Poetica Mundi

Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Baker Street

My heart raced as I approached Baker Street. The taxi turned a corner and I saw the white rectangle that read BAKER STREET. I was finally here. I stared in astonishment out of the window at the colossal houses that seemed to grow for miles. The white and brown brick, the black balcony railings that twisted and turned into a pretty pattern, the large, rectangle windows and the gates that opened to staircases that journeyed into the ground. And of course, the faded red canopy that read SPEEDY'S SANDWICH BAR AND CAFE. The taxi halted to a stop and I paid the taxi driver with spare change that I found in the bag that Luna gave me. I got out the cab and stood outside the black door of 221B Baker Street. I couldn't believe it. I'm at Baker Street! I'm actually at Baker Street! I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. Nothing. I knocked again. Nothing. Maybe he's not in. Just as I was about to leave, I heard gunshots coming from the house, followed by a shout which sounded like an elderly woman's voice. I began to panic, searching my jacket for my phone to ring the police with, when the door opened. There was a small man standing in the doorway with short, grey hair, a checked red and white shirt, green trousers and black shoes. I couldn't help but think that he seemed to resemble a hedgehog. 

"Oh John Watson, what have you been up to this time?" I laughed. 

"Sherlock's bored, it's getting a little heated. Erm, sorry, can I help you?" He asked, his eyebrows raised. 

"I've come to see Sherlock. I've been sent by Gandalf." 

"Ah. Come in." John stepped to the side and opened the door so that I could come in. I stepped through the door and bounced up the steep, dark stairway. I could hear the beautiful wail of a violin and as I climbed further up the stairs, it got much louder. I entered the living room and stopped a moment to take in my surroundings. The room was messy. There were bits of paper and books all over the floor, tables and chairs scattered around the room, empty shelves, a wonky mirror, chess pieces flung around and a sofa that was the only clear space. The walls were decorated with green, red and white patterned and black and white patterned wallpapers - and for some reason a yellow, spray painted smiley face in the middle of one wall.

In the middle of the room stood Sherlock Holmes. He was wearing a navy blue dressing gown and a shirt neatly tucked into his long, black trousers. He was playing the violin and swaying gently with his eyes closed. On the table was a handgun, which explained the gunshots and the holes in the wall around the smiley face. He stopped playing and turned to face me. 

"Rosa Husselbee. I believe I have a riddle for you," He said in his rich, silky voice. 

"Erm, yes, but how did you know it was me?" I puzzled. 

"This morning I received an envelope in the post. I immediately knew who it was from the faint smell of briar-wood and Bag End ink. Inside was a small slip that read a riddle in Latin. I translated it quickly in my head and figured out what the riddle was referring to. It was easy, much too easy, so it couldn't of been for me, so who was it for? A child obviously, say 14/15. The paper didn't look new, tasted about 4 days old, but it must of came from Bag End which should only take a couple of days, so Gandalf must have written it a couple of days before sending it, which also means that he was planning for it to arrive at my door on this exact date, but why? Well, if it wasn't meant for me and he is planning something, then someone should arrive here today and I should give them the riddle and we all know how Gandalf likes to send people on adventures. When you knocked, I estimated from the volume and pitch that you must of been a girl, about 14/15, so I knew you were the person that the riddle was for." He spoke faster than I ever thought a human could and made it look easy. His speech was followed by a deadly silence as I tried to make sense of the blur of words I'd just heard. 

"Wow." I was completely stunned. "Wait, but how do you know my name?"

"It says it on your necklace." I'd completely forgotten about my necklace. I'd gotten it last year as  a birthday present from my mum. It was silver and read my name.

"Well that was amazing!" I exclaimed. 

"Oh that was nothing," he shrugged. 

"So are you going to give me the riddle?"

"The hat."

"Excuse me?" 

"The hat. The riddle's a clue to the hat." He pointed at a grey deerstalker hat on the table infront of the sofa. AH CRAP! How am I supposed to get it now?

"Oh ok."

"Take it. Just take it. I don't want it. Anyway, I have two now, seeing as some idiot police officers though it would be funny to give it to me as a gift." He moaned angrily. I take the hat and put it in my bag. Well that was easy. What do I do now? 

"Thank you very much Mr Holmes." I stood awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to leave.

"Is there something I can help you with?" He said after a few moments. 

"Well can I not stay? Help you crack a case or something?" 

"Why would I need a stupid fourteen year old girl to follow me round and point out the obvious? I have John for that." He snapped abruptly. 

"Sherlock.." John sighed. 

"What? Was I being rude again? I'm just being honest." God he's a right psycho! "No, I'm a high functioning sociopath!" He said, almost like he was answering my thought. Anger bubbled up inside of me. 

"You think you're all smart and sexy, but you're not! You're just an ignorant, cocky crap who likes to put other people down so that he can always be on top!" I regretted saying it as soon as it left my mouth.

"Smart is the new sexy." He replied vacantly. 

"Ok, I'll just leave." Wait, where do I go next? How do I get there?

"Why are you here anyway? Why do you need my hat?" He asked. I explain to him the whole story whilst he stands there, deep in concentration. After I finish he takes a seat and rests his chin on his steepled fingers. 

"But what I don't understand is why me? I'm anything from special." I said.

"Oh don't you understand!?" I look at him blankly, trying to think of an explanation. He rolls his eyes. "I wonder what it must be like in those odd little brains of yours. You can fight the villain that he can't. The one villain that we've missed out." I think hard but I have no idea what he's talking about. Still, I don't want to look stupid so I nod and pretend that I understand. 

"Did the riddle say anything about where I am supposed to be going next?" I ask.

"Amsterdam." HAZEL AND GUS! 

"Great, but how do I get there?"

"My brother leaves on his private jet for Amsterdam in about an hour. You could get on that, if you don't mind being stuck on a plane with my wretched brother for an hour." 

'Oh I don't," I laugh. He presses keys on his phone rapidly. 

"A car should be here any minute to pick you up."

"Thank you. Oh and Hagrid gives his love." 

Sherlock chuckled and replied "Tell Gus he owes me." 

"Goodbye Sherlock." I said as I left down the stairs and out into the street, where a black car was waiting. I turned to John. "Bye John and thank you."

"Anytime Rosa and I'm sorry about Sherlock. Good luck. And pop round if you're ever in London again." 

I nodded and got into the car. The vehicle whizzed off as I waved goodbye to John and Baker Street. 

See you guys on Friday!