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There came a knock at the door and then an invitation. A curly haired gentleman with sideburns arranged in generous chops entered the cluttered suite. “Hello? I say, is this Sherlock Holmes’s apartment?” From behind the desk facing the visitor, a sharp-nosed man holding a magnifying glass spoke. “You’ve got the wrong address. He is downstairs in two-twenty-one-B.” “Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt your afternoon. I am looking for a private detective, but I’ve arrived at the incorrect address.” “You may have come to the right place with your inquiry. I too am a detective by trade.” “Really? Perhaps I