From Dr Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:
December 14th continued…
After questioning several members of the household, I returned to my room to find the following note had been pushed under the door. How it got there is, at present, a mystery:
Watson – just a short note to let you know that, unbeknownst to me, the Ghillie to whom I entrusted my feverishly-scrawled scribbling is an immigrant from the Balkan States, whose command of the written word is rather poor; in consequence, he delivered said scribbling to, would you believe, our old friend Bob Stevenson, who happens to be staying at a place called “Littlemill” , situated not too far from here, on the Girnock Burn.
Rumours of ugly and sinister goings-on at Balmoral have drawn him by the nose, sensing a rollicking Ripping Yarn might come of it. I think the flurry of interest stirred up by his last preposterous Tale has gone to his head – that is bye the bye – I have to admit I was never as pleased to see his enthusiastic grin and twinkling eyes as met my own bleary set of ocular orbs and hear his drily-amused Edinburgh tongue pronounce the Time-honoured phrase, somewhat modified to suit this particular encounter – “Sherlock Holmes, I presume!”.
Your friend, somewhat relieved, SH.
