Sherlock shook his head. “What I don’t understand, Watson…”
Watson blinked at Sherlock. It was so rare that Sherlock confessed to not understand something, he was left quite unsure of what to say.
Sherlock caught the flash of confusion on Watson’s face, but continued regardless. “… is why Chastain would show dead on the kitchen floor – MY kitchen floor! – without my ever having met the chap!”
Watson gazed at the tall man before him. “It has to be because we found that dratted dressmaking kit. Perhaps he came here to retrieve it. He must have been followed here.”
“Dead men don’t care much for sewing kits, Watson… but perhaps the clue is there after all.”
Sherlock crossed the room, retrieving a small brown cloth case from the hall table. It unbuttoned to reveal a neat kit containing well-maintained scissors, needles, and lengths of high-quality threads in a rainbow of colours. A small, hand-stitched label nestled under the handle of the scissors.
“Mack’s Threads, London.” Sherlock pondered for a moment, examining the kit yet again. “It’s plain cloth without embellishment, but good quality. I should think they’ll be in Cheapside.”
“Hold on. Chastain was the tailor to the Prime Minister’s wife!”
“Yes, Watson, with a shop in Regent Street, but the people who make sewing kits don’t have shops in Regent Street. They have factories in Cheapside.”
Sherlock strode confidently into the living room and picked up the telephone.
“Hello, Operator… could you please give me Mack’s Threads in Cheapside? Thank you.”
Two seconds and three loud clicks later, Sherlock smiled. “Yes, I’d like to speak to Mr Mack, please… Oh? How very interesting… Hasn’t been in since yesterday! How does he run a business?… Ah. Quite out of character. Yes… I see…”
Sherlock glanced into the kitchen and frowned at the dead man on the floor.
“Oh! One other question… would you happen to know if Mr Mack ever carried a knife?”
Sherlock winced at the voluble and indignant protest that emanated from the earpiece at such a suggestion , then returned it to his ear when it went quiet. “Ah. Quite. My apologies. Thank you.”
Watson looked at Sherlock expectantly.
“Well, Watson! What do you thinhk? He’s gone missing!”
To follow Sherlock and Watson on this adventure and read the next chapter of the story, click here.