The Adventure of the Gold-Engraved Box - Part 1

One of the most memorable cases with which my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, was associated during the time I lived with him in our Baker Street flat was a most singular case; brought to him by our landlady, Mrs. Hudson.

It was a cold a dreary morning. Fog had settled once more over the streets of London. All was quiet, and had been for weeks. It was one of those long and rare periods of inactivity which I have found to be most dangerous for my friend, Sherlock Holmes. More than once his eye wandered to the drawer of the desk where his vile drug was kept. I hoped and prayed for some form of activity to draw his overactive mind from the fact that there was nothing to do.

I myself was quite enjoying the tranquility. I took advantage of the peace to work on the narratives of my friend's last case, which I had begun some days before. I was occupied in this when I heard Holmes rise from his armchair and begin to shuffle about the room.

A sense of dread overcame me, and I turned to see Holmes, his forehead pressed against the window, pound his fist against it. I rose, relief flooding through me. He hadn't been after the drug as I had thought.

"Holmes," I began, but stopped. It would be useless to convince him to calm down. It was better to let him vent his frustration. I resumed my place at the writing desk and retrieved my pen.

Then I heard his pacing once more, and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"This really won't do, Watson." Holmes turned and stalked to the other side of the room. I turned to face him as he continued his rant. "This infernal blanket of fog prevents anything out of the ordinary from occurring. The detectives at Scotland Yard retreat to their homes while criminals roam about, eluding even the slightest bit of observance by the common individual. It's dangerous, Watson, dangerous!"

During this speech Holmes had returned to his armchair and had stretched his feet to the fire. I retrieved the morning paper from the pile on the floor and began scanning the columns in an endeavor to cheer my friend.

"Our friend, Lestrade, seems to have been called in on a case several times this week," I remarked thoughtfully, noting three or four different mentions of his name. Holmes snorted disapprovingly.

"They were but trifles. The theft of a china plate from Betram's Hotel; the theft and return of Miss Emily Cole's purse; and the death of Mr. Jack Bromsby, who, I have reason to believe, was not murdered but committed suicide," came the reply.

I turned in amazement to look at my friend, who was smoking a cigarette with his back to me.

"But how did you..." I began in wonderment.

"My dear Watson," Holmes began, turning to face me. I saw an amused smile playing across the corner of his mouth as he witnessed my puzzlement. "I simply noticed the paper lying on the floor this morning during breakfast, and took the liberty of reading a few columns." He turned back to the fire and resumed smoking.

I shook my head, grinning. Holmes always enjoyed seeing me puzzle over some ovbious detail that I had missed. I chuckled and resumed my reading.

Holmes broke the silence. "I do wonder why Mrs. Hudson is on her way up at this time of the morning?"

I realized that my friend's keener senses had heard the landlady coming up the stairs long before my own. "I haven't the slightest idea," I remarked, turning back to my paper.

A few moments later Mrs. Hudson did indeed enter the room. I rose to greet her and noted that she appeared rather confused.

"Why, Mrs. Hudson!" Holmes began, his gaze never straying from the fire. "It is not custom for you to come to our rooms this time of day. What is it?"

I motioned for the landlady to seat herself facing Holmes' armchair. Holmes turned and flashed a small smile at her, then resumed his staring at the fire.

Mrs. Hudson began by saying, "I do hope I'm not bothering you..."

Holmes chuckled. Bothering me? Ha! As if anyone could bother me when life itself is monotonous!" He resumed his serious expression. "Pray tell what is on your mind. You did not sleep well last night. Something is plaguing you."

The landlady was by now accustomed to Holmes' quick deductions, and this simple one had no effect on her composure. She held up a small, white piece of paper with large writing on it. Holmes leaned forward, took the paper, and examined it thoroughly. It read:

"Bring the wedding gift you recieved from M. Baylor to Hyde Park to-morrow. The bench near the tallest elm."

"Interesting message. No signature. Only a fragment of another piece of paper." He held it up to the light. "No watermark. The message is printed. Does this suggest anything to you, Watson?"

Holmes finished his observations and passed the paper to me.

Looking it over, I replied, "He or she wished to conceal his or her handwriting."

"Brilliant, Watson! Only notice the color and thickness of the letters. A man wrote this. A strong man with large hands, as he was pressing hard, but not intentionally. It is his natural way of writing."

I smiled at Holmes' praise and returned the note to him. He tossed it aside.

"I do believe we've deduced all we can from this note, Watson. Go on, Mrs. Hudson."

"I am very confused, Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson stated, clasping her hands on her lap. "I don't even have the gift anymore, and I really have no idea who might want such a thing."

Sherlock Holmes looked rather impatient. "The item in question being...?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry," the landlady stammered. "It is a small box, but it's not really a box. I never could figure out how to open it."

"Anything on the outside worth noting?"

Mrs. Hudson thought for a moment. "Not that I can think. There were some gold-colored engravings on it, in the shapes of flowers and leaves. It was very pretty as a decoration, but I pawned it off, along with anything else that was useless to me, over five years ago."

During this narrative my friend's eyes began to shine. I knew he sensed something remarkable about the little mystery presented to us by the landlady, though I couldn't see what. He leaned forward, putting his fingertips together and his elbows on his knees.

"And who is this M. Baylor?"

"Oh, just an old friend of my family, Margaret Baylor. She lived in Derbyshire with her large family, but passed on a few years ago."

Holmes nodded and reached for his pipe. He smoked thoughtfully for a few moments. "Was this box of any value?"

Mrs. Hudson closed her eyes. "I do remember wondering if the box was solid gold, but it's weight proved otherwise. I took it to the jeweler on Twenty-Fourth Street before I sold it, and he told me it was not worth even a shilling."

Holmes leaned back in his chair. I was confused.

"But surely it must be of some value? It appears that it is not as valuable as the author of this note makes it seem," I stated.

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "That is why I've come to you, Mr. Holmes. I would, if I still had the box, have given it away without a thought. But I'm rather curious as to why anyone would want it, seeming as it is not worth anything."

Holmes leaned forward thoughtfully. "But that the author of the note should send a message rather than approach you himself. That is of the utmost importance."

I must admit, I was not following my friend's chain of thought. Glancing at Mrs. Hudson I could see she wasn't either. She was watching the detective, who was again smoking and staring at the fire.

"How did you acquire the note?" He inquired, without a glance upward.

Mrs. Hudson didn't seem to see the significance of the question. The confused look returned to her face. "Why, Billy the page brought it to me last evening."

Holmes turned to me. "Watson, send for Billy immediatly."

Upon my return with the page, I found Holmes, pacing the room in his dressing gown. Mrs. Hudson had gone.

Holmes stopped when he noticed the boy, standing in the doorway looking very puzzled.

"Mr. Holmes," the lad said politely.

Holmes nodded. "Billy, the note you gave Mrs. Hudson; how came it to be in your possession?"

He returned to his armchair and motioned for the lad to sit. The boy shook his head and remained standing in the doorway.

"Sir, the message was attached to the front door yesterday evening. I saw it was addressed to your landlady, so I removed it and knocked on the door. I didn't think she had seen it so I jus' gave it straight to her and left." During this speech Billy had removed his messenger's cap and was wringing it nervously in his hands. "Am I in some kind of trouble, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes was once again staring into the fire. I assumed he had no intention of answering the boy's question, if he had even heard it. I put my hand on Billy's shoulder.
"Of course not, Billy. You've done nothing wrong."

The lad relaxed and placed his cap back on his head. "Will that be all, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes grunted from the chair. I thanked Billy softly and he nodded, then returned to his duties. I closed the door when he had gone.

"We seem to be traveling in confounded circles!" Holmes cried, shaking his pipe at the fireplace.

"What else did you learn from Mrs. Hudson?" I inquired, seating myself in the chair opposite my friend.

"Only the name of the pawn shop to which the box was sold," said he. Rising, he went into his bedroom. "I'll be going out, Watson. I suggest you go and examine Hyde Park. Find the bench near the elm that the note refers to."

I rose, confused. I didn't understand why my friend was dispatching me on a seemingly pointless errand. I knew it was useless to question him, though. Holmes always had a reason for everything he said or did.

"Anything else I should be looking for?" I asked, removing my coat and hat from the stand.

"You will know when you see it, Watson," came the reply from behind the closed door.

Shaking my head, I began my long walk to Hyde Park, all the while trying to understand Holmes' reasoning. When nothing came to mind, I gave up and continued on, paying close attention to everything in my path so as not to become lost in the fog.

Holmes has a reason for everything, I concluded. I'll trust that he knows what he is doing.

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Hope you enjoyed part one of my story :D Please feel free to comment at will and check back often for the rest of it!