Sherlock Holmes and The Adventure of the Ruby Elephants by Christopher James Read Free Book Online Page B

final phrase in each bar. She also has a slight injury to her right hand.’
    â€˜Remarkable,’ I said, ‘although I am only sorry we have no way of discovering the accuracy of your speculations.’
    â€˜Nonsense,’ said Holmes, collecting his hat and cane from the stand. ‘We should pay her a visit this very instant.’
    Holmes hurried me along Baker Street at an uncomfortable pace, somewhere between a march and a light jog. This was customary when he was seized with an idea. His legs seemed to span continents with each stride. He appeared to be counting flagstones with his cane and presently began to slow down. Finally he stopped in front a dark green door, and delivered two loud raps with the end of his cane. A bonneted servant with a ruddy complexion appeared in the doorway.
    â€˜Ms Penelope Braithwaite please,’ declared Holmes, ‘handing over his card. ‘Mr Sherlock Holmes and his associate Dr Watson at her disposal.’
    â€˜Astonishing’ I said.
    â€˜A simple mathematical calculation based on sound, speed and distance,’ he explained, suddenly distracted by the haphazard flight of a bumble bee inspecting the flower in the window box. ‘Were you aware, Watson,’ he said, breaking off and continuing to inspect the insect, ‘that a honey bee’s wings beat some 200 times a second? This is what produces that pleasing buzzing sound.’
    I smiled at my friend. ‘And I believed they were simply of a musical disposition.’
    â€˜Perfectly inaccurate,’ Holmes dismissed as we were finally granted admission.
    We were led up a staircase of dark wood carved in the old fashioned style, with a set of amateur watercolours depicting scenes from rural India hung at intervals along the wall. On the third floor we were shown to an elegant parlour. The rooms were decorated in a tasteful, eastern style. A low table was set with a plain vase containing a single orchid; a white upright piano rested against the far wall.
    â€˜The two gentlemen to see you,’ the housekeeper said, before pulling shut the double doors behind her. Miss Braithwaite was an attractive woman of thirty, with a tangle of strawberry blonde hair and a short pretty nose. By far the most unusual aspect of her appearance, however, was the fact that she was wrapped in a sari of startling turquoise blue. She held both her violin and bow in her left hand and waited, with an expression of vague ennui, for an explanation of our interruption. My friend took the lead.
    â€˜Please accept our apologies,’ Holmes began, ‘but my friend and I have a private detective practice on Baker Street, not one hundred yards from your address.’
    â€˜Mr Holmes,’ she interjected, ‘your fame precedes you. You will credit me firstly with being able to read and secondly a familiarity with the pages of the London press. You are rarely away from them.’
    â€˜Quite,’ said Holmes. He paused while he joined his fingers and gathered his thoughts, perhaps unused to an interruption of this nature. ‘I do wish I were here under happier circumstances. However, as I explained, and as you appear to be aware, I am concerned with cases of the most delicate and difficult nature. These are invariably problems that require concentration of the most intense kind. I sometimes even find it necessary to ask my friend Watson here to refrain from speaking for certain periods. Miss Braithwaite, I will be plain. Your musical practice is a distraction of the most unwelcome nature.’
    The woman appeared flabbergasted. ‘I am a student of the great Ignatius Wimpole. I am perhaps one of only three violinists of serious note in the whole of London and you appear to be suggesting that I should refrain from practising during daylight hours so you can sit in your armchair and think of ways to increase your wealth and fame. Mr Holmes, I am minded to call an officer of the law and have you