The Leiry Loop

"As per usual, the Inspector saw but did not observe," remarked Holmes impatiently as he dug his fingers deeper unto the earth. "This patch of land have been tampered with just recently, most likely by our culprit, and as expected Scotland Yard have managed to overlook it."

It did not take long for me to notice what he was on about; perhaps it was due to my long-standing companionship with this man of deduction that I have caught on to his malady as well—I have developed a keener sense of observation. Although it is unlikely that I will shoot a full barrel on the wall or take my doctor's prescriptions too seriously resulting to over-dosage, I am delighted that his line of reasoning was, at the very least, contagious.

"Do you see now, Watson? I believe a proper excavation is in order, but we have no time. We should recover the body by daybreak to avoid unnecessary paperwork."

"The soil on top is most definitely softer than underneath," said I, scooping a bit off the top layer of moist earth with my left hand. "Someone, or something—if we are to believe the witness' account, by covering this here, tried to hide the spot where they have buried the girl..."

I did not concern myself with finishing my statement any longer. What we both have found after removing the topmost layer of the crime scene was indeed puzzling, but ordinary, too ordinary.

We expected to see the decaying remains of a three-day old corpse. The foul stench, rotting flesh, haunting images of a child murdered in cold-blood—we expected them all, and yet...

...we were rewarded a rabbit hole.

A rabbit hole where children can easily fit in. Its depth was indiscernible, its mouth, ominous.

Could it be that the master detective had made a serious blunder? I looked at him as he brushed the accumulated dirt off hands on his coat then wiped the sweat off his forehead. Time seemed to move more slowly by the minute. I waited for answers that only he could give, with bated breath.

"It is dangerous to form conclusions with limited evidence, doctor; as of now, I am at will to inform you that we have arrived at an interesting point in our investigation," was his reply; he must've sensed my question coming a mile away. If I didn't know any better, I would think that this is just a timely excuse for being at a loss. But this is Sherlock Holmes we are talking about. I would hate it if he gets lost. Or worse, commit a mistake. Especially with a little girl's life on the line.

"Watson, if it is to your convenience, ready your shovel. We are coming in."

"What?" My thoughts halted and I was brought back into form within a blink of an eye. The reason behind the eccentricity of the man have always failed to escape my rationality, and will always do so. I have restrained myself from wondering and instead focused on understanding, but at that time, I was compelled to ask. "You mean into this pitch-black hole? Are you mad?"

"You heard me, did you not? Be quick, Alice Liddell is waiting."

Dumbfounded, I lifted my shovel in silent protest—and then realization struck.  

He had too much cocaine.

07/21/2012

The Case of the Missing Alice I