The Case of Sylvia Cynthia Grenville

"It's your fault! It's your fault that she's gone! You never loved her. You've never treated her like a person! I don't think I want to be married to you anymore!"

"But I didn't lose her! You had her yesterday."

"And you PROMISED! You PROMISED to take care of her. To love her and now…"

"There's no reason to cry!"

"Yes, there is! I am not speaking to you ever more!"


Sex: Female
Hair: Red
Eyes: Blue


There were only a few places she could be, since she had gone missing between breakfast and tea time. He had gone to work for a bit, but Lottie had not left the house with her.

What had Lottie done while he was gone?

He started in the bedroom.

There was still evidence that they had taken tea there. One teacup had fallen to the floor. He picked it up and placed it on his bed. He turned carefully in a circle, but, seeing nothing of interest, he walked out of the room.

Lottie had been wearing large pumps, so it was not difficult to see her footprints in the plush carpet. They led straight down the stairs. He followed them to the kitchen.


"Where did she go?"

"Who?"

"Where did Lottie go?"

"She didn't leave, then?"

"Before. She came into the kitchen. Do you remember when?"

"Around 10:30."

"And then what did she do?"

"I gave her some biscuits, and she took them out to the garden with her."

"She went outside?"

"Yes. Do you want a biscuit?"

"And milk."


The pumps made it very easy.

Lottie had gone down the garden path. She had stopped by the flowers. He could see the scuffed gravel, but he also knew that she always stopped to smell those particular roses. And she always picked a few.

It looked like she'd taken the pumps off eventually, but the unmown grass still bore a distinct trail. He knew where it led. To their special place—the best place to eat biscuits when the ground wasn't so muddy.

There was a short stretch of mud before the hedge with the special hollow. And that was where he saw ominous footprints. Footprints—pawprints—of the gigantic greyhound, Chester.

Pawprints that danced in circles and jumped and leaped, before they led off to the other end of the garden.

He looked once more in the small clearing.

A crumbled half of a biscuit. Two rose petals

And – Ah! There near the bush a glimpse of red fibers. And near his own feet a few stray wisps of white cotton. Lottie had forgotten her, and she was over there... and there...


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MY DEER LOTTIE,

I HAVE FOUND SILVIA. SHE WAS IN THE GARDN. I HOPE IT WILL BE AKSEPTABEL A AXCS I HOPE YOU ARE NOT ANGRY WITH ME AND WE CAN BE MARRED AGAIN.

YOUR LOVING HUSBEND,

SHERLOCK HOLMES


MISTER SHERLOK HOLMES

THAT IS NOT SYLVIA CYNTHIA! YOUR BROTHER MUST HAV MADE THOSE ADOPTIN PAPERS. I AM A MOTER, AND A MUMMY ALWAYS KNOWS HER KID.

FARWELL.

DO NOT TRY ANY MORE TO

I DO NOT WANT

THIS MARREGE IS OVER.

CHARLOTTE GRENVILLE

PS: NOT HOLMES!