Sherlock Holmes- The Night Before Christmas

3

We exited the room of the late Mr. Michael, and were directed to the room of the man's brother-in-law, and suspected killer, by the mans' orphaned son. Upon entering the room, I could instantly tell that it was the room of a very well paid man. Red velvet lined everywhere, and soft red and gold wallpaper enclosed the room. It was spacious, with two main sections, divided by a curtain which could be drawn along the middle. One side, the side upon which one would enter when walking through the door, had a large writing desk, with a single, red velvet covered, throne like, chair on the side from which one would write, with two simpler, wooden chairs facing from opposite. There was a tall and wide wooden bookshelf in the back left corner, furthest from the door, in the middle of the opposite side, but slightly to the right. I stood by the door as Sherlock walked in, and began to examine the desk, which meant simply staring at the top of it for a while, and then sifting through the papers on the top, inspecting items and the like. Then he turned to me, a small silvery object in hand. I walked up to him, unsure of what it was.

'It seems to be a small earring; I shall need to check with Mrs Galton if she has any of these, however I may just need to know her room. Check in the wardrobe for a shirt with any blood on it.' With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, for the room of its owners' wife.

As it turned out, there was a shirt, right at the back, crumpled as though hastily shoved there. I pulled it out of the wardrobe, and just as I did so, Sherlock came back in. I held the shirt out in front of me, and he grinned.

'I think we've earned a break' he smiled, and slowly walked into the room. I smiled back, and placed the shirt carefully on the desk. And then Mr Galton stormed in.

'What are you doing in here, this is my private room!'

'Nothing now. But we were finding evidence.' Sherlock spoke with a slight psychotic smile in his voice.

'You know nothing, now get out of my room. The police are here, you know.'

'I know that. I also happen to be aquatinted with Detective Officer Lestrade, who is running the team here.'

He smiled once more, tilting his head right, with a jerking movement, that I knew came with a threatening and psychotic smile.

'Well, you still know nothing.'

The man seemed awfully self-assured; he obviously didn't know who he was dealing with.

'Incorrect. I know you work at a bank, which you have stolen from several times. I know that your bank is going bankrupt, and you want to get up and leave before anyone found out about your little "borrowings". I know that you fell apart from your wife when you realised she was barren, I know that your childhood sweetheart, who abandoned you aged seventeen, no, eighteen, is back in town, and you have been secretly meeting up. I know she wants you to leave with her, and that you are wanting to. I know that you killed your brother-in-law, as he found out about this little game and threatened to tell your wife. I know that you tried to hide this' he held up a signet ring, encrusted with blood, 'from the police. You succeeded. I am not the police. I do not work for them. I just happen to be on their side. I know that you were wearing this ring last night when Mr Michael found out about your affair, and you beat him to death, albeit with a single blow. You have a powerful punch, Mr Galton. Did you know to punch there? Or did you simply hit there by fluke? Did you mean to kill him? Or just mean to show him who was in charge? I know you are now going to threaten me with the same fate as Elias, however, I also know who would win. You may have the brawn, but I know every move you are going to do, before you even decide to. I know the outcome of this. A sister, her brother dead, left to look after her dead brothers' children on her own, maybe with the butler that she has secretly been having her own affair with; Fredrick was it, her husband locked up in jail, for committing a murder. You could argue manslaughter, but I wish you luck with that. I know that I will win. I knew all about you, you told me who you were, you told me what you did, and you told me why. All without saying a word. People are so easy to read, I wish someday someone would give me a challenge. Now, if you'll excuse me, my companion and I need to pay a visit to the Detective Inspector. Don't try to run, I know where you'll go. Good day, and a merry Christmas.

Sherlock definitely had a thing for exits, as he turned on his heels and left with a flourish. I hurried after him, allowing myself a smirk at the glowing face of Mr Galton.

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