AmyAlice
01-11-2011, 04:13 AM
This is part of a year 12 major work, so any and all feedback will be appreciated. Whether it is spelling or grammar corrections, suggestions on how sections should be altered, or whether you were overall pleased with what you read. Quick feedback is also helpful thank you =) (I realize the name of where the murder took place is missing, that is due to uncertainty of where it should be. Any suggestions abut that are quite welcome to =) )
It was one warm summer afternoon at Baker Street when I was called upon by my friend Dr. Watson. I was in the middle of studying an array of newspaper articles for a case I was working on when Dr. Watson entered. It seemed he had a letter from Inspector Lestrade , informing me of a murder that had taken place at at around two-thirty that morning and that they were have difficulty solving the case and needed the help of my expertise. I took the letter from him and examined it for myself. At first read it seemed a typical murder case, but when I re-read the letter, and looked at its finer details I realized all was not what it seemed. The letter described the scene of the crime ‘as if the victim was mutilated by some beast’, yet they are quite sure this was the work of our fellow human begins. I went to my trusty companion Dr Watson to inform him of the situation. Dr. Watson has been by my side for years, someone I can always rely on to be there to back me up on a case, or there for me to be able to ponder my thoughts out-a-loud and think more clearly. Dr. Watson himself is a quiet man, a man of few words as some might say, though this works quite well for me. A loud companion would not be as useful. He seems to never question the actions or thoughts I take, and though asks for reasons, does not become disappointed if he receives none. I believe over the years he has grown accustom to my ways and takes things as they come, and is now always ready for the unexpected as am I. I entered the small, yet cozy living room to find Watson studying the morning paper. I took the newspaper from his hands and replaced it with the letter. With no shock or surprise to the abrupt interruption, he immediately began to read the letter in front of him. His eyes moved quickly along the page and before a minute was up he put down the letter.
“Well Holmes, what do you think?”
“I think it’s an intriguing case. Seeming as if “mutilated by some beast” yet a human being, quite the query. This is going to involve some hands on work I believe, c’mon Watson”. After grabbing a quick stash of opium, my pipe and nothing else, Watson and I preceded to Inspector Lestrande’s office.
Inspector G. Lestrade, a quick man with plenty of energy to spare, but lacking in imagination and very conventional, bad traits if you ask me. A man known to be one of the best detectives at Scotland Yard, though a lot of this comes from taking credit of my accomplishes, not something that bothers me in the slightest though. I believe, though this man has no real crime solving skills of the sort, it is his determination that has brought him to his top ranks. I would not say that I loath the man, but I do dislike him.
Entering the Scotland Yard I was greeted respectfully by various officers and acquaintances, “Afternoon Mr. Holmes”,
“How do you do Mr. Holmes”. With a nod of my head to everyone you passed by I headed to Lestrade’s office. Reaching the fine oak door that exclaimed “INSPECTOR LESTRADE” ignoring common social conventions, as accustom, I opened the door and walked in Lestrande’s office.
“Ah, course, Sherlock Holmes, should have known straight away it was you, who else doesn’t bother knock” noted Lestrande as I entered the room.
“Inspector,” I said as I took a seat in one of the chairs adjacent his desk “I received your letter about the murder the commenting it look as if mutilated by some beast, yet done by a human. I find this thought intriguing and wish to see the crime scene as soon as possible” plain and direct orders I found have always been the easiest way to communicate; I wasn’t one for chit-chat.
It was one warm summer afternoon at Baker Street when I was called upon by my friend Dr. Watson. I was in the middle of studying an array of newspaper articles for a case I was working on when Dr. Watson entered. It seemed he had a letter from Inspector Lestrade , informing me of a murder that had taken place at at around two-thirty that morning and that they were have difficulty solving the case and needed the help of my expertise. I took the letter from him and examined it for myself. At first read it seemed a typical murder case, but when I re-read the letter, and looked at its finer details I realized all was not what it seemed. The letter described the scene of the crime ‘as if the victim was mutilated by some beast’, yet they are quite sure this was the work of our fellow human begins. I went to my trusty companion Dr Watson to inform him of the situation. Dr. Watson has been by my side for years, someone I can always rely on to be there to back me up on a case, or there for me to be able to ponder my thoughts out-a-loud and think more clearly. Dr. Watson himself is a quiet man, a man of few words as some might say, though this works quite well for me. A loud companion would not be as useful. He seems to never question the actions or thoughts I take, and though asks for reasons, does not become disappointed if he receives none. I believe over the years he has grown accustom to my ways and takes things as they come, and is now always ready for the unexpected as am I. I entered the small, yet cozy living room to find Watson studying the morning paper. I took the newspaper from his hands and replaced it with the letter. With no shock or surprise to the abrupt interruption, he immediately began to read the letter in front of him. His eyes moved quickly along the page and before a minute was up he put down the letter.
“Well Holmes, what do you think?”
“I think it’s an intriguing case. Seeming as if “mutilated by some beast” yet a human being, quite the query. This is going to involve some hands on work I believe, c’mon Watson”. After grabbing a quick stash of opium, my pipe and nothing else, Watson and I preceded to Inspector Lestrande’s office.
Inspector G. Lestrade, a quick man with plenty of energy to spare, but lacking in imagination and very conventional, bad traits if you ask me. A man known to be one of the best detectives at Scotland Yard, though a lot of this comes from taking credit of my accomplishes, not something that bothers me in the slightest though. I believe, though this man has no real crime solving skills of the sort, it is his determination that has brought him to his top ranks. I would not say that I loath the man, but I do dislike him.
Entering the Scotland Yard I was greeted respectfully by various officers and acquaintances, “Afternoon Mr. Holmes”,
“How do you do Mr. Holmes”. With a nod of my head to everyone you passed by I headed to Lestrade’s office. Reaching the fine oak door that exclaimed “INSPECTOR LESTRADE” ignoring common social conventions, as accustom, I opened the door and walked in Lestrande’s office.
“Ah, course, Sherlock Holmes, should have known straight away it was you, who else doesn’t bother knock” noted Lestrande as I entered the room.
“Inspector,” I said as I took a seat in one of the chairs adjacent his desk “I received your letter about the murder the commenting it look as if mutilated by some beast, yet done by a human. I find this thought intriguing and wish to see the crime scene as soon as possible” plain and direct orders I found have always been the easiest way to communicate; I wasn’t one for chit-chat.