N.B: A general parody of Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes series. I'm not even close to his shoe's level but, just wanted to give it a try as a fan. In this parody, Jhonlock is equivalent to Sherlock, Sherlson is equivalent to Watson. Decided to keep Mycoft and Moriarty unchanged.
The case of the GrassYard Café :
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. It's Autumn alright, the season of letting go. But in my case, it brought an end to my long wait for a vacation I was so desperate for. Of course, there was a reason for my being so mad. I was wild to meet my dearest friend.
Describing my friend's abilities with a pen and paper is an impossible task for me. I've always struggled to keep pace with his melodic methods and sheer intelligence but still, never let down any chance to witness his charishma. But my luck wasn't that good as I got transferred to another district soon after marriage. Of course, marriage wasn't enough to hold me back from the honey of wisdom my fellow pal always offered me.
Since the day I was transferred, I had been looking for a chance to meet my dear friend Johnlock Wats. Yesterday, the chance had finally come.
It was only a 20-minute walk from the station to reach his apartment in B122 hocker street.
I could have enjoyed the crisp fall air and the fiery trees around me by taking a walk, but decided to take a cab being unable to check my intense ambition to meet him.
"Too many passengers, sir. You have to share."
"No problem, anyone would do as long as he wants to go somewhere near the hocker street."
"Oh, then you are in luck. There's already one waiting inside that one." He pointed his index finger towards an old looking cab, scratches, and stains all over the steel cage.
"That will do." I was desperate to see him. So, that kind of thing didn't even compete as a disturbance.
I settled down myself beside my travel companion, an old man with a bushy white beard, bent forward as a result of age. Couldn't say for sure but it was obvious at least 3 layers of clothing were wrapped around him.
I was looking outside from the window as soon as the cab started to move. As the temperature dropped to the tune of leaves falling, autumn was illustrating the beauty of letting go. But I wasn't interested in it. "Oh my dear, Sherlson." A familiar voice startled me to my limit. I looked at my companion, The old man beside me got back the fire in his eyes. His spine straightened, all the wrinkles are long gone from his tanned face.
"Jhonlock, You!" It was the exact person I was so mad to visit.
He chuckled, "It appears that you are stunned as always, yeah, Dr? Nevermind. Why did you choose 'Amanda express' over 'Rose express'?"
"How in the world you know that?" It was true. I always preferred to travel on the trains of the Rose express. But in this particular case, I chose to go with Amanda express. I couldn't find a way how he could know that.
My companion giggled." I didn't know, Sherlson. I deduced. The thing itself is, absurdly simple."
I insisted, " Please tell me, the method, if a method there is, how you could guess that?"
"Explanation is always tougher than realization. I know you always prefer to take a window seat. It wasn't altered in this case to-day. And more specifically, you took a window seat from the right row of that specific train."
"Yes, It was just as you described, but I don't see any connection."
"That's because you don't observe. It's only human nature to peek from the window of any transport they are in. You naturally placed your right hand on the window without even realizing it. There IS a connection, dear Sherlson. If you observe the right sleeve of your black cotton shirt closely, there are some stamens of 'Autumn Hawkbit' stuck in the right corner. It's only the slightest bit of it, but you know, I've done much research on stamens of flowers, so I'm not wrong."
I looked at the sleeve and found his ever right observations to be correct once again. "But I still can't see any connection."
"Ask yourself, why the stamens stuck in your sleeve?"
"The train window?"
"Exactly. And where did it come from? Certainly from an area rich with that particular flower species within the route of that particular train. There are only five railway transport agencies working on joining your district to mine. And if you've done your homework, you should know, the Rose express route doesn't cover any such area. According to the data I have, only Amanda express' route agrees with our conditions. So, Amanda expresses it is!" Childlike pride bloomed in his over-expressive face.
"Wow. I didn't see any of that coming. By the way, what are you doing here with this kind of disguise?"
"Waiting for the cabman to take me to the heart of all mysteries, one of my born enemies."
"So you are in the middle of something."
"Indeed. At times like this, I never regret a collaborator, especially you, Sherlson. If you have any energy and time to spare, you're welcome to join me in this bizarre adventure."
"What's the case?" I was already agreed, in fact, I was born agreed to go on an adventure with this fellow 'candle of wisdom'.
"This one is nothing but a tiny-simple puzzle. It seems to be ridiculously obvious but still, there is no string to pull. I, at once deduced 'how', but couldn't find any 'why' in this particular Riddle."
"And what might that be?"
He looked directly in my eyes," Mr. Garrison. An average unmarried government employee went to the GrassYard cafe to enjoy some Autumn drinks with his fiance. And guess what? She died. The police started the investigation only to find she was poisoned. Until then, it was pretty normal. But the next findings startled them to bits. The 'pumpkin spice iced coffee' was poisoned. But the problem was poison strain was found in both servings. But mysteriously, Mr. Garrison wasn't affected."
"Certainly he didn't drink that."
"No, you're at fault. He did drink the coffee."
"How in the world that's possible! So, who was the culprit?"
"The police have imprisoned the bar owner and staff. Though they don't have the slightest clue."
"And, what about you? You can make something out from it?"
"Just as I said. I know what happened. But don't know 'why'. And I'm in this peculiar form only to find that 'why'. You know where are we going now?"
I moved my head, "No. Where?"
"To the magistrate office."
My eyes almost popped out of its sockets, "The magistrate office!"
"Quite so. There, we'll receive the key information to pin the king piece."
"And....." I couldn't finish my sentence as I looked up at my dear friend, already switched to his typical thinking posture; eyes vacant, looking upwards, mouth slightly opened, a mysterious shadow playing upon his passive face. I was his only friend but still didn't have the might to disturb him in this situation, as I had only one head on my shoulder. ( meaning if he blows one up, I wouldn't have any more head to spare.)
Our cab continued and I continued to think over a question that arose in my mind but couldn't let it out. The office wasn't far. It didn't take more than 10 minutes.
By the time we were standing outside the office, a content smile was lying upon my companion's lips. Of course, he was again the 'old shrunken man' as soon as he descended from the cab. We were standing just outside the office when I saw a pickpocket entered his hand into my pal's pocket. I was about to say something but reassuring me with a knowing gaze, he went inside the office followed by me shortly. There wasn't much crowd, maybe one or two clients waiting, and one ongoing. We didn't sit close to each other as I didn't have any idea what's going on there.
Suddenly I saw the old man fall upon the floor with a terrible scream gathering crowd around him. Everyone in the room became busy with him instantly. "What happened! What happened!"
"It's maybe a cardiac arrest!"
"We must take him to the doctor."
I didn't know what to do, but I thought it to be one of his tricks. Many of the inside men along with me handled him outside the room to put him in a cab standing outside. Who will accompany the patient? I instantly declared myself as the candidate. Everyone was quite helping, but, they had their own business, so, no one argued much leaving me the only one with Mr. Jhonlock in the swiftly moving cab. Soon the unconscious man sat down perfectly normally with a melodically smiling face.
"So, it WAS one of your tricks."
"When did you attained the information?"
"Oh my dear, Sherlson. It wasn't me who secured the evidence. It was one of my faithful rats, one of the irregulars. I noticed you got quite startled by the pickpocket. He just provided me this." He dragged out a piece of paper from his pocket, holding the corner of it with his thin fingers.
"And what may that be."
"This the testimony of the authenticity of the hypothesis I was working on. Or, you can also say, this is the method of catching the 'smaller fish' of this mystery pond."
"Oh, can you clarify the matter for me?"
"No need for that. We're heading to the hotspot of mystery to solve the problem once and for all. Now my one last question. Did you recognize the cabman or not?"
"Very well. It's Mycroft and he is the person who secured the key evidence from the 'irregular''." I could only offer him an amused stare.
Now, the time has come for me to write about the method, the climax, the checkmate. My hands are shaking. How melodic! The method of his deduction was indeed extraordinary. I am getting the thrill only to think about it. It's unlikely for someone like me to ever be able to describe the method properly. But I'll try my best to underline.
We got into the cafe, Johnlock already disposed of his disguise, revealing his real human-calculator form. My friend told me about this cafe's being shut, but he requested the police to bring the bartender, Mr. Garrison, and other staff back to the spot. It seemed like the police abided by my pal's suggestions. We took a seat across Mr. Garrison.
"So, Mr. Wats, any progress?" Mr. Garrison asked, still grieving over his fiance's death.
Johnlock giggled, "Progress? We already reached our conclusion."
"So, who is the killer?"The officer standing by the table asked impatiently, scratching his reddish cheek harshly with his right hand.
"Mr. Garrison himself!"
"No, what?!" Garrison slammed his fist on the table rising from the chair.
"Pray sit down, Mr." My friend still calm as usual.
"Impossible! He drank juice too." The bartender pointed out trembling with shock
"But he didn't die, did he?" My friend spoke in his ever assured voice.
"You saw him drinking?" Jhonlock snapped before the bartender could finish his sentence.
"Yes, he finished his glass even before Mrs. Carl getting the chance to take her first sip."
He smirked, "That's why he is alive."
All of us still remained in the dark, unable to form any connection. I pinched my friend with a questioning gaze.
"What?"Oh, you still have no clue? The poison was in the ice! He drank the juice fast only because he knew it. Ice needs time to melt."
As always, he made everything explainable. The matter, at once revealed itself to be crystal clear to me, along with everyone standing there with dropped jaws.
"Mr. Wats. You can't just blame me like this. Do you have any proof?" It looked like Mr. Garrison was about to cry.
"Quite so. I think you happened to lose a very important paper today. Can you recognize this?" He dragged out the land record certificate, the cabman, or should I say, his brother, Mycoft gave him earlier.
"That's mine! What in the world!"
"Indeed. You knew Mrs. Carl didn't have any relations whatsoever. You didn't love her, you loved her property. That's why you secretly married her a week ago and killed her off to get a hold on the property."
"That doesn't make sense. You have nothing on me."
"Maybe. But he does." A fragile-looking boy entered the scene from the open front door. I could see some of the regular 'irregulars' behind him laughing hysterically.
"Sith!" The bar-owner exclaimed.
"Correct. Sith, the boy who supplies ice cubes to this cafe. Hey, now, Mr. Sith, do you recognize this coyote?" He pointed his thumb towards the shocked person, sitting across from us.
"Yes, he is the person who gave me the bucket of ice I delivered."
Mr. Garrison hurriedly stood up realizing the defeat but failed to run away, as he saw a steal-made handcuff wrapped around his wrists.
"Do you have anything to say?" My friend asked in a cold voice.
"Wait. Why Sith delivered the ice, he gave him. Why he didn't deliver from the factory as usual?" The bar owner asked.
In answer, my friend just smirked and fixed his gaze upon the questioner, "That's because he was bribed."
Hence, the case was closed.
At last, I got the chance to ask the question arose in my mind during our cab journey earlier.
"Yes, my dear, Sherlson."
"Why you didn't...."
"I understand. There is a reason for that." I don't know how, but somehow my dear fellow figured out what I intended to ask. I really wanted to know, why he needed Mycoft in a case like this? And why was he waiting in the cab in the first place? Is there still something in the dark?
I asked with some scared confusion, "Could it be?" My guess was correct.
His gaze became sharp, lips tightened, "Jim Moriarty."