Footsteps. Bare feet. Ten meters. Five. Four. One. Soft thud on the carpet right in front of my door. Footsteps disappeared again as swiftly as they had come. I frowned as I glanced at my pocket watch. 6 am. What a curious time for a delivery. Might it be a new case?
I stood up, lit a candle, put on my deerstalker cap, and walked to the door. I opened it and glanced down. A square object, wrapped in brown paper, a white envelope on top. I picked it up and read, “The great detective, Sherlock Holmes. Well, that is me, quite obviously.”
I examined the box and deemed it harmless. I picked it up and put it on the desk, and carefully opened it. Curious. I wished my good friend was here to chronicle this for me. Alas, I was alone. I stared at the white sheet of paper, obscuring my view of the secrets contained in this box. For secrets they were, of that I was certain. I removed the sheet cautiously, and set it aside, and then, with a growing sense of excitement, I examined the contents.
A magnifying glass, a deerstalker cap, quite elementary the tools of my trade. Then I looked at another object. It looked… flawed. I grabbed the magnifying glass, and gazed at the object below me. Curious indeed. What reason would anyone have to send me a calabash pipe with an obvious flaw on it’s bowl?
I dropped the magnifying glass, took the pipe, and put it in my mouth. Despite the flaw in it, it was a satisfactory pipe. Still, it did not offer me any explanation as to why it was sent to me. Footsteps rushed in at the other end of the door. A voice said, “I should have guessed you would have heard me. Happy birthday. Do you like your gift?”
I grinned, and whispered, “Elementary, my dear, dear mother.” My hand hovered over the box, finally deciding on the magnifying glass. I put it in my mouth and said with a satisfied grin, “Fine Belgian chocolate, indeed.”

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