“George!” Detective Murdoch yelled, storming out of his office. “Where is the man claiming to be Sherlock Holmes?”

“Sir, he’s right there in your office–” Crabtree pointed to the visitor’s chair, it’s back turned to the doorway, covered in Sherlock’s famous coat with the deer stalker sat on top.

When they rounded the chair to face the man in question though, they instead found Murdoch’s skeleton, dressed the part, complete with a still smoking pipe clenched between its teeth.

“Oh.” Crabtree sounded impressed.

“He was to remain in my office!”

“That’s very cheeky,” Crabtree replied. “I’m sorry, sir, I was distracted. I did find some interesting information, though. Both our victim and one of the witnesses live in the same rooming house. Now either that’s a strange coincidence, or…”