A/N: After enjoying MrsPencil's SH pieces so much, including her Moor Verse and Sound and Motion series, I decided to have a little fun trying my hand at converting The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle to verse in time for the holidays. Based more on the Granada version. Hope you enjoy! :)

Blue Christmas

~o~

Twas the season of Christmas

And things were not well

With the Countess of Morcar

At the Cosmopolitan Hotel

~o~

It seemed that the grate

Suffered deterioration

And John Horner was called

To achieve restoration

~o~

He said not a word

But went straight to his work

Not knowing what fate for him

Shortly did lurk

~o~

A small job to do

He sorted it all out

Til Cusack the maid

Exclaimed with a shout

~o~

The Countess is back!

She said with some dread

If she finds you still here

Then it'll mean my head

~o~

So Ryder the attendant

And Cusack the maid

Sent Horner out the door

Assuring he'd be paid

~o~

A scream pierced the room

And the halls of the hotel

Things at the old Cosmo'

Were still quite unwell

~o~

The Countess was missing

Her precious blue stone

That Horner had taken it

Seemed already known

~o~

And so Scotland Yard

Sent Inspector Bradstreet

To wrap up the case

All tidy and neat.

~o~

On the day before Christmas

I returned to my flat

Where Holmes lounged staring

At a battered old hat

~o~

I supposed that poor thing

Told of something quite criminal

Not at all, said Holmes

Just an incident whimsical

~o~

It seems that Peterson

The good Commissionaire

Ended up with the hat

After quite an affair

~o~

While on his way home

From a bit of celebration

He encountered a drunk

Enduring molestation

~o~

Some ruffians harassed him

Knocked the hat from his head

He raised his stick in defense

And broke a window instead

~o~

Peterson tried intervening

Alas to no avail

His uniform had told them

That they might go to jail

~o~

The roughs all took off

Up Tottenham Court Road

The drunk bolted too

Abandoning his load

~o~

A goose, what a bird!

Quite the Christmas feast maker

A tag on its leg read:

For Mrs. Henry Baker

~o~

So Peterson brought me

The hat and the bird

Knowing odd problems

To be my preferred

~o~

The goose I sent with him

To grace his own table

From the hat, I deduced

As best I was able

~o~

I see nothing here, Holmes

I said to my friend

From what I observe

We're at a dead end

~o~

Not at all, my dear fellow

Holmes said with a grin

There is much to be learned

If one knows where to begin

~o~

Henry Baker is a man

Of learning and sagacity

Simple to deduce

From sheer cubic capacity

~o~

His wife does not love him

She doesn't brush his hat

He has gone down in the world

The older style tells us that

~o~

A man who is graying

And uses lime-cream

He's been to the barber

It's all here at the seam

~o~

A broken elastic

His foresight now wanes

His dignity he keeps

With ink to hide stains

~o~

One final thing

My companion did quip

There's no gas at his house

For only candles will drip

~o~

I admitted it interesting

And also quite clever

But of what use, I asked

Is this mental endeavor?

~o~

Just then Peterson

Came in at a rush

He was flummoxed and winded

His face all a-flush

~o~

The goose, Mr. Holmes!

Near the door he did stop

You never will guess

What was in that bird's crop!

~o~

The biggest gem I've seen

Or I'm a monkey's uncle

No mere gem, replied Holmes

It's the Blue Carbuncle!

~o~

To be continued...