The Case of the Backfiring Olive

Bored. Bored again. Not one client. Why is it whenever there’s something decent happening to this boring country, no one ever get murdered, kidnaped or robbed. Isn’t it hateful? The murderers nowadays need to up their game a little. Their standards are lowering by the minute. The first time I saw Michel Post I knew exactly what type of man he was. John had told me to be careful of saying my thoughts out loud, but I couldn’t help it and happened to blurt out, ‘Buddhist.’

“Sherlock…” I hear John murmur from behind me.

“Umm. Modest. You’re… so good looking,” I wince at how soppy and ‘nice’ I sound and I hear John snigger behind me, “How you’re so good looking and… yet you don’t brag.”

 “Apologies for looking so shocked when you said it then,” Michel says smiling, “I would swear you said ‘Buddhist’. How remarkable. You absolutely right.”

Right. Right again and I can’t help the half smile spread on my face. I prop my violin against the fireplace with a musical bump.

“How ever did you know?” he asks, obviously impressed.

“Don’t…” John says with a deep sigh, “Just… Don’t get him started, he won’t shut up.”

“If the man is curious…” I sit back in my deep velvet chair and rest my arms in on the curve of the arms, “When you came in, so calm and quiet. Too calm for the normal man in London and as you entered you closed your eyes. Sign of peace. As you sat down you held up your posture and held your legs open, slightly bent, sign of meditation.”

John rudely interrupts, “That’s stupid Sherlock, I meditate and I don’t sit like that.”

The thought amuses me. John Watson. The army doctor from Afghanistan meditates? It had never occurred to me and now I remember the neatly placed towel on the floor of the living room when I returned one day from the morgue.

“What does that matter? You obviously don’t do it often or you would sit like that too. And you would have had to do it when I was there. John, your my PA, you would never have time to, unless I went to business alone, that isn’t much.”

“But still,” John rambles on, “He could just be a guy who liked to meditate.”

“I had my suspicions confirmed when…”

“When what? You saw that his shirt had food on, only from Hong Kong?”

“No I saw the tattoo on his back when his shirt rode up to pick up his glass. I may be mistaken but I think it was the Buddha,” I say mockingly, “And the matching pendant. Obviously means something.”

Mrs Hudson and Michel Post just stare, Michel with his mouth wide open and Mrs Hudson shakes her head sadly, disappointed at me… then there comes a small beeping sound.

“Oh. Look at the time,” says Michel glancing at his watch. “This has been very…interesting. Very interesting indeed. Well I wish you all the best,” he stands up and turns to the door and gently kisses Mrs Hudson.

As soon as the door closes, me and John are eyeing her up with raised brows and sarcastic smiles.

“Well I never,” says John with his arms crossed and shaking his head.

“Mrs… Post, was it?” I look at John and we both laugh teasingly, “I hope you’ll be very happy.”

Mrs Hudson just shakes her head at me. She knows I am joking and so does John.

*****

            After being granted access to the nearest mausoleum I waste no time in summoning a cab and taking a visit. I had been wondering for some time now, if whipping a crusty old carcass would have any effect on the environment by letting out toxic fumes. Soon we arrive at the old stone establishment. This crumbling building was created by the Post family and, since Mrs Hudson had started courting with the latest member of the family tree, I thought it would be nice to pop in and meet the rest of the family. I told Detective Lestrade I have Michel’s permission and was soon granted immediate access throughout the facility. For company, I thought I’d bring along John. Annoying as he is, he does distract me from childishly playing haunted houses with myself. I don’t really know why I brought him. My skull, which I could have brought along, would have fitted in rather well. But no. I had decided to bring along an ex-army doctor, who, within the last 24 hours, revealed that not only did he meditate, but he was also scared of mausoleums too.