I Figured Out Holmes Was A Detective, The Hard Way

• Jeu-ryan Huang, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2010

I Figured Out Holmes Was a Detective, the Hard Way
I am right now in the Magistrate’s Court, awaiting my formidable fate and shivering feverishly as I recount the events that have resulted from my foolish actions. Big Whoop! Giving a (very) wealthy woman a fright and permanently ‘borrowing’ her handbag. How was I to know that she was going to die of fright? Then along comes nosy Sherlock Holmes who puts me in this position I am in now. Now, you must be anxious as to know what I’m jabbering on about, so now I shall recount my story to you…

I jumped out of my seat and sprinted towards the door, exiting through the back entrance from the cinemas having just watched the movie, Thriller. I raced down the lane, into the graveyard as footsteps slowly followed me. Easing through all the countless number of inexplicable twists and turns I made. Considering that the pursuer had detonated my booby traps and followed me, I deducted that my pursuer was a professional. But was his profession as excellent as mine at shaking off countless attempts to try and follow me? I hid in the bushes, next to a huge, crooked willow. The willow was shaped like a witch and in the dim moonlight, it looked like one. Moonlight shone through the massive, iron gates bordering the cemetery, just like a gaol…

I jumped as I heard a howl in the distance. Too many movies, I reassured myself as I slightly curled up into a ball, acknowledging the warmth of my body as shivers ran up my spine. I bolted upright as I heard a (very) wealthy couple cooing romantic phrases to one another, slowly descending the lane to the cemetery, stopping abruptly as they neared the vast, jagged, iron gates of the deathly courtyard. With a fearsome sculpture of Death with a scythe in the middle of the graveyard, it would make your knees buckle as you stare at it, unable to tear your eyes off its hypnotic gaze. Even in the day this was a spine-chilling, knee-buckling place to visit. Let alone in the night with a full moon noting your every move and footsteps following you. The graveyard was supposed to resemble the Medieval French graveyards- without the corpses bubbling up to the surface – but architectures were way off e.g. corpses didn’t bubble up to the surfaces. There were no ‘Death Dances’ and there was no partying. This wasn’t a Medieval French graveyard!

Finally, after what seemed like hours of waiting in the cold, death-like courtyard… The massive, iron gate slowly creaked forwards, the base gliding gracefully over the ghostly grass. At last, my trap was ready…

As they slowly dragged their stubborn, trembling legs through the graveyard I started hooting like an owl. They looked frantically from side to side, alarmed, and quickly crossed the graveyard with two pairs of eyes boring into their backs. Mine, and, as I would later find out, - Sherlock Holmes’. Let them cross, I told myself, there’ll still be a ‘wedding present’ at the end. If there had been some light reflecting off my ‘handsome’ (cough, cough) face, you would have seen a twinkle of light reflecting off my eyes…

I stayed close to the flora in the graveyard as I slowly edged along, weaving my way through the trees. Now, a pair of observant eyes bore into my back. As I neared the gigantic, iron gates on the side where the wealthy couple were trying to reach, I started hooting again. Simultaneously, a series of screeches that -weren’t accounted for- filled the air. I stared and listened intently, dumbstruck. Who else would come here at night?! Oh well, the couple were approaching the gates faster now, totally freaked out. I was ready. My ‘present’ was ready…

They slowly eased open the vast gate. Simultaneously, a dollop of fresh bat poo was delivered. At least it was organic! Then I stepped into the moonlight…

My green teeth shone in the light as I tapped the should of the woman with a bone- an arm off a skeleton- she screamed and I think had a heart attack form shock and fright. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Oops.

I shoved the man aside and there he lay, sprawled upon the floor, horror stricken. I sprinted like there was no tomorrow, snatching up the woman’s handbag -with a professional’s grace- in the process, heading for home. My home was a ‘very soft’ patch of grass with a vast collection of stolen good in a dark silent alleyway. I fell instantly asleep after another day of work. No death weighed upon my conscience. I was a vagabond.

I woke up – to find myself in a dark cell. Was this the ultimate place of bliss; or a nightmare? It was very well that I had a soft, comfy, bed with a soft flattened pile of feathers stuck in a bag (pillow). But the thing was; there was a door. A steel door; with steel bars. Oh dear…

That’s when Mr. Nosy Parker (indicating Sherlock Holmes) poked his head through the bars, smiled that practiced smile of his when he caught the prisoners( and received a fortune). Then the door slowly opened with no creaking as I was led into a Trial.

And that’s how I ended up here. Spending twelve years in gaol for ‘murder’, as Mr. Nosy Parker put it. Still, shivering feverishly.












Written by Jeu-Ryan Cheng Huang
Corinda State Primary School Grade 7B