Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 264 The Real Sherlock Holmes! (Bonus Chapter for 1000 Votes)

In late July, the morning air in Edinburgh already carried a chilly feel from the North Sea.

In a waiting room at Wivale Station, a few early risers sat sparsely.

Dr. Joseph Bell sat upright on a bench near the window, reading a medical journal.

He had just finished an academic exchange at the Royal Glasgow College of Medicine and was preparing to return to the University of Edinburgh, his hat and duffel bag on the chair.

Not far from him, a middle-aged man in a wool coat was flipping through a copy of last night's The Scotsman.

Below the front page of the newspaper, a headline with a bold border caught his attention: "Hopton Manor Mystery: Collector Dies in Study, Police Offer 30-Pound Reward for Clues..."

Wow, thirty pounds!

The whisper broke the silence of the waiting room.

A well-dressed gentleman next to him adjusted his glasses: "It's that case that happened in Inverness, it's been in the newspapers for days."

I heard that the people sent by Scotland Yard didn't find anything wrong either.

Another voice chimed in: "It's not just that they haven't found anything, it's downright incompetence! They've been dead for almost a week, and they still can't even figure out if the killer is male or female!"

The speaker was a burly man, his tone laced with disdain.

The middle-aged man defended the police, saying, "We can't blame the police entirely. The report said there were too few clues at the scene, and the doors and windows were locked from the inside."

Sigh, the newspaper also said that an artist drew a sketch of the scene based on the police's description, but unfortunately it came out dark and blurry, and you couldn't make out anything.

The refined gentleman frowned: "Wouldn't that make things even more difficult? I'm afraid only..."

He paused, then said in a half-joking tone, "I'm afraid only Sherlock Holmes could solve this case!"

Upon hearing this, a few soft laughs rippled through the waiting room.

Clearly, the name "Sherlock Holmes" is no longer limited to literary circles.

The middle-aged man sighed: "It's a pity that Sherlock Holmes is just a fictional character. The Frenchman who wrote the novel was quite clever to create such a character."

He spread the newspaper on his lap and pointed to the blurry scene sketch: "The printing quality of newspapers is getting worse and worse these days..."

The burly man snorted: "Fiction? I heard from my cousin who runs a business in London that it's all over there now, saying that there really was such a person on Baker Street!"

Many people have personally witnessed the figure wearing the deerstalker hat!

The gentleman lowered his voice: "It's not just a possibility, it's a fact! The Trivia Newspaper even found the 'crime scene'!"

Right here in Brixton! The blood-written words on the wall are exactly the same as those in the book! Scotland Yard has the whole place sealed off!

"Ha—" A sneer came from the corner.

A scholarly-looking man raised his head, his tone full of sarcasm: "What deductive reasoning? It's all nonsense from novelists. Such a person hasn't even been born yet."

Real-world crimes are dirty, chaotic, and illogical—far from the intricate details depicted in books. It's the norm that the police can't solve cases.

As soon as he finished speaking, Dr. Joseph Bell, who had been quietly reading, closed the journal in his hand.

He looked up at the middle-aged man holding the newspaper: "Sir, excuse me, could I borrow your newspaper to take a look?"

The middle-aged man paused for a moment, then subconsciously responded, handing over the newspaper: "Oh, okay, please."

Dr. Joseph Bell took the newspaper, thanked him, and his gaze fell on the article about the "Hopton Manor Mystery".

The incident occurred at a country house called Hopeton House near Edinburgh.

The deceased was the owner of the estate, an elderly but renowned antique collector, Mr. Alexander Graham.

The report stated that Mr. Graham was found dead in his study with severe neck injuries, signs of a struggle at the scene, and some valuable antique items missing.

After several days of fruitless investigation, the police published a brief summary of the case and a scene sketch, offering a £30 reward for information leading to the arrest of the perpetrators.

Next to the reward notice was the sketch. The sketch was indeed rough, but the basic layout and a few key details were clearly visible:

A spacious study with rows of bookshelves, and a large desk overturned on the floor in the middle, with papers and books scattered all over the place.

On the carpet in front of the fireplace in the distance, there was a human figure lying on the ground.

Most noticeably, several items were scattered near the human-shaped outline—

A shattered ceramic vase, an open thick book, and a piece of what looks like a broken plant branch.

After reading the brief case description, his gaze lingered for a long time on the so-called "scene sketch" next to him.

Within a minute or two, Dr. Bell put down the newspaper, took off his glasses, and gently wiped them with a piece of velvet cloth.

After a while, he seemed to mutter to himself, "The murderer is the gardener in the victim's house."

The words weren't spoken loudly, but they caused the other passengers to all turn to look at Dr. Bell, their faces filled with astonishment.

The "scholar" was the first to react, letting out a cold laugh: "Ha! Another one! Sir, did you just return from London?"
"Imitate Sherlock Holmes? That's the latest fashion there!"

The middle-aged man and the respectable gentleman also looked puzzled, while the burly man had a "let's see what other tricks you can come up with" expression.

Dr. Joseph Bell did not get angry; he simply put on his glasses and calmly swept his gaze over the crowd.

He said calmly, "This is neither fashionable nor imitative; it's just a simple deduction based on observation and logic."

He pointed to the newspaper: "First, look at the identity of the deceased and the scene. Mr. Graham was an antique collector, and the furnishings in his study were all very valuable."

But scattered around the overturned desk, besides books and papers, was only a vase and a common book.

The report mentions the loss of 'small antiques,' indicating that the murderer had a clear target: valuable, easily portable small items.

A thief, if he is an outsider and unexpectedly encounters the owner, and a struggle ensues, he will inevitably panic and want to escape as quickly as possible…

Dr. Joseph Bell's voice was not loud, but every word was clear and powerful, carrying an undeniable force, gradually guiding everyone to unravel the case.

After a while, he gathered all the clues together and began to summarize:

"A person who is familiar with the inside story and knows which small antiques are valuable;

A type of plant branch that only appears in gardens and will never be planted indoors;
A profession that can be legitimately present inside or outside a mansion without arousing excessive suspicion.
……

Based on these clues, the gardener is the prime suspect.

Dr. Joseph Bell looked up and scanned the crowd as he said this: "Give the above doubts to any rural sheriff and he could apply for a search warrant."

"A thirty-pound reward. If you want to earn it, take the next bus to Inverness now."

The waiting room was silent. The people who had been arguing earlier were all dumbfounded.

The middle-aged man held the newspaper, comparing it to the sketch, and muttered, "My God... now that you mention it... it seems... it seems to be true!"

The "scholar" who had previously mocked him gaped in disbelief.

The others stared blankly at Dr. Bell, their minds still filled with the reasoning they had just gleaned, unable to process what had just happened.

Just then, the sound of a train whistle arriving at the station broke the silence.

The refined gentleman, regaining his composure, exclaimed in amazement, "My God... sir, you... you are as omnipotent as Sherlock Holmes..."

Dr. Joseph Bell stood up, straightened his coat, put on his hat, and walked toward the door.

As he passed the still-shocked passengers, he casually remarked, "No, gentlemen, I am the real Sherlock Holmes."

Dr. Joseph Bell disappeared behind the door of the waiting room, and a newsboy slipped in:
"Gentlemen, the late July issue of *Good Words* features the latest serialization of *A Study in Scarlet*! Would you like a copy?"

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(End of this chapter)