The continuing saga continues...
The three of us rode post haste to where the Havershams resided, 229 Brick Lane, and no sooner had we pulled up outside the building than Holmes leapt out of the cab without a moment’s notice and bounded up the stairs three at a time. Mrs Haversham and I followed as quickly as we could, and arrived in the living room to find Holmes pacing about the room, evidently lost in thought, while Mr Haversham’s body lay slumped in an armchair near the fireplace. It was a grim scene indeed, and as though to agree with me, Mrs Haversham pierced the air with a shrill scream. This seemed to rouse Holmes from his ponderings.
“Is my husband - dead?” she stammered.
“No madam, however, I fear we must act quickly and quietly if we are to save him.”
I knelt beside Haversham’s prone form and checked for a pulse. After a few seconds, my efforts were rewarded with a slow throb. Holmes had once again been proved correct.
“I say Holmes, how the deuce did you know this fellow was alive?”
He waved a bony hand dismissively.
“Watson my dear simian, there’ll be plenty of time for explanations later. Right now, we must attend to this small matter.”
With no further warning, Holmes grabbed the comatose man’s breeches and silken undergarments and whipped them down past his knees, revealing a monstrous aberration. A small matter it most certainly was not, for the vessel one would normally expel urine from had swollen to a colossal size, and acquired a sickly purplish hue around the tip. I estimated the girth to be approximately 2 3/4 inches, and the length to be at least 9 1/2.
“What do you make of it, Watson?” Holmes enquired, standing beside me and resting his protuberant chin on one clenched fist.
“Absolutely incredible, Holmes” I replied. “In all my years as a medical practitioner, I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”
Holmes grunted and resumed his astute pacing of the room, stopping at a side-table to briefly peruse some documents, before stepping over to the open window and peering out into the street.
"Mrs Haversham, did you notice anything unusual about the room when you discovered your husband like this?" he asked, his back to us.
The young lady mused for a few seconds before replying.
"Well, now that you mention it, I did notice a rather strong smell of turmeric about the room, especially on Arthur himself."
"Turmeric, madam?" I asked.
Holmes sighed heavily. "A herbaceous perennial plant of the ginger family, used as a main ingredient of many Indian, Persian and Thai dishes. Do try and keep up Watson, you cretinous gibbon."
He paced the room a few more times, evidently still deep in thought. He was often irritable and prone to sudden outbursts at these times. It was best to simply let him be.
“And who was the last person to see your husband in this room?”
Mrs Haversham wrinkled her button nose in recollection.
“Well, let me see now. My husband doesn’t receive that many visitors, but I do believe Mr Pendleforth the tailor had stopped by earlier in the day. Do you know of him?”