Sherlock Holmes: The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
Journal 3 of 9
The name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm a detective. I get all kinds of cases around here in London. As a matter of fact I'm working on the case of Sir Charles Baskerville. The poor, old man was found dead on the street in the middle of the night. Well actually, Charles had an estate worth a million pounds. His nephew, Henry, is in town now; occupying Baskerville Hall, to keep it running. My partner, Watson, and I are in the midst of tracking down a a spy of Henry. We saw this black, bearded man in a cab across the street yesterday following Henry and Dr. Mortimer. Dr. Mortimer is also helping out with Sir Charles case. Anyway, I was quick enough in my whits to catch the cab number as it sped off, once we were spotted. Mr. John Clayton, the cab driver of no. 2704 was contacted and sent to my house this afternoon. I had a brief chat with him about th man he was driving today. Mr. Clayton looked shocked that we knew he had been hauling a man around that was following someone. The cab driver told me that the man said he was a detective and that his name was Sherlock Holmes. I cracked up in laughter at him. So apparently some old bloke is on to me as well, even taking it as far as pretending to be me. How rude, but cleaver idea at that I must admit. All of thse events: Charles death, Charles' money from the will distributed, Henry's missing boots, Henry's spy and now someone impersonating me; they all must fit together, but how is the question.
©Bridget M. Nelson 2007
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