feet
And a laugh from the man where they had just dined,
“Not that you need it, but you left this behind.”
John smiled at the man and he smiled at his cane.
He smiled at the leg that was barely in pain.
He smiled at the sleuth and the things he could see.
Then he smiled his way home into Two Two One Bee.
He ran and he dashed just as fast as he could
Away from the man who was up to no good
To the flat and the sleuth with his curious text –
He wasn’t expecting what he saw next:
The sleuth on the couch looking calm as can be
With a patch on his arm – no – “This problem needs three.
There’s a phone on the counter, now John, if you might
Dictate a message – meet here on this night:
Two Two Northumberland, right about twelve;
Policemen are useless – we’ll catch him ourselves!”
“And you couldn’t do it? You have got a phone.”
“Come now, John really, my number’s well known.
We’re texting a killer – he’d only respond
For sure if he thought that he hadn’t been conned.
“We’re texting a killer,” John said with a grin.
“Don’t tell me you’re ruing your choice to move in?”
“Just slightly,” said John as he rose to his feet.
“Good then!” cried the sleuth, “Let’s grab something to eat.”
The sleuth was still missing, and the sun was now down,
And Sally’s remarking had left him afrown
So he stamped and he stomped and he limped down the street
Where a ring ring ring RINGING followed the path of his feet
To a phone on the corner and the camera across
And a car with the woman and the call from her boss,
The man in the dark with his eyes everywhere
Who met John with a smile and a curious stare
In the dark of a warehouse, with a job and a plan
(Though John could do nothing but distrust this man).
“So tell me,” the man said, umbrella a-twirl,
“Could it be you trust Sherlock alone in this world?
I know what they say, about your limp and your mind,
A different perspective, though, I’m sure would find
That the tremor’s from quiet and not from the war.
You thrive on the danger, and you’re looking for more –
I can tell you quite clearly, if it’s danger you need,
You’ll find it, and then some, at Two Two One Bee.”
“What are you after?” the good doctor inquired.
“A job, well, of sorts, if you agree to be hired.
To spy on dear Sherlock, tell me all that you see –
He and his sleuthing do so worry me.”
The doctor stared silent, his fingers a-twiddle
As he pondered the man who was mostly a riddle
With a touch of some drama and a dash of a lie
And thought, ‘There is no way I would work for this guy.’
He thought for a minute, ignoring his phone –
It was late, he was tired, he wanted to go home –
But the text was persistent so he turned from the man:
Two Two One Bee, come as soon as you can.
The second came after but he just raised his brow:
The sooner the better, in fact, just come now.
The policeman was waiting, but Holmes said with a jab
“We’ll follow right after,” and he hailed them a cab.
The doctor was silent as they left Two Two One
But his fingers were twitching as though holding a gun.
“So,” he began, as they followed the car,
“A policeman?” he asked, “Is that what you are?”
“I’m a consulting detective, one and only, you see –
When the police have a case they can’t solve, they call me!”
“But that thing, when we met – you just couldn’t have known!”
The sleuth gave a smile and requested his phone.
“It’s a new phone, a young phone, so not from your dad,
And they gave it away when the marriage went bad
As the back reads, quite clearly, ‘Love Clara, kiss kiss,’
With scratches from charging it – they often miss.
There’s many a thing I can tell from the grooves,
But I deduce it’s their habit that you don’t approve.
From that I just reason what I’ve seen and I’ve thunk:
You’ve a brother, called Harry, and Harry’s a drunk.”
“That’s amazing! Just brilliant! How clever!” he gushed
(And the sleuth ducked his head with the hint of a blush)
“I can see why the Yard called you up for this case…
But I feel I should point out one tiny mistake.”
“Mistake?” scoffed the sleuth with his lips in a curl.
“Just one, tiny, mind you… see, Harry’s a girl.”
(Though it’s no less impressive, thinks the doctor, agape)
As he followed the sleuth past the lights and the tape
Through the house, up the stairs, and then right up ahead
Was a woman, a pink one, and she was quite dead.
With a scan of her coat and the state of her hair
(And the state of her marriage – also disrepair)
The sleuth knew where she came from and why she was there
And he knew, just from looking, oh the man was an ace!
He knew the policeman had missed out with her case.
“Her case!” he cried, manic, as he ran down the stairs,
“Where is it? Did she eat it? Did it melt into air?”
Then quick as a flash he was gone out the door –
Forgetting the poor doctor still on the fourth floor.
So the good doctor sat and considered what’s said
Before typing a search in the World Wide Web,
Where the man with the eyes had a blog and a site:
‘The Science of Deduction;’ he read into the night.
The science and study to observe and deduce –
It was wordy and weirdy (and rather obtuse).
But the man with the eyes and the things he could see
Had John at the door by a quarter to three
Where Holmes – call me Sherlock – had already moved in
And brought with him chaos and clutter and din
(And science and wonder and running and crime!
Although John doesn’t know about these at the time).
With a gleam in his eye and a swish of his coat
He greeted the policeman who had come with a note,
(And a body or four) with a too-gleeful shout
And dashed for the door with a quick “Going out!”
Leaving John with a cuppa, a frown, and a sit
And a moment to wonder, “So then, is this it?”
When the silence was shattered with a voice from the door,
“You’ve surely seen danger… Would you like to see more?”
John looked at his leg and he looked at the cane,
He looked at the man with the eyes and the name,
He looked at the flat with the clutter and mess,
He thought of the danger and he said – “Oh god, yes.”
The story begins, as I know you want more
With a story, not borey, of a man and a war.
A man and a war and a limp and a cane –
A good man, a doctor, John Watson in name!
Waking now from the war that waged on in his head
He sighed in the dark, and he rolled out of bed
Where a lark for a park took him out on a hike
In the park with the bench, and the bench with the Mike
And the Mike with a mate, and the mate with a flat
With the doctor himself in clear need of that.
And the mate was a man with mercurial eyes
Who was quick with a trick and a bit of surprise
With a glance at his stance and his face and his phone
He told things of the doctor he could not have known.
“Brilliant! Astounding! Amazing!” He’d say.
“You’ve heard it from Mike, there’s no other way!”
The man with the eyes with a wave of his hand
Denied the excitement like it hadn’t been planned.
“I could tell from the plant of your feet on the floor.
I could tell from the moment you walked through the door!
You told me yourself, with the clothes on your back.
Now answer the question: Afghan or Iraq?”
(The doctor just stuttered and stumbled his praise.)
“I’m loud with my music and I won’t talk for days
I’m rude and I’m clever, and that’s not the worst-”
“Shouldn’t you lead with the best and tell me that first?
You could tell me about you, and I’d do the same –
Forget best or worst, I could do with a name!”
The man with the eyes and a smirk and a wink
Was gone through the door before he had time to think.
“You’re a doctor, a soldier, no stranger to strife –
It’s only a flat share, not the rest of your life!
Meet me tomorrow? Sometime around three?
The name’s Sherlock Holmes, the place Two Two One Bee.”