“It’s supposed to be old. I intend todecorate this room to look like the one I saw in London, SherlockHolmes’s sitting room.”
“Mrs. Reynolds says you think you’re hisgreat-granddaughter.”
So Tessa had been gossiping about me already.Writers often talk too much. She even writes book-length letters tonewspaper editors.
“I know you and Tessa—excuse me, I mean Mrs.Reynolds—are good friends because you help her all the time, andyou can believe her. How do you think I got my name? She knows I’ma descendant.”
“But your mother, who comes to visit Mrs.Reynolds sometimes, said you were an orphan and she adoptedyou.”
“Of course she did, but she knew who my realgreat grandparents were, so she named me Sheridan Holmes.”
“She told me she simply obeyed a last-minutewhim.”
“You mustn’t believe everything shesays. She changes her mind depending on what film she’s involvedin. I love my mother, but I sometimes think she’s a Dr. Philprogram waiting to happen.”
“So giving you the name makes you adescendant of Holmes?”
“There’s more. I have a mind just like his,and I’m going to be the next great detective.”
He gave a short laugh and winked. “I’ve readthose stories too, you know. Just because I work with my handsdoesn’t mean I haven’t read a book or two. When those stories werepublished everyone considered Sherlock Holmes the greatestdetective of all time. No one, not that Hercule Poirot or—sinceyou’re a woman—Miss Marple, could touch him.”
“I agree with you, but, since I have hisgenes, it’s possible I have some of his ability for detecting aswell. And, when I’m older, study forensics, and learn more aboutspecialized things like poisons and tobacco ash, I might be asgood.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, learning about tobacco ashwill come in handy.”
“I was just making a point. You know what Imean.”
Watson grinned but didn’t go back tounpacking the box. Instead he gave me a quizzical look and crossedhis arms over his chest. “So, you’re a good detective, are you?Good at observing and analyzing?”
“I like to think so.”
“Okay, tell me about me. Like Holmes alwaysdid with strangers who came to him.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms too and slowlywalked around Doc where he stood between the fireplace and thesofa. I couldn’t help noticing his taut muscles and broadshoulders, but I stuck with a more professional assessment.
“First of all, before you saw me and helpedwith my box, you were doing some gardening in that small plot ofweeds they call a backyard behind the house.”
He glanced down at his shoes. “I scraped thedirt off before I came inside.”
“Not quite all.” I pointed to a bit of mud onthe edge of his right shoe. “Furthermore, you’ve been trimming theazalea bushes because there are bits of leaves stuck to yoursweater.” I picked off a tiny green one and showed it to him. “Uphere on your shoulder where apparently you couldn’t quite see tobrush it off.”
“What else?”
“The bulges in your sweater, there at yourwaist, indicate you have some tools—plumbing tools perhaps—in aleather belt.”
He nodded. “Very good. What else do you knowabout me, something your granny didn’t tell you, I mean.”
“Well, you’re an educated man. Your speechand the fact that you’ve read a lot, means you haven’t been alaborer forever.”
He laughed. “Well, I already told you thatmuch, didn’t I?”
“True, but I’ll go even further. You askedwhere I wanted you to place the bust. Not many ordinary Americanswould recognize it as Napoleon. I think you were once aschoolteacher. In fact, your manner suggests you were a high schoolor even a junior college teacher. Why did you give it up?”
He chuckled. “You win. I was a teacher.”
I’m afraid I gloated a bit.
“The answer to your question might not bewhat you expect. Teachers still don’t get paid what they’re worth,but money isn’t important to me. I could afford to wine and dinepretty ladies with the salary they paid me.” He gave me a look thatsaid I might be next on his “pretty-lady” list.
“However, I wanted to be my own boss, so Igave it up and started work as a janitor.”
“Yet, you’re not a janitor now. Tessa saysyou do lots more than that. She says you do all kinds of work forher and the other owners of the old Victorians in thisneighborhood.”
He looked surprised. “Did she tell youthat?”
“Yes, but you wanted me to tell you what I’vededuced about you, and I’ve decided you’re an entrepreneur. Youstarted your own business and signed up many landlords in thearea.”
“You think I’m an entrepreneur, do you?”
“Yes, because the breast pocket of your shirtcontains a small supply of what are probably business cards.”
He patted his pocket. “Okay, you areobservant, but good enough to call yourself a consultingdetective?”
“No, not that.” I moved to the large desk inthe corner, pulled out my sign and handed it to him. White, withblack letters in a nineteenth century font, it was ten inches bytwo inches. “Here’s my sign. I want you to install it in thevestibule downstairs, next to my name.”
He read what I’d printed on the sign outloud. “‘S. Holmes, Private Investigations.’ How can you do that?Don’t you have to get a license or something? You’ll needsome credentials.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get them. I plan to go tothe police academy and work my way up to detective. Maybe even geta job with a private eye. I have to work some place anyway.Clerking in the bakery doesn’t pay very well, and, besides, I’d geta couple of years’ practice first.”
Watson gave me another skeptical look, so Iwent on. “I’ll do whatever I have to, but becoming a cop orassistant private eye takes so long. I thought I’d try to establishmyself first, maybe get a head start with the sign. Advertising isso important, and, since I need a sign anyway, it doesn’t costanything.”
“So long? Why are you in such a hurry? Whatare you anyway, twenty-two? Didn’t you just graduate fromcollege?”
“That was three years ago and I’m twenty-fivenow. I don’t want to wait until I’m as old as Sherlock Holmes.”
“So, you’re one of those modern girls whowant everything fast, faster or ten minutes ago.”
“I have a motto, ‘The things that come tothose who wait are
