Irving Room & Board was a square, uninteresting building which boasted 10 rooms available by the month for let. Bryson Mitchell held a room on the third floor, the door to which swung open without much aid at Detective Murdoch’s touch.

His laundry hung to dry on a rack to one side of the bed and dresser, on which sat a photo of Bryson and an attractive young lady. Bryson Mitchell himself lay face-up on the floor. Blood soaked through the right side of his shirt, and the man claiming to be Sherlock Holmes kneeled over him with a magnifying glass.

Detective Murdoch crossed himself.

“I was wondering when you’d finally get here,” Sherlock said without looking up. Moriarty has struck again.”

“George,” the Detective turned to Constable Crabtree. “Find a public telephone box and call for Doctor Grace.”

“Right away, Sir,” he agreed, and hurried back out down the hall.

Murdoch crossed the room and tugged Sherlock away from the body. “I’ll thank you to not contaminate evidence. You’ve now been found at the scene of two crimes. How do you explain that?”

“I’ve made myself clear,” Sherlock replied, clearly annoyed. “I’m in pursuit of Moriarty.”

“Let’s set that aside. How did you come to find yourself in the room of a dead bank guard?” Murdoch gestured at the small, messy space.

“I found his address on your constable’s desk. If you’re asking why I am here, I should have thought that obvious. It is my belief that Bryson Mitchell was working with Moriarty.”

Murdoch sighed. “All right. And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Did you notice the guard sat for hours in the waiting room without availing himself of a washbasin? Or that the two cuts on his forehead were straight and fine?”

Murdoch thought for a moment before continuing. “I thought… Professor Moriarty was dead.”

“As did I,” Sherlock replied, lowering his head.

“Then what makes you think he’s behind these crimes?”

“I recognized one of his henchmen,” Sherlock explained. “I saw him at the Reichenbach Falls.”

“Where you and Moriarty had your final confrontation?”

“Not as final as I’d hoped.”

“When did you see this henchman– in Toronto?” Murdoch clarified.

Sherlock’s confidence returned, his chin tilted up proudly. “Yesterday. I was travelling on the Queen Street car, and by the time I disembarked he was gone. But I found the paper he was reading and recognized a section of the page was missing. I purchased another copy and on the missing page was a message specifying a time and a place. Suspecting a robbery, I set about to thwart it.”

“Witnesses said the horses of the thieve’s carriage ran off without them.”

“Yes, I disguised myself as a drunk and unhitched the horses. Unfortunately the police were even slower than I expected.”

Circle the letters B, G, and S.