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


Twas the season of Christmas

And things were not well

With the Countess of Morcar

At the Cosmopolitan Hotel


It seemed that the grate

Suffered deterioration

And John Horner was called

To achieve restoration


He said not a word

But went straight to his work

Not knowing what fate for him

Shortly did lurk


A small job to do

He sorted it all out

Til Cusack the maid

Exclaimed with a shout


The Countess is back!

She said with some dread

If she finds you still here

Then it'll mean my head


So Ryder the attendant

And Cusack the maid

Sent Horner out the door

Assuring he'd be paid


A scream pierced the room

And the halls of the hotel

Things at the old Cosmo'

Were still quite unwell


The Countess was missing

Her precious blue stone

That Horner had taken it

Seemed already known


And so Scotland Yard

Sent Inspector Bradstreet

To wrap up the case

All tidy and neat.


On the day before Christmas

I returned to my flat

Where Holmes lounged staring

At a battered old hat


I supposed that poor thing

Told of something quite criminal

Not at all, said Holmes

Just an incident whimsical


It seems that Peterson

The good Commissionaire

Ended up with the hat

After quite an affair


While on his way home

From a bit of celebration

He encountered a drunk

Enduring molestation


Some ruffians harassed him

Knocked the hat from his head

He raised his stick in defense

And broke a window instead


Peterson tried intervening

Alas to no avail

His uniform had told them

That they might go to jail


The roughs all took off

Up Tottenham Court Road

The drunk bolted too

Abandoning his load


A goose, what a bird!

Quite the Christmas feast maker

A tag on its leg read:

For Mrs. Henry Baker


So Peterson brought me

The hat and the bird

Knowing odd problems

To be my preferred


The goose I sent with him

To grace his own table

From the hat, I deduced

As best I was able


I see nothing here, Holmes

I said to my friend

From what I observe

We're at a dead end


Not at all, my dear fellow

Holmes said with a grin

There is much to be learned

If one knows where to begin


Henry Baker is a man

Of learning and sagacity

Simple to deduce

From sheer cubic capacity


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


A man who is graying

And uses lime-cream

He's been to the barber

It's all here at the seam


A broken elastic

His foresight now wanes

His dignity he keeps

With ink to hide stains


One final thing

My companion did quip

There's no gas at his house

For only candles will drip


I admitted it interesting

And also quite clever

But of what use, I asked

Is this mental endeavor?


Just then Peterson

Came in at a rush

He was flummoxed and winded

His face all a-flush


The goose, Mr. Holmes!

Near the door he did stop

You never will guess

What was in that bird's crop!


The biggest gem I've seen

Or I'm a monkey's uncle

No mere gem, replied Holmes

It's the Blue Carbuncle!


To be continued...