The Mystery of the unsolicited Postcards: Solution Three
Sherlock has once told him that once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbably, must be true. Truth, he had also heard, was often stranger than fiction.
The truth of the matter, as he saw it, was that three blank postcards wasn’t an accident. It had meaning. It was a message - obviously! - but one that made him consider the formerly impossible to be now merely improbable. And that was dangerous.
Sherlock Holmes was dead. He had jumped from a roof, fallen and then sharply stopped. Dead. Dead men didn’t send blank postcards from… he turned the postcard over again, somewhere in Corsica? Yet someone was sending them and it obviously had something to do with Sherlock, even if it wasn’t Sherlock sending them.
Three postcards, three different places, all blank and all addressed to him. Folding his fingers together he stared at the postcards; two from Britain, one not. One slightly creased from where it has been in the bin before he had fished it out. He had kept them, because sometimes you needed the hope that the impossible was merely the improbable.
He’d asked for a miracle. Was this it? Or was he merely setting himself up for another fall?
Mind made up, he opened his laptop and searched for everything he could find on Bastia.
The truth of the matter, as he saw it, was that three blank postcards wasn’t an accident. It had meaning. It was a message - obviously! - but one that made him consider the formerly impossible to be now merely improbable. And that was dangerous.
Sherlock Holmes was dead. He had jumped from a roof, fallen and then sharply stopped. Dead. Dead men didn’t send blank postcards from… he turned the postcard over again, somewhere in Corsica? Yet someone was sending them and it obviously had something to do with Sherlock, even if it wasn’t Sherlock sending them.
Three postcards, three different places, all blank and all addressed to him. Folding his fingers together he stared at the postcards; two from Britain, one not. One slightly creased from where it has been in the bin before he had fished it out. He had kept them, because sometimes you needed the hope that the impossible was merely the improbable.
He’d asked for a miracle. Was this it? Or was he merely setting himself up for another fall?
Mind made up, he opened his laptop and searched for everything he could find on Bastia.