Our uniforms and a flash of the Detective’s badge gained us access to the exhibit, though it wasn’t scheduled to open until the next day. “We will need to see the Star of Tehran,” Detective Murdoch explained to the vice-consul. “Do you have a gem appraiser on staff?” The man frowned. “Why would we? These…

Do you have a circled T? We introduced Sir Arthur to Sherlock Holmes. While the author had made it clear that he hated the character of Sherlock he himself had created, he seemed fascinated by our addled friend. “How could I possibly resist? It’s not often that a writer gets to meet his own creation.”…

“We’d like to send a telegraph, please.” Crabtree slipped our form across the desk at Toronto’s busy central telegraph office. Circle the letter T. You may now access Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at the Royal York Hotel.

The Spadina Apartments were in a nicer building than the Shuter block, though nicer was a relative term. We were shown up to Sebastian Moran’s room immediately, and the landlady was kind enough to unlock the door for us. “Not sure if he’s home right now,” she whispered in the hall. “I’ll leave you boys…

“Oh we did have a Mr. Moran staying here, a few years ago,” the land lady confirms. “But he moved out. Said he was movin’ up in the world. Nice man. Very quiet. Kept to himself, like.”

“Look we’ve got all the records for the other prisons in the province,” the officer in the front office explained. “I’m telling you we ain’t got any Edward Hopkins in any jail here right now. Now if it were 1885, that’d be a different story.” “What happened in 1885?” Crabtree asked. “We had an inmate…

“I can see leaving a house behind,” the Inspector said, pouring himself a stiff drink. “Even a safe deposit box. But money in the bank?” “Sirs, Mr. Holmes has deduced that Mr. Hopkins was murdered,” Crabtree said with a definitive air. He had bought the Sherlock Holmes act hook, line, and sinker. Detective Murdoch had…