The Case of the Reed in the Breeze

Abstract

It was a dark November day, which at times would depress me, but my present surroundings raised my spirits. My wife, whom I dearly missed, had gone off for two weeks to visit her family in Dorset. My old regimental surgeon’s assistant, who served with me in Afghanistan and had just completed medical school, took over my practice for a few weeks. I had unexpectedly come into a few hundred pounds with an old investment so I could afford to pay a substitute. Holmes, on several occasions, had kindly asked me back to my old digs, so I took advantage of this respite and was now back with the welter of test tubes and notebooks, and with the noisome aroma of Holmes’ latest tobacco. I was brought out of my reverie by a sharp remark from Holmes, “Watson, I wouldn’t waste my money on that.” I never have become used to these intrusions on my thoughts. I sputtered, “On what should I not waste my money?” “On an expensive bespoke suit you have been thinking about contracting. It does not suit your image as a humble family practitioner.” “Really, Holmes, you infuriate me and amaze me at the same time. You must have spoken to my wife.” Holmes shook his head, “No, I did not, but the deduction was elementary. One, you told me you dined with Thompson a week ago. Two, Thompson has all his suits bespoke in Saville Row. Three, you told me that you recently had an unexpected windfall of a few hundred pounds. Four, I noted that you were gazing at your worn cuffs on your trousers. Hence, you decided to spend your money on a new, bespoke suit.” “My wife will be sorely disappointed if I do not,” I said. “That is a factor with …