The Unforeseen

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Aqsa Mansoor

10 B

Sherlock Holmes Story

The Unforeseen

Over the past ten years, I have not yet become accustomed to the phenomenal approaches that my partner, Sherlock Holmes, uses to extract deductions and then eventually become able to decipher the case submitted to him, but instead, I am still as perplexed as I was, when I first began working with him. Holmes’s dedication and perseverance towards his work has become more intense as these years went by which has helped him to improve his understanding of the dense human mind to such an extent that it is impossible for anything to go by without catching his eye. Though within all these years, Holmes has not been asked, until now, to investigate into a situation, which involves the death of his own friend, Mr. Delson.

Sitting on his usual spot near the fire, with his pipe dangling from his mouth, Holmes sunk back into his seat and spoke to me about the recent events that took place yesterday evening, while waiting for the expected client, Miss Delson.

‘My dear fellow, after the death of Mr. Delson yesterday evening, the chaos that has built up was surely sudden and within the next week or so, his company will close down,’ jabbered my partner, whereas, I just sat and listened to the talk he had to say, not actually understanding the point of the conversation.

Never had I seen my partner in such a distraught state, and as I was unable to do anything to lessen the agitation visible in my partners face, I was left feeling guilty. While I was thinking of a way to bring back the enthusiasm in my partner, the doorbell rang. Knowing that it was Miss Delson, Holmes sat up straight and eyed me to open the door. I headed towards the door; while Holmes tried to attain a proper image by straightening up his khaki coat and he shoved his pipe into one of his pockets.

To the other side of the door, stood a lady, dressed heavily in a brown knee-length coat on top of a black corduroy skirt. In an attempt to keep herself warm against the blowing wind of December, she had her hands, concealed within black gloves, shoved into the pockets of her coat. Wearing a red scarf on her neck, as I observed the mismatched choice of attire the lady wore; I presumed that either she was in a hurry to reach here or it was her preoccupied state due to her stepfathers’ death. Keeping my presumptions to myself, I hand gestured her towards the sofa that was propped near the fire and she nodded, stepped inside the apartment and positioned herself on the sofa.

‘Good morning Mr. Holmes,’ voiced Miss Delson after great hesitation, ‘I hope I have not interrupted you during a time like this but this was slightly urgent, as I am very eager to reveal the true murderer of my father, knowing it was said to be a suicide attempt that succeeded, which, to me, seems highly improbable. I have come here in hopes for you to discover the truth behind the crime scene, since I feel as if I may be the next victim.’

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‘I am as keen as you are, to figure out who the murderer of your father is, and want to get started straight away, though this is going to be a slow process, I, along with my partner, are going to get to the end of this situation, with your help,’ replied my partner sympathetically, but with such confidence, that Miss Delson was left startled.

‘Thank you for your consideration Mr. Holmes,’ responded Miss Delson.

After a reviving cup of coffee, Miss Delson, also called Helen by Holmes, began to describe the crime scene that ...

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