from Sherlock Holmes Esq to Dr J Watson:

Dear Watson,
I trust you made provision to take adequate notes last evening since I, as you no doubt observed, ingratiated myself rather excessively into Wheatley’s household. Or put another way – I drank too deeply at the well.

Mrs Hudson has, as expected, taken me to task at my lack of discipline, however, the good-hearted soul that she is has had me laid up in bed all day with a cold compress and some foul-smelling liquid she assures me is vegetable soup. My migraine is still throbbing away, so I hope you will not think me overly demanding if I beg that you write up your notes and let me have them as soon as possible.

Incidentally, I seem to have acquired a pair of our host’s sandals – quite how they might have been secreted about my person, I cannot imagine. however, one of these items bears a strange inscription on the soul: the single word ‘Sizeten.’ It may be a clue, or it may not. Discount nothing, Watson. Nothing.

I believe Mr Wheatley may be in danger from this Sizeten fellow, whoever he is, so please go with him this evening if he insists (as I suspect he will) on visiting his ailing sister in Carlisle Square.

I shall see you anon, migraine permitting,

Holmes.