Chapter 2: A Book Club Party

1

At the end of March, when we’d just barely returned from Kinosaki, the card arrived at Teramachi-Sanjo’s antique store Kura.

“Mail for you,” said the familiar postman as he handed me a stack of letters. I bowed, took the mail, and turned around to look at Holmes, who was sitting behind the counter.

“There seems to be a lot of mail today, Holmes,” I said.

“Thanks for getting that,” he replied. “I expect most of it to be direct mail.” He put down the local newspaper he was reading and smiled.

“Oh, you’re right.” Brochures from other art and antiques businesses, restaurant coupons, beauty salon ads... I checked them one by one as I put them on the counter, and stopped upon seeing a unique card. “What’s this...?”

Dear Kiyotaka Yagashira, the Holmes of Kyoto,

As previously mentioned, you are cordially invited to the 221st Assembly, to be held on April 1st at 3 p.m. The location is the place where he once died. That is your hint. However, you may arrive on any vehicle of your choice.

If you truly cannot figure it out, please contact me. However, at that point, you shall renounce the name of Holmes.

From S.H.

In a corner of the card was a symbol—the side profile of Sherlock Holmes with a pipe in his mouth.

“Um...” I stared at the card, dumbfounded.

Holmes reached out to take it. After reading it, he chuckled and said, “Ah, the usual.”

“Who’s S.H.? D-Do they have something to do with Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say so. This person’s name is Hiroshi Sugiura.”

“H-Hiroshi Sugiura? Wouldn’t his initials be H.S., then?”

“Yes, but he uses S.H. because he wants to have the same initials as Sherlock Holmes.”

“O-Oh.”

“By the way, my initials are K.Y., but I’d much rather go by Y.K.” K.Y. is a common abbreviation for kuuki yomenai—someone who can’t take a hint.

“I don’t blame you,” I said. But in Holmes’s case, you could say he’s kuuki yomisugiru—someone who notices too many hints. “So what’s this mysterious card about?” The line about vehicles struck me as odd.

“It’s an invitation to a party held by the West Japan Sherlock Holmes Club, or the WJSHC for short. Hiroshi ‘S.H.’ Sugiura is the organizer this time.” Holmes smiled.

“The West Japan Sherlock Holmes Club...?”

“There’s a gathering called the Japan Sherlock Holmes Club for lovers and researchers of Sherlock Holmes—in other words, Sherlockians. The WJSHC is a small-scale offshoot of that.”

“Do you belong to that club, Holmes?” I didn’t even know such a thing existed.

“Yes, although I don’t attend their meetings. I’m thinking of going this time, though, since it’s a commemorative one.” Holmes took out an atlas, flipped through the pages, and nodded. “All right.”

“Um, do you know what the location is?”

“It’s likely in Murasakino Ueno-cho.”

“H-Huh? How do you know that?” I looked at the text on the card.

“Do you know of the place where Sherlock Holmes once apparently died?”

“Um...” I looked up at the ceiling and recalled a drawing of Holmes and Professor Moriarty arguing. “I-It was a waterfall, right? He fell in with Professor Moriarty, or something like that.”

“Correct, it was Reichenbach Falls. The falls are located in Switzerland, at the coordinates 46 North, 8 East. The line, ‘However, you may arrive on any vehicle of your choice’ indicates that the hint is referencing a vehicle, in which case the city bus route 46 comes to mind. Starting from the north, the eighth stop on the route is Murasakino Ueno-cho.”

“O-Oh.”

“Hiroshi Sugiura, the organizer, likes these kinds of riddles and uses them whenever he can,” Holmes said, returning the atlas to the bookshelf.

“I see.” This party sounds kind of interesting. I smiled.

Holmes turned around and asked, “Would you like to come with me, Aoi?”

“Huh? Can I?”

“Of course.”

“Th-Then yes, I’d like to. Is it really okay, though? I don’t know much about Sherlock Holmes.”

“Don’t worry, the members are always saying that everyone is welcome. Membership levels have been dropping over the years, you see. They’re always open to visitors who are new to the fandom.”

“Okay then, I’ll go.”

And so, I was to attend the WJSHC’s commemorative party.

2

On April 1st, Holmes and I headed for Murasakino Ueno-cho by car. We were driving north on Horikawa Street. To our left, I saw a stone torii gate with a pentagram in the middle.

“Oh, that’s Seimei Shrine!” I exclaimed, staring out the window. The pentagram was a symbol of Abe no Seimei, a famous diviner.

“Do you like Seimei Shrine?” Holmes asked.

I backed away from the window and said, “I’m just curious about it because it’s so famous. It’s smaller than I expected, though.”

“It is, and in the past, it had a more inconspicuous atmosphere. More people started visiting it during the divination fad, so the shrine got polished up. Nowadays it’s full of young girls.”

“That’s the power of trends, huh?” I looked ahead at the street.

“We don’t have time to stop by Seimei Shrine today, but we can visit another time, if you’d like.”

Holmes is so nice, offering since he knows I’m interested. He’s busy with university and the store, though, so I’d feel bad making him take me there.

“It’s okay, I’ll go with Kaori,” I said.

“Oh...” he said quietly, leaving it at that.

I stared absentmindedly at the road while listening to the music playing in the car. “Horikawa is a big street, huh?”

“Yes, although it’s only big by Kyoto standards.”

“You’re right. Big streets are rare in Kyoto. Is Oike Street the biggest one?”

“No, I think Gojo Street is wider.”

“I see.” I looked at Holmes. “Is the gathering going to be at a meeting hall?” I didn’t know much about Murasakino. Are there any meeting places there?

“No.” He shook his head. “Usually they rent a hotel or an event hall, but one of the members has a large estate in Murasakino, so they’re using that this time. Her name is Taeko Mamiya, and she’s a widow in her sixties. We call her ‘Madam’—”

“The Holmes Club has a member in her sixties?” I interrupted. I thought for sure it’d be people around Holmes’s age—in other words, students.

“Yes, the members span a wide range of ages.” He smiled cheerfully.

“I-I see.”

“That said, apparently Madam became a Sherlock Holmes fan because of her housekeeper, a woman in her forties named Chie Nishizawa. Chie herself has a modern mindset and prefers to be called the ‘Mamiya butler’ rather than a maid. She was the one who joined the Holmes Club first. Madam’s legs are weak, so she can’t go outside much. Chie recommended Holmes books and movies to pass the time, and Madam became an avid fan. Today’s commemorative meeting will be held at Madam’s house.”

“Is it big enough for a gathering?”

“I’ve never gone there, so I don’t know. According to Sugiura, it’s quite stately.”

“I see.” Come to think of it, ever since I started working at Kura, I’ve been visiting a lot of fancy houses. There was the Yagashira estate in Higashiyama, the Takamiya estate in Okazaki, the Yanagihara estate in Arashiyama, and the Saito estate in Takagamine. They might not surprise me anymore, I thought as I looked out the window.

But when I saw the Mamiya estate in Murasakino, I was surprised. It was a Victorian-style house that reminded me of the manor houses in foreign movies. Surrounding it was a true English garden, with a white gazebo in the middle. Spring flowers welcomed guests while also being a pretty sight for passersby.

By now, I’ve seen many types of houses: the Yagashira stone mansion, the Takamiya estate that resembled an old castle, Yanagihara’s traditional Japanese residence, and Saito’s hybrid Japanese-Western house. Mamiya’s has yet another different aesthetic. If a little girl were to walk past here, I’m sure she’d think she was in a fairy tale.

“I-It’s beautiful.” Even I’m spellbound, and I’m not a little girl.

“I hear that the people in the neighborhood call this the ‘Rose Manor.’ They don’t seem to be blooming this early in the year, though. Oh, there are cherry blossoms too. How lovely,” Holmes said as he got out of the car, impressed by the beautiful cherry blossoms behind the gazebo. We admired the manor from afar.

“Holmes,” came a man’s voice from behind us. I turned around and saw a man wearing a suit. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and he had a friendly smile on his face.

“Good to see you again, Sugiura,” Holmes replied.

“It’s been what, two years? You finally turned up.” The man gave Holmes a light smack on the arm, then looked at me. “Is this a friend from university? Thanks for bringing a newcomer.”

“This is Aoi Mashiro, a part-timer at our store,” Holmes explained.

“I see. Nice to meet you. I’m Hiroshi Sugiura, and my side job is writing.”

“N-Nice to meet you, I’m Aoi Mashiro,” I responded. “U-Um, what do you mean by ‘side job’?” I tilted my head.

“Aoi, the people here consider being a Holmes Club member their primary occupation,” Holmes answered immediately. “Other jobs are categorized as side jobs.”

“O-Oh. So in your case, you’re a university student and an appraiser, but this club considers those side jobs?”

“Correct.” Holmes nodded with a smile as if the concept were completely normal. I could only gape at him. “I’m sorry I haven’t shown up in so long, Sugiura,” he continued. “My side jobs have been rather busy.”

“It’s all right. I’m just glad you came.”

“It’s the 221st Assembly, after all. I’m surprised you’re holding it at someone’s home, though.”

“Madam can’t walk well, so she can’t go to any other venues. She said we were welcome to use her house. As an organizer, it’s honestly really appreciated, since it means not having to pay a rental fee.”

“How many people are attending today?”

“Fifteen members, and each of them are bringing newcomers, so it should be around thirty people.”

We arrived at the gate, which was open. There was a sign on the ground in front of it that said “West Japan Sherlock Holmes Club — 221st Assembly.” We passed through the gate and were greeted by two young receptionists sitting at a long table draped in a white tablecloth. Upon seeing Holmes, they cheerfully exclaimed:

“Oh, it’s Yagashira Holmes!”

“Long time no see!”

They both looked like office ladies in their late twenties. The name tags on their chests said “Aimi Akashi” and “Hiroko Azuma.” Akashi was a dignified, smart-looking woman with her hair tied up, while Azuma had long wavy hair and seemed like a gentle older sister.

“It’s been a while,” Holmes said, bowing. “I’ve been a complete absentee.”

“Same here,” Azuma replied. “Today’s the first time I’ve shown up in a long time.” She handed Holmes a name tag that said “Kiyotaka Holmes Yagashira.” I was a bit surprised that even the Holmes Club used that nickname for him.

Akashi leaned over and asked, starry-eyed, “Is this your girlfriend?”

I quickly shook my head and said, “N-No, I’m a part-timer at his store. My name is Aoi Mashiro.”

Akashi smiled cheerfully and said, “Oh, a part-timer. Nice to meet you, and welcome to the West Japan Sherlock Holmes Club.”

“Umm, Aoi Mashiro...” Azuma murmured, writing my name on a piece of paper and inserting it into a holder. “Please wear this on your chest.”

“Okay, thank you.” I nodded and pinned the name tag to my chest.

A smiling woman walked up to us and said, “Welcome to the Mamiya estate.” The name tag on her chest said “Chie Nishizawa, Mamiya Butler.” She looked to be in her mid-forties. She had brown hair in a bob cut, wore a kimono, and seemed to be quite a unique individual. So this is the housekeeper here who calls herself a butler, I thought as I bowed.

“Good to see you, Nishizawa,” Holmes greeted. “The preparations must’ve been quite a lot of work. Thank you.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “The Uchiumi couple helped out.”

“The organizers today are you, Sugiura, and the Uchiumis?”

“Yes, and Madam.”

“I apologize for not being able to come help in advance. I’ll be the almighty butler Nishizawa’s handmaid today, so if you need anything at all, please ask.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to be a handmaid. We’re getting a lot of guests today, so we need you to be our star attraction.”

“I’ll do my best. Oh, I brought a gift too—scones from a teahouse in Kitayama.” Holmes smiled and handed over the gift.

“Why, thank you.”

Sugiura, who was standing nearby, suddenly came over and said, “Nishizawa, I can help out with that too.”

“Oh, don’t force yourself,” Nishizawa teased. “Instead, take all of these presents inside for me.”

“You’ve always been a slave driver...”

“Oh? I thought all of the men in the WJSHC were English gentlemen at heart? How could you make a woman do manual labor? I make sure not to carry things when there’s a man around.” Nishizawa giggled and smacked Sugiura on the shoulder.

“Ah, I’ll carry them,” Holmes said quickly.

Nishizawa shook her head. “No, you have to entertain the girl who’s accompanying you. That’s also what a gentleman would do, right?”

“Thanks,” Holmes said with a smile. “Come this way, Aoi.”

“O-Okay.” We bowed and walked into the garden. A couple in their mid-thirties was talking cheerfully under the white gazebo. The woman was wearing a kimono and the man was wearing a suit. The butler, Nishizawa, was wearing a kimono too. This must be an important event.

They both smiled and waved when they saw Holmes.

“Hey there, Yagashira Holmes,” the man greeted.

“It’s been a while,” said the woman. “As handsome as always, I see.”

“Long time no see.” Holmes bowed. “Aoi, these are the Uchiumis. They met each other at the Holmes Club and got married.”

I blinked in surprise. “Th-That can happen, huh?”

The couple chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, it means we share an interest, after all,” said the husband.

“We can discuss Holmes at home all we want,” said the wife.

“Right, the reason I joined the Holmes Club in the first place was because I wanted to talk about Sherlock Holmes.”

“Yagashira Holmes, do you talk to your lady friend about Sherlock too?”

“No, I do love Sherlock Holmes, but I have other interests too,” Holmes answered.

I nodded in understanding. Holmes has a wide range of interests, including fine art. Though he does like Sherlock Holmes, it’s not his #1 interest like it is for the other people here.

“Oh, so you have many interests... You should talk about Sherlock more, though.” The husband pouted, disappointed.

“I should,” Holmes responded with a smile.

As we were talking, the number of people in the garden rapidly increased.

Holmes stretched and looked around. “Aoi, shall we go inside now?”

“Oh, okay.”

The wife pointed at a Western-style party hall on the other side of the cherry blossom trees and said, “The venue is over in that hall.”

“Thank you,” Holmes said. “We’ll see you later.”

As instructed, Holmes and I headed for the white Western-style hall. It looked like something from Alice in Wonderland. Rather than a traditional entrance, it had a first-floor balcony and doors with windows. We were also supposed to keep our shoes on.

The spacious hall was set up with long tables along the walls and round tables here and there. It looked like it was going to be a standing buffet. There was what looked like a simple fitting room set up by the windows, surrounded by bright red curtains. The people whose name tags had the word “Guest” on them seemed intrigued by the interior design. I was looking around excitedly too.

“It’s a lovely house,” Holmes said.

“Yes, it really is,” I replied. “There are people of all ages here too.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, but I’m surprised that even Sherlockians call you ‘Holmes.’” These people are hardcore Sherlock fans, but they’re not angry at Holmes for using that name? I recalled when we first met Akihito, who was clearly upset about the nickname at the time.

Holmes chuckled. “They did disapprove at first.”

“Wait, really?”

“I first attended this club in high school because my senior who was on the same committee as me was a Sherlock Holmes fan. He half-dragged me to the club, saying, ‘Your nickname is Holmes, so you have to come.’”

“Th-That’s why? Is that senior coming today?”

“Apparently he can’t get out of work, so no. He was apologizing about it. Anyway, at the first regular meeting I attended, he introduced me with, ‘This guy’s last name is Yagashira, written with the character for ‘home,’ and he’s perceptive like Holmes, so that’s his nickname.’ Naturally, no one was thrilled about the idea.”

I nodded in understanding.

“Then, Sugiura said, ‘If you’re really as perceptive as Holmes, then guess what our side jobs are’...”

“D-Did you?”

“Only approximately, but yes. Then they accepted me as Yagashira Holmes.”

“W-Wow, so that’s what happened.” I imagined a high school-age Holmes guessing everyone’s jobs one after another. It was definitely believable.

A man who looked to be in his mid-fifties walked up to us, smiling cheerfully. “Hey, Yagashira Holmes.”

“Hello.” Holmes smiled back and bowed. “Long time no see. Aoi, this is Okawara. He’s an alumnus of my university who works as a lawyer.”

“That means you’re a lawyer from Kyoto University... That’s amazing,” I murmured.

“Nah, it’s only my side job.” Okawara grinned mischievously. He seemed more like a merry elementary school principal than a lawyer. “Anyway, Holmes, have you heard? Professor Sashihara brought a huge souvenir from America.”

“And what would that be?”

“He wouldn’t say. Apparently he won it at an auction. He said he wanted you to see it, though, so I bet it’s something Conan Doyle used.”

“Something Doyle used? But even if you show me a fountain pen or something, I don’t think I’ll be able to identify whether he truly used it or not.” Holmes smiled wryly and crossed his arms.

A skinny, bespectacled man around the same age as Okawara walked up to us, waving. “Hey there.”

“Speak of the devil, it’s Professor Sashihara,” said Okawara.

“It sure has been a while, Okawara.” They shook hands.

“Aoi, this is Sashihara, a professor at the University of Foreign Studies,” Holmes said. “Oh, but it’s only a side job, of course.”

“Y-Your side jobs are all so amazing,” I said. I couldn’t hide the strained look on my face in reaction to the Sherlockians’ playful fun.

“Holmes, come with me for a minute.” Professor Sashihara tugged on Holmes’s arm, leading us away from everyone else.

“Is this about the ‘souvenir’ Okawara mentioned?” Holmes asked.

“Yes. I was at an auction in America and came across this item. I impulsively bid and won, but I don’t know if it’s real or not.”

“What is it?”

Professor Sashihara hesitated before answering, “Let’s just say it’s another ‘John Smith.’ A Holmes one, at that.”

“What?” Holmes went pale. “At an American auction?”

“Yes. If anything, the fact that it was in America made it believable. I want you to take a look at it later, but first, take this.” Professor Sashihara took a card out of his pocket and gave it to Holmes. I couldn’t see it well, but there was a QR code on it.

The two of them whispered to each other for a while.

“Thank you,” Holmes said when they were done. “It’s greatly piqued my interest. Where is this treasure?”

“It’s over by the window, where the red curtains are. That’s where all of the treasures people brought in are being gathered. Akashi brought a film reel from Russia.”

“I see,” Holmes murmured. “Anyway, I’ll take a look at this first,” he said, holding up his phone.

“Yeah, thanks.”

I tilted my head, completely clueless as to what they were talking about.

3

A refreshing breeze blew in through the open doors and windows, prompting me to look outside. The large cherry blossom tree in the middle of the English garden didn’t quite match its surroundings, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Flags hung from the light poles, gazebo, and roof, as if it were a birthday party or a school sporting event. But these flags weren’t the national flag or anything like that—some of them were the Union Jack, and others depicted the silhouette of Sherlock Holmes’s side profile. They really love Holmes, huh?

As I was admiring their dedication, I noticed Sugiura, the Uchiumi couple, and the receptionists, Akashi and Azuma, setting up a semicircle of folding chairs in the hall. Holmes started helping them too at some point, and I hurriedly picked up one of the folding chairs that was leaning against the wall. It didn’t take long for the thirty or so chairs to be set up.

“Please have a seat, everyone,” Nishizawa, the butler, spoke into the microphone. “It’s time to begin.”

There didn’t seem to be assigned seating, so everyone sat wherever was convenient. Holmes and I sat next to each other at the end of one of the rows.

“The 221st Assembly of the WJSHC will now commence,” said one of the receptionists. “My name is Azuma and I’ll be your emcee for this commemorative meeting.” She bowed.

“Hm? The emcee isn’t Nishizawa, the butler?” asked Okawara, the lawyer, who was sitting in front of us.

Nishizawa lightly tapped him on the shoulder and said, “The emcee has to be a young lady, right? Questionable butlers wearing kimono work behind the scenes.”

Everyone laughed cheerfully.

“First, a speech from our dear Madam, Taeko Mamiya, who kindly provided today’s venue,” Azuma announced.

Without a moment’s delay, Nishizawa opened the door to reveal a woman waiting in a wheelchair.

“Thank you all for coming here today,” began the gray-haired woman as Nishizawa pushed her wheelchair forward slowly. “My name is Taeko Mamiya. Everyone calls me ‘Madam.’ Please feel free to do so even if it’s your first time here.”

Madam was slender and looked to be in her late sixties. She wore a salmon pink cardigan and a long cream-colored skirt—a very springlike outfit. She had a gentle smile and a refined air.

“It’s been ten years since I became a Sherlock Holmes fan,” she continued. “After my husband passed away, I employed Chie Nishizawa—the self-proclaimed ‘questionable butler.’ Before that, I did love English culture, gardens, and Alice in Wonderland, but I hadn’t read Sherlock Holmes because mystery wasn’t my cup of tea. When my butler found out, she said, ‘You’re missing out on life if you haven’t experienced Holmes.’” She smiled and giggled. “How could I not read it after being told that? But I didn’t like reading about people dying or getting hurt, so I first read The Red-Headed League. I was intrigued by the idea of a strange association that only recruited people with red hair, and I enjoyed the story very much. That led to me becoming the big fan that I am now.”

“Madam’s a bigger Sherlockian than I am now,” Nishizawa added.

“Why, that’s not true.” Madam shrugged and everyone chuckled. “I wanted to attend the regular meetings, but it just wasn’t possible because of my condition. The 221st was too special for me to pass up on, though, so I selfishly asked to hold it at my house. Thank you so much for your consideration, everyone. For such an important meeting, it surely would’ve been better to hold it in a more convenient location.” She gave an apologetic smile.

Everyone shook their heads and assured her it was fine.

Madam giggled and said, “Thank you. You’re all such good folks. ‘221’ is a special number for all of us, right?”

Everyone nodded.

Why is “221” a special number? I tilted my head.

“Many of us use ‘221’ on our license plates or passwords, right?” she continued. “Can you raise your hand if you do?”

I gaped at how most of the people raised their hand. However, Holmes did not.

“Y-You don’t use it?” I whispered in his ear.

“No, because using your own interests as passwords makes you vulnerable.”

“O-Oh, I see.” It’s just like him to say that. Wait, more importantly... “Um, why is ‘221’ a special number?” I asked extremely quietly.

Holmes blinked. “Aoi, you don’t know why?”

“I-Is it that surprising that I don’t?”

“No, my apologies. Perhaps the general population wouldn’t know either. Holmes lived in a flat managed by Mrs. Hudson, and the address was 221B Baker Street. As such, the number ‘221’ is very special to fans.”

“Oh...” I know how it feels to be enthusiastic about the protagonist of your favorite book, but thinking that their house number is special seems kind of extreme.

“I’m so glad the weather is nice today,” Madam continued, prompting me to look at her again. “The cherry blossoms are in full bloom too... My late husband cherished that tree, so it’s my treasure as well. I hope you’ll admire it too. Now then, please enjoy the rest of the party.” She bowed and everyone applauded.

“Next, the president of the WJSHC, Hiraoka,” said the emcee.

A kind-looking man stood in front of everyone and bowed. He seemed to be in his sixties, around the same age as Madam. “Today is our momentous 221st meeting. As Madam said, ‘221’ is a very special number to us Sherlockians. I’m happy to see that this special meeting has brought members that we don’t usually see. We also have many guests today, which I am sincerely grateful for. Some people may hesitate to come because they’re ‘bandwagon’ fans, but the WJSHC welcomes bandwagon fans—and anyone who’s interested in Sherlock Holmes, even if they aren’t familiar with it. Since we have so many guests here, I would ask that our members refrain from being too rabid, lest they scare our guests. Please express your love for Holmes appropriately, so that they won’t get away.” He winked, and the audience burst out laughing.

My face stiffened slightly as everyone clapped. The members must not realize that they’re already going overboard...and that the guests are already recoiling a bit...

“Next, I’d like to move on to member introductions,” Azuma said. “Since we have so many guests, please tell them what makes Holmes so great. We’ll start on that side, with Matsuda.” She looked towards a man who was sitting on the opposite end of the semicircle from us. He was likely in his late twenties, and he wore a black suit. He seemed to have the air of a researcher.

“It’s nice to meet all of our guests. My name is Ken Matsuda, and I work at Kyoto University Hospital as a side job.”

Yet another impressive side job...

“My child was born in February,” he continued.

“Oh, congratulations!” Everyone clapped, including the guests. It was certainly happy news.

“You see, I was excited because the expected date was February 21st—in other words, ‘221.’ As I watched over my wife who was suffering through labor pains, I prayed, ‘Please let the baby be born on February 21st,’ but it ended up taking until the 22nd. I later told my wife what I was thinking, and she was rather put off. She even said, ‘I’m glad it was the 22nd.’” He smiled wryly and shrugged.

The guests chuckled, sympathizing with his wife. The members, however, reacted differently:

“That’s such a shame, Matsuda.”

“It was so close.”

“If I have a kid one day, I want them to be born on February 21st too.”

I couldn’t help but gape at how they clenched their fists and genuinely felt bad for Matsuda.

“Next is Akashi,” the emcee prompted.

Akashi, one of the women who was at the reception desk, stood up and said in a crisp, cheerful voice, “Hello, my name is Aimi Akashi.” She bowed. “Just like Madam, I got into Holmes with The Red-Headed League. So, I recommend that book to our guests as well. Also, as side jobs, I keep Japan’s culture alive through art, and research Russian culture. My main job is researching Russia’s Holmes culture. Today, I brought a film reel from a Holmes screening in Russia. It comes with my translation notes.” She looked at the fitting room with red curtains that was set up by the windows. “I also brought Holmes merchandise sold in Russia. Later, there’ll be an auction for all of the items we brought. Half of the proceeds will go to the club’s operating fund, and the other half will be donated to volunteer organizations. We look forward to your bids.” She bowed again.

The members clapped and expressed their interest in bidding.

“Next, our only member who also belongs to London’s Holmes Club, Makabe,” continued the emcee.

The man in his forties who was sitting next to Akashi stood up and said, “Hello, I’m Makabe. My side job has me going to England often, so I’m registered with the London branch as well. Our numbers in Japan have stagnated, but London is still going strong. I hope the WJSHC will get an influx of new members too. Also, I brought lots of Holmes merchandise from London. Please bid on anything that catches your eye.”

The guests seemed more starry-eyed than the members, wondering what London’s Holmes merchandise would be like. The club members were probably less intrigued because they’d already gone on pilgrimages to London themselves.

The next person to stand up was Sashihara, the professor from the University of Foreign Studies that Holmes was talking to earlier. “Hello, my name is Sashihara. Today I brought a Holmes-related item that I won at an auction in America, but unfortunately, it’s ‘view-only.’ I apologize, but I don’t want to give it up.” He seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Boooooo!” Okawara shouted with a mischievous grin.

“Please stop your blatant booing, Okawara,” responded Professor Sashihara. Everyone laughed. “Anyway, my recommendation to our guests would have to be A Study in Scarlet. It’s the first book in the series, and it was coincidentally my gateway into the world of Holmes. I got engrossed after that, and nowadays I have a habit of making the Holmes pose.” He grinned and made Sherlock Holmes’s thinking pose, bringing his hands together in front of his face. The other members made the same pose and laughed. “I’m happy to see so many guests today,” he continued. “Even if you’re put off by our love for Holmes, I hope you’ll watch us with a warm heart.” He smiled kindly and bowed.

The members’ friendly introductions continued. Eventually it was Holmes’s turn.

“Next is Yagashira, who even goes by the nickname ‘Holmes’ here,” said the emcee. Holmes nodded and stood up. From the comments on his looks, I could tell that the female guests were blushing.

“Hello, I’m Kiyotaka Yagashira. When I was little, I was nicknamed ‘Holmes’ because of the way my surname is written and the fact that I was good at quiz questions. I actually didn’t read Holmes until after I received that nickname. I decided to start from the first book, A Study in Scarlet, and before I knew it, I’d read all sixty stories that comprise the Sherlockian scripture.”

Wow, apparently they call these books “scripture.”

“When I finished reading them, it sunk in that I’d been nicknamed ‘Holmes,’ and I remember being very happy about that.”

So that’s how he feels about it... It’s actually my first time hearing that.

“Holmes has a superhuman aspect, but he’s by no means perfect or a saint—he lacks knowledge in literature and astronomy, and he gets involved in shady business. That human side of him is part of what makes him so great, right? I’m rarely able to attend these club meetings, but when I do, I love the enthusiasm. I’m looking forward to the rest of the day.” He smiled and placed his hand on his chest, making the women swoon. Just like the butler, Nishizawa said, he’s going to be great at attracting new members.

Sugiura, Okawara, the Uchiumi couple, Nishizawa, and Azuma introduced themselves as well. After everyone was done, Azuma proceeded to the next topic, saying, “The WJSHC meets once every two months to share our findings. Of course, since it’s Holmes-related research, we occasionally go a bit overboard, but both the presenters and the listeners enjoy it very much. Now, since today is a special occasion and we have many guests, we’d like to discuss something that doesn’t require any prior knowledge of Sherlock Holmes. I’d like to call up Mr. and Mrs. Uchiumi, who met each other through our club.” She looked at the couple.

The wife stood up and said, “Today, for our guests, I’d like to talk about Conan Doyle, who the general population calls the author of Sherlock Holmes.” She bowed and everyone clapped.

What does she mean by the general population calling him the author of Sherlock Holmes? I tilted my head in confusion, as did the other guests.

She giggled, perhaps sensing our thoughts. “We Sherlockians consider Watson to be the storyteller of Holmes’s deeds. We see Doyle as a proxy that worked with the publisher.”

“Oh,” the guests said, nodding. One of them timidly raised their hand and asked, “Um, I once heard that Sherlockians get upset if you pronounce it like ‘Waht-son’ instead of ‘Wot-son’...”

The members exchanged looks and laughed, shaking their heads.

“Don’t worry, that’s just a matter of accents.”

“Right. People pronounce it different ways depending on where they grew up.”

“I’m not sure about other Sherlockians, but here at the WJSHC, we accept both pronunciations.”

The guests nodded, looking relieved. It seemed that the people here were very open-minded.

“Now then, back to the topic,” the wife continued. “I’d like to talk about the ‘publisher proxy’ Conan Doyle, known to the masses as the creator of Sherlock Holmes, and what the public knows about him. As I’m sure many of you are aware of, Doyle was an ophthalmologist. He opened his office in March 1891.”

“Oh?” The guests murmured, including me. I vaguely knew that he was a doctor, but I didn’t know he was an eye doctor.

“Doyle rented a room at 23 Montague Place, where he lived while working at his office from 10 a.m. until 4 p.m. However, he never got a single patient, so he had time to write on the side. Doyle had been writing stories and sending them to publishers ever since he was a student, but he had no success. He was absolutely confident in his historical novels and A Study in Scarlet, which the publishers did buy, but they didn’t make waves at the time.”

That was surprising to me because I’d assumed that the Holmes series had been popular from the start.

“Doyle stopped writing for a time after opening his office, but one day, he caught influenza. His narrow escape from death made him realize that he truly wanted to write after all, and so he took up the pen again. He wrote a series of short stories about his existing protagonist, Holmes, planning to send them to a general-interest monthly magazine called the Strand Magazine. His plan was a brilliant success, and the editor-in-chief paid him thirty-five pounds for each story. That was how Doyle’s career took off... Public speaking is a bit nerve-racking for me, so I’ll let my husband take over now.” The wife sat down, placing her hand on her chest in relief.

The husband smiled cheerfully and stood up. “Allow me to continue, then.” Everyone clapped again. “Doyle successfully signed an agreement with the Strand Magazine. The first story in the series, A Scandal in Bohemia, was published in the July issue of the magazine. This one was wildly popular from the get-go. The six stories were published monthly. August was The Red-Headed League, September was A Case of Identity, and after that came The Boscombe Valley Mystery, The Five Orange Pips, and The Man with the Twisted Lip. The incredible popularity of the series brought Doyle both fame and wealth. However, the state of his clinic hadn’t changed, so he quit the medical field a mere three months after opening the office, becoming a full-time writer. In short, the Holmes series wasn’t popular from the very beginning. It only saw success after the Strand Magazine picked it up.”

The guests watched the husband with interest, while the members nodded in affirmation.

“However, Doyle himself wanted to write full-blown historical novels. The publisher and the readers craved more Holmes content, and all of the offers that came his way were for the Holmes series. No matter how many times he declined them, they just kept coming. In order to force the publisher to give up, he said, ‘If you pay me one thousand pounds, I’ll write twelve more Holmes stories.’ It was a ridiculous price—adjusted for inflation, around twenty-five million yen today. He assumed the publisher would leave him alone after that, but they gladly paid up. Thus, Doyle was forced to write more Holmes.”

“Wow...” we murmured.

“Then, Doyle thought, ‘Even when I finish writing these, the persistent offers are still going to continue. I want to write other things. Oh, I know—I’ll kill off Holmes.’ That is why, in The Final Problem, Holmes and Professor Moriarty fall into the depths of the Reichenbach Falls...” the husband said in a sad tone.

I knew that Holmes was thought to be dead after falling into a waterfall with his archenemy, Professor Moriarty, but I didn’t know it had that kind of backstory.

“Doyle thought he’d be free from the relentless offers after that, but instead he was faced with an unimaginable number of complaints and extreme reactions. A funeral for Holmes was held in front of his house, and he received threats saying he’d be killed if he didn’t revive Holmes.”

That’s insane. I gulped.

“Nevertheless, Doyle refrained from writing Holmes for the next eight years.” He sighed.

Maybe the excessive desire for more Holmes only made Doyle even more stubborn.

“However, after eight years, he wrote a new Holmes story—The Hound of the Baskervilles. Perhaps he caved to the pressure. This story didn’t mean that Holmes was revived though—it took place before the Reichenbach Falls scene. The readers rejoiced and rejoiced, while also grieving that it didn’t confirm that Holmes was alive.”

I can understand how the fans felt. They were happy to be able to read a new story, but the fact that he died didn’t change. The more interesting the story, the sadder they’d feel.

“Between the tempting offers, the readers’ desire for Holmes’s revival, and his mother’s advice, Doyle must’ve decided that he had no choice but to give the people what they wanted. He brought Holmes back to life in a new story called The Adventure of the Empty House. Ten years had passed since The Final Problem. When I imagine how happy the fans must’ve been at the time, I feel joy as well. Now that I’m an adult, I do understand how Doyle felt. But as a fan, I’m still grateful that he brought the Holmes series back. That said, we still consider Watson to be the real author. Doyle was a proxy.” He grinned mischievously.

The wife stood up and said, “That concludes our story of Conan Doyle, the publisher proxy.” The couple bowed, and everyone applauded.

Creators might all go through the same things, no matter the era. Works that don’t see the light of day could soar under a different publisher. What an author wants to write doesn’t necessarily match what the readers want from them. And regardless of how the creator feels, the fans will wait endlessly for their work, to the point of shedding tears... I clapped, moved by the struggles that both sides went through.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Uchiumi,” Azuma said. “Does anyone have any questions for them, or anything to add to the topic?” She looked around at the audience. “Umm, I know I’m the emcee, but do you mind if I tell another story?” she asked hesitantly.

“Go ahead,” everyone encouraged her.

Azuma cleared her throat and said, “The Uchiumis told us about how Doyle once killed Holmes and eventually revived him. Personally, I love Holmes’s revival story, The Adventure of the Empty House. If any of our guests have read it, could you please raise your hands?”

The guests looked around at each other and shrank in their seats. Only a few people raised their hands—I wasn’t one of them.

“Ah, there’s no need to be ashamed,” said Azuma with a smile. “The people who haven’t read it must be interested in how Holmes came back after falling into the waterfall with Moriarty, right?”

The guests nodded. I certainly was interested.

“In that case, allow me to tell you about The Adventure of the Empty House. The story takes place three years after Holmes fell into the waterfall—despite being released ten years later, the setting is only three years later. Holmes’s best friend, Watson, has divorced his wife and now lives a lonesome life. One day, Watson comes across a murder case. He tries to copy Holmes and solve it, but has no idea who the culprit could’ve been. He visits the house where the murder took place and runs into an old man, knocking the man’s books to the ground. Watson picks up the books and apologizes, but the man snaps at him and leaves. Watson returns home without making any progress in the case, but the old man visits him to apologize for his earlier behavior. The man introduces himself as a local bookseller. He looks at the bookshelf behind Watson, says, ‘That shelf looks empty,’ and offers to sell him some of his books. Watson turns around to look at the shelf, and when he turns back, the old man has been replaced with Holmes, who was supposed to be dead. That’s right—Holmes was disguised as the old man. Watson is so shocked that he literally faints. I adore this story because it’s overflowing with Watson’s love for Holmes,” Azuma said in a somewhat excited tone. The members nodded in agreement.

But as someone who hadn’t read it, I wanted to know why Holmes was alive after supposedly falling into the waterfall and dying. And if he was alive, then why did he hide himself for three years?

One of the guests raised their hand and asked timidly, “I do plan on reading it soon, but I still want to know... How did Holmes survive?”

“It was thought that Holmes fell into the Reichenbach Falls with Moriarty, but it was actually only Moriarty who fell. Holmes knew ‘baritsu,’ a fictional Japanese martial art, and used it to toss Moriarty into the falls. It’s unknown exactly what kind of martial art ‘baritsu’ was supposed to be, but at any rate, it was a Japanese combat technique and he didn’t fall in himself. However, there were many people who were targeting his life, including Moriarty’s henchmen. In order to shake off his pursuers, he pretended to die and concealed himself by traveling around the world. Well, I won’t spoil it any further than that. This is where Holmes’s story begins again, and as Uchiumi said, the fans at the time must’ve been incredibly moved. I wish I could’ve lived in that era— Ah, sorry, I’m getting heated up. That’s all from me. Thank you for listening.” Azuma bowed.

Everyone smiled and clapped. Have they rubbed off on me? For some reason, I feel like reading a Holmes book as soon as I get home today.

4

“Now then, I think we should take a break before moving on to the item showcase and auction,” said the emcee. “Tea has been prepared, so please make yourself at home. The restroom is outside to the right.”

Everyone got up and stretched. Some people left to go to the restroom.

“Aoi, has their enthusiasm put you off?” Holmes asked, peering into my face.

“Not at all.” I shook my head. “I thought I knew Sherlock Holmes after watching some movies and reading a few books, but there’s actually a lot I don’t know, so it was very interesting. It’s also kind of charming how much everyone loves him.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’ve read A Study in Scarlet, but I don’t remember it that well. What does the ‘Scarlet’ in the title mean in the first place?”

“Ah, apparently in the West, the color scarlet represents ‘sin’ or ‘crime.’”

“Oh, I see.”

As Holmes and I were talking, the butler, Nishizawa, rushed over to us and said, “Holmes, I need a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Can you change into this outfit?” She showed us the hat and beige coat she was clutching to her chest.

“These are...a deerstalker hat and an Inverness coat, right? A Holmes outfit?”

“Yes, Madam and I are submitting this Holmes costume to the auction. It’ll look better if a handsome young man wears it, right?”

“In other words, you’re telling me to cosplay as Holmes.” Holmes grimaced.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re the WJSHC’s very own Holmes! Besides, you said earlier that I could ask you for anything, right?” She pouted.

Holmes chuckled, resigning himself to his fate. “All right. I’m your handmaid today, so I’ll wear it.” He tried to take the coat and hat from her, but she started walking, saying, “It’s okay, I’ll hold it. Come with me to the back room outside the hall.”

Sugiura, who had been listening to the conversation, leaned in, a twinkle in his eyes. “Holmes is gonna cosplay Holmes, huh? If he doesn’t want to, I don’t mind taking his place!”

“That won’t do,” Nishizawa quickly retorted. “If Holmes is Sherlock, then you have to stand next to him as Watson.”

“What?!” Sugiura exclaimed. “I-I’m offended. My initials are S.H., you know? I’m the WJSHC’s other Holmes!”

The people nearby burst out laughing.

“Aoi, please wait here,” Holmes said.

“Okay.” I nodded. Holmes is going to cosplay Sherlock. I’m kind of excited to see it.

I watched Holmes leave the hall with Nishizawa. Not knowing what to do by myself, I flipped through the pamphlet I’d received when we checked in.

“The tea and cakes are ready,” Akashi announced.

“Please come to the long table next to the wall,” Azuma added.

I looked up from the pamphlet. Since I’m here, I might as well. I stood up and headed over with the other guests.

Wedgwood cups and saucers were laid out on the table, along with small tea cakes, scones, and cookies—some of which had probably been brought by the other members. The two receptionists were pouring drinks for people. I accepted a cup of black tea while admiring the assortment of English snacks. I gently lifted the cup to my mouth, feeling nervous about the expensive china. “Oh, this is delicious,” I murmured.

Madam, who was nearby, smiled happily and said, “I’m glad to hear that. It’s my favorite variety of tea.”

“Is the tea Wedgwood too?” I asked.

“Yes, I was a big fan of England before I became a Sherlock Holmes fan. There was originally a Japanese-style house on this lot, but when we bought it, I asked my husband if we could change everything to English style, and he went along with my unreasonable request.”

Oh, so this was originally a Japanese-style house, but her husband had it rebuilt as an English-style manor. And judging from her accent, she might’ve moved here from outside Kansai.

“Oh, Sugiura, can you open the curtains?” Akashi asked, pointing at the bright red curtains surrounding the makeshift fitting room.

“It’s already time, huh? All right.” Sugiura nodded and walked over. He spun the reel that was attached to the curtains and they swiftly rose up, revealing a three-tiered round table. Various items were arranged on it, including the Russian film reel, a teddy bear wearing a Sherlock Holmes costume, wine glasses with “S.H.” engraved into them, and Holmes pin badges. There were also framed prints of paintings.

I think these paintings are... “Vernet and Greuze?” I murmured.

“Huh, no wonder you work at Kura,” Sugiura said, impressed. “Yep, these posters are paintings by the French artists Horace Vernet and Jean-Baptiste Greuze.”

“Um, why are they with the Holmes items?” I tilted my head.

Matsuda, who was standing nearby, came over and said, “Sherlock Holmes’s grandmother was Vernet’s younger sister.”

“H-Hey, I was going to explain that!” Sugiura said, panicking. “Don’t swoop in and steal my good deeds.”

“Good deeds?” Matsuda laughed. “While we’re at it, the Greuze painting is because Professor Moriarty collected his works.”

“You did it again!” Sugiura facepalmed.

I giggled at them and looked at the posters. Maybe it’s because of these detailed character backgrounds that the fans feel like Sherlock Holmes was a real person.

I looked back at the table and noticed a brown envelope labeled “Sashihara — View-only.” Whatever was inside must’ve been what he bought at the auction in America. What could it be? I wondered briefly, before my love for cute mascots pulled my attention back to the teddy bear wearing the Sherlock Holmes costume. It was really cute. I didn’t want to say that out loud though, because knowing Holmes, he’d probably be considerate and bid on it for me.

“Wh-What’s that?!” Azuma shrieked. “Look!” She pointed outside.

Everyone looked out the window and squinted, not realizing immediately why Azuma had screamed. Because of the flowers in the way, it took me some time to realize too—but when I did, I was shocked as well, and shouted, “Th-The cherry blossom tree!” A large branch had fallen to the ground.

“Wh-Why?!” Madam exclaimed, bewildered. Her face was pale.

The cherry blossom tree was perfectly fine earlier. How could such a large branch fall without making a sound?

Confused, we went out to the garden. There was a white sheet of paper nailed to the tree trunk that wasn’t there before. The paper had drawings of stick figures in strange poses—most of them were holding up their arms, and one of them was upside down. There were seven in total, and it almost looked like they were making fun of us. I frowned at them suspiciously.

“Th-The dancing men...” the members murmured, faces pale.

“The dancing men?” I repeated.

Sugiura gulped and nodded. “Y-Yes, The Dancing Men is the title of one of the short stories in the collection The Return of Sherlock Holmes. In the story, the stick figures—dancing men—are a cryptogram.”

“Holmes solved it using frequency analysis of letters in the alphabet,” Matsuda added.

“So this is some kind of code?” I asked, looking at the stick men again.

Okawara, the lawyer, walked to the front of the group and frowned. “I guess we should decipher this. The second from the left and the third from the right are the same. So are the third from the left and the two rightmost ones.”

“The ones on the right are ‘S,’” Sugiura said. “I remember that one because I’ve written my initials with the dancing men before.”

Which gives us “_ _ S _ _ S S.”

“The upside-down one at the start is ‘D,’ I believe,” Matsuda added, placing his hand on his chin. “The word ‘GOD’ comes up in The Dancing Men, and I remember the last man being upside down.”

“D _ S _ _ S S.”

“The matching pair is ‘I,’” Akashi continued. “I’ve also written my name, ‘Aimi,’ with the dancing men before.”

I probably shouldn’t have been surprised by anything anymore, but it was still astonishing that these people even wrote their names with the code from the story.

Anyway, “D I S _ I S S.”

Okawara sighed and put his hand on his forehead. “Looks like we have our answer. The middle letter is ‘M,’ making the word ‘DISMISS.’ In other words...”

“It’s telling us to disperse,” Matsuda said in a low voice. Everyone fell silent.

Someone broke a branch off of Madam’s precious cherry tree and stuck a message on the trunk with dancing men telling us to “dismiss.” Why would someone be so cruel?

No one spoke a word as we stared at the cherry blossom tree for a while.

Suddenly, Madam burst into tears. “How could someone do this? I know it was selfish of me to ask to hold the party here... I knew you would’ve rather held the commemorative meeting in a grand hotel. Maybe it was arrogant of me to ask just because I couldn’t attend otherwise. But this tree is a memento of my husband! How could you break something so precious? How could you put such a crude message on it?” She looked down, covering her face with her hands.

Akashi put her hand on Madam’s back and said, “That’s not true, Madam! We don’t think you’re selfish.”

Madam’s sobs rang out across the quiet garden.

“She’s right, Madam,” Sugiura added. “Some people did think it was inconvenient, but we’re all happy to be able to use such a nice house.” Sugiura’s a really honest person. Even though he’s trying to console her, he still admitted that some people thought it was an inconvenient location.

“Who would do such a thing in the first place?” Matsuda asked, crossing his arms. The tree had been fine up until the party started. No one left their seat during the speeches either. So it must’ve happened during the break.

“The people who left the hall were President Hiraoka, Makabe, and Sashihara, right?” Azuma put her hand on her chin as she spoke, digging through her memory.

“Holmes and Nishizawa too,” added the Uchiumi couple in unison.

None of the people listed were here with us. Meanwhile, Madam was still looking at the ground. The guests were standing farther back, faces pale.

Akashi grimaced as if she couldn’t take it anymore. “What do they even mean by ‘dismiss’? Are they telling us to break up the party? Or the WJSHC as a whole?”

“Either way, they must be unhappy with the way we’re doing things, right?” someone commented.

Everyone fell silent again. It seemed like they were coming up with suspects in their heads.

“What if it’s President Hiraoka? He’s always saying, ‘It was nice how much more active this club was in the past.’ Maybe he’s not satisfied with us now.”

“What about Makabe, who’s in the London club too? He might think we’re too casual compared to the one over there.”

“Oh, and Holmes. He’s a nice guy, but I can’t help but think he’s hiding something. I can’t tell what he’s really thinking.”

“W-Wait!” I shouted, taken aback. “It’s true that Holmes is blackhearted, extremely two-faced, suspicious in some ways, and wicked at times. But he’d never harm someone’s treasure, and he’d never do something so evil!”

Everyone gasped and stopped talking. A cheerful voice came from behind me, saying, “Thank you, Aoi. But as always, that was a bit harsh.”

I whirled around and saw Holmes wearing the Inverness coat and deerstalker hat. He was also holding a pipe. After changing into the Holmes costume, he must’ve returned to the hall only to see that no one was there. Then he came outside looking for us. The Sherlock Holmes cosplay suited him so well that everyone, members and guests alike, stared at him in awe, forgetting about the argument.

Behind Holmes were Nishizawa the butler, President Hiraoka, Makabe, and Professor Sashihara. They gaped at the scene, clearly wondering what happened.

“Madam’s precious tree had a branch broken off, and a cryptogram of dancing men was stuck to the trunk,” I explained.

Holmes silently walked up to the tree. After inspecting the paper nailed to the trunk, he crouched to look at the branch on the ground. I looked down at it again too. The fallen branch was cut diagonally, but part of it was jagged, as if it’d been broken off. It seemed like the culprit partially cut it with a saw first, and then pulled it off of the tree.

“Aoi, can you tell me everything you saw in the hall while I was gone?” Holmes asked, standing up.

“O-Okay.” I nodded.

5

As I was relaying to Holmes everything I’d seen, the club members inspected the cryptogram and the tree branch. There was a solemn mood in the air, as if we were at a crime scene investigation.

Madam, who’d been hanging her head until now, suddenly wailed, “Stop! Let’s just call off the party!”

“Madam...” Nishizawa, the butler, walked up to her with a sad look on her face. She then turned to everyone with a stern expression and declared, “I cannot believe that someone would harm Madam’s precious cherry blossom tree and nail such an insulting message to it. Sorry, but please go home, everyone.”

Everyone exchanged looks and nodded in understanding.

“I-It’s gone!” came Professor Sashihara’s voice from the hall.

“What?” someone asked.

We all ran to the hall to see Professor Sashihara standing frozen in shock. He was holding the brown envelope containing what he’d acquired in America.

“It’s empty,” he said, his face pale.

Madam’s tree was damaged, a malicious note was left, and Professor Sashihara’s “view-only” auction prize was gone. All of us stood still, lost for words.

“I see,” Holmes said. “Now it’s clear—the culprit caused this commotion so that they could steal Professor Sashihara’s treasure.” He looked around the hall, sighed, and crossed his arms.

“Sashihara, what did you bring?” President Hiraoka asked quietly.

“Documents inside a clear plastic sleeve,” Professor Sashihara answered. “Even the sleeve is gone.”

“This must’ve been the work of a member, not a guest!” Hiraoka exclaimed. “All of the members are still here. We can check everyone’s belongings to find out who stole your treasure. Everyone, show us your bags!”

The club members voluntarily opened their bags. Nishizawa and Sugiura checked the contents.

Holmes frowned. “I doubt a search will reveal anything. This was a carefully thought-out plan.”

“Does that mean it’s already been hidden?” someone asked.

“More importantly, who cut the tree, and how?” pressed another.

“Well,” Holmes began. “First, I’d like to focus on who cut the tree branch.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen to him.

“The tree was fine up until I left the hall to change into this costume. In other words, if my memory serves me correctly, we can assume that the branch was broken after I left.”

The guests looked doubtful about whether Holmes’s memory could be trusted, but the members didn’t object. They probably knew exactly how good it was.

“Nishizawa and I went to the back room, where I got changed behind a screen. She didn’t leave during that time. Meanwhile, President Hiraoka, Makabe, and Professor Sashihara seemed to be engaged in enthusiastic conversation in the corridor after using the restroom. Were you there the entire time?” Holmes asked.

President Hiraoka, Makabe, and Professor Sashihara all said, “Yes,” nodding firmly.

“C-Couldn’t they have snuck around to the garden from the corridor?” Sugiura asked hesitantly.

Nishizawa smiled wryly and shook her head. “Today, the doors were locked so that only the hall, corridor, and restrooms were accessible. There aren’t any windows in the corridor, and the restroom windows are so small that not even a child could fit through them.”

“Now that you mention it, the room that I changed in was originally locked too,” Holmes remarked. “All of the other rooms were locked to keep people to the garden, hall, and restroom, right?”

“Yes,” Nishizawa answered.

“As for the hall, from what Aoi told me, no one went outside until Azuma noticed the fallen branch and screamed,” Holmes continued.

“Yeah.” Everyone nodded.

“However, there was one person who did something slightly unusual.” Holmes walked up to the table holding the auction prizes and turned around to face us.

“Something unusual?” Everyone looked confused.

“Yes. I believe that that person cut down the tree branch without going outside.”

“H-How could they do that without going outside?” President Hiraoka looked around the hall, bewildered.

“The one who did it was...”

Everyone gulped and waited for his next words. The atmosphere was unbelievably tense.

“...you, Sugiura.” Holmes pointed at Sugiura.

“Wh-Wh-Whaaat?!” Sugiura pointed at himself, his eyes wide open. “W-Wait, I did no such thing! I don’t even know how I could do that without leaving the hall.”

“Indeed, you did it unknowingly.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Holmes!” Sugiura held his head in his hands.

Holmes placed his hand on the reel attached to the makeshift fitting room. “Aoi told me that you turned this reel to open the curtains.”

“Y-Yeah, and?”

“This incident made use of this fitting room where the auction items are kept. The cherry tree branch appeared to have been notched in advance—a diagonal incision on the underside, likely made by a saw. Then, piano wire was strung from the branch to the pulley on the ceiling of this fitting room, passing by the light posts and whatnot in between. The piano wire was wrapped around the pulley so that when someone rotated this reel, the wire would be pulled in, breaking the tree branch. The flags in the garden prevented the wire from being noticed.”

“O-Oh, so that’s why it took so much force to turn it. I thought it must’ve been rusty.” Sugiura’s eyes widened and he leaned forward. “That means it was only me by chance, right?” he implored.

“Yes, it just happened to be you. I imagine the ‘dancing men’ cryptogram was nailed onto the tree before the party but after everyone had entered the hall. No outsider could’ve possibly pulled off this level of preparation.”

Everyone gasped.

After a pause, Holmes turned and said, “Nishizawa,” looking at the butler.

Nishizawa flinched.

“You said to Sugiura, ‘I make sure not to carry things when there’s a man around.’ However, when I tried to carry this costume that I’m wearing right now, you didn’t let me. Why was that?”

Nishizawa gasped, averted her gaze, and bit her lip.

“Were you hiding something under the costume in your hands?” Holmes continued.

Everyone looked surprised.

“Th-That means Sashihara’s documents are...” President Hiraoka trailed off, eyes wide in disbelief.

Holmes nodded. “Yes, Nishizawa has them.”

Everyone blinked in shock and looked at Nishizawa, who was casting her eyes down with a grave expression on her face.

“Nishizawa,” Holmes continued. “When you brought me this costume from the fitting room, you’d already removed Professor Sashihara’s documents from the envelope. Then you went with me to the back room and hid the documents while I was changing behind the partition.”

“So my documents are in the back room?” Professor Sashihara exclaimed.

“They could be, but I don’t think so. It’s possible that the room would’ve been searched after the documents were discovered to be missing.”

“Where are they, then?”

Everyone furrowed their brows.

Holmes looked at Nishizawa’s kimono. “Nishizawa, I’m guessing you hid the clear plastic sleeve inside your kimono sash. Am I wrong?” He leaned forward slightly.

Nishizawa looked down with a pained face.

Madam came towards us, wheeling her wheelchair. “Please don’t blame her, Holmes. I asked her to do this. I’m the mastermind.” She stopped next to Nishizawa.

Everyone blinked in confusion.

Madam cast her eyes down and explained, “Since I was one of the organizers, I knew in advance what Professor Sashihara was bringing. When I found out, my heart throbbed—I wanted it oh so badly. So I asked Nishizawa to help me. I was actually lying when I said that the cherry blossom tree was my treasure. My husband did cherish it though. When we moved here, I said I wanted to cut it down so that we could make an English garden. My husband got angry at me, even though he was normally kind. I do like cherry blossoms, but I really didn’t like having that tree in my lovely English garden. But then I had an evil thought—‘If I call it my treasure, a branch breaking off will cause a stir, right?’ Sashihara, and everyone else, I’m truly sorry.” Madam bowed deeply.

Professor Sashihara shook his head and said gently, “Ah, well, as a fellow Sherlockian, I know painfully well how you felt.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

Despite his response, the hall was filled with an awkward tension.

Suddenly, Holmes clapped his hands loudly and said, “Madam, that was a spectacular performance. Everyone else too.”

“Huh?” Everyone’s eyes widened.

“This was a short play that the WJSHC put on for our guests. That’s why I’m wearing this costume. Right, Sugiura?” Holmes glanced at Sugiura.

“Oh, uh, y-yeah! We call it ‘The Case of the Cherry Tree Branch.’ Did you enjoy it?” Sugiura continued, flustered.

The members exchanged looks and nodded. They stood in a row and bowed as if they were performing a curtain call.

The shaken guests quickly brightened up and cheered, breaking out in applause.

“W-Wow, that was exciting!”

“I should’ve known it was an act when they used a pulley and reel to cut down the branch!”

“It’s just like a Sherlock Holmes club to do this!”

The applause got louder. Madam and Nishizawa looked bewildered and bowed deeply, seeming sincerely apologetic.

“I really am sorry,” Madam said again.

“Also, here...” Nishizawa took the plastic sleeve out of her kimono sash.

“Professor Sashihara, can you tell us what this darn treasure is already?” Okawara asked impatiently.

“Oh dear,” Professor Sashihara said with a laugh, taking the plastic sleeve from Nishizawa. “Last month, I visited a friend who lives in America. He invited me to an auction that was being held for the estate of a millionaire who passed away. Initially, I only attended out of mild curiosity. The deceased had a wide range of interests and collected paintings, antiques, jewelry, old books, and various other works of art. However, the family wasn’t interested in those things and wanted money instead. At that auction, there was an unpublished Conan Doyle manuscript.”

Everyone’s eyes lit up—not just the members, but the guests as well.

“A-An unpublished Doyle manuscript?” a guest exclaimed in disbelief. “Is that even possible?”

“It sounds unbelievable, but there really is a Doyle manuscript that went missing,” Professor Sashihara explained. “It’s called The Narrative of John Smith, and it’s not part of the Holmes series. He mailed it to the publisher, but it went missing before it was delivered. Well, a rewritten version was published later on, but anyway—the sellers were as skeptical as you all are. I doubted the manuscript’s authenticity too, but when I looked at it, I was stunned to see that it was written on nineteenth-century paper in Doyle’s handwriting.”

“He studies historical texts,” Holmes added.

“Oh?” everyone murmured.

Professor Sashihara shrugged, embarrassed. “Yes, that’s right. I don’t appraise antiques like Yagashira Holmes does, but I do something similar for old manuscripts. You’d be surprised how interesting historical documents can be—to give an example, in 16th- and 17th-century England, unlawful publications were printed in other countries in order to avoid government censorship. Some of these were marked ‘Printed in London’ as a way of provoking the government, and even historians are occasionally fooled by them. In order to determine where they were printed, we examine the way they were printed. Extremely poor quality printing was done in London, while clean printing work came from the Netherlands. Back then, England’s printing technique was behind the times, so they couldn’t produce high-quality work. So if you come across high-quality printing that’s marked ‘Printed in London,’ you should suspect that it was actually printed in the Netherlands, which had the advanced technique. We can also glean much information from the paper. This is touched upon in A Scandal in Bohemia, where paper transparency becomes a major clue—”

President Hiraoka raised his hand and said apologetically, “Sashihara, this is all very interesting, but could you continue this later? Sorry to interrupt, but we want to hear about the Doyle manuscript right now.”

“Right, my bad. Back to what I was saying.” Professor Sashihara grinned cheekily. “As you can see, I work with old documents, so when I saw the auctioned manuscript’s paper, I thought, ‘What if?’ However, if I stated right then and there that it could be authentic, then the price would immediately skyrocket. Instead, I said, ‘I’m a Sherlockian, so I want it even if it’s not real’ and won the bid. Fortunately there weren’t any other Holmes fans at the auction.” He placed his hand on his chest, letting out a sigh of relief. “This manuscript is an unfinished story about Holmes’s comeback. If it’s real, then it could be a scrapped story that was written before The Adventure of the Empty House. However, even I couldn’t help but be skeptical, so I wanted to have Yagashira Holmes take a look at it. He’s an appraiser, after all.”

I nodded, finally understanding the situation. The club members exchanged glances, as if sympathizing with Professor Sashihara’s desperation to get his hands on an unpublished Sherlock Holmes manuscript.

“May I take a look now, then?” Holmes asked, walking up to Professor Sashihara and holding out his hand. He was wearing his white appraisal gloves.

“Please do.” Professor Sashihara handed him the clear plastic sleeve.

“I was shown pictures of this manuscript ahead of time,” Holmes said, carefully taking the faded pages out of the sleeve. That must be what the QR code earlier was for. He looked at the manuscript and frowned with a knowing look. “It’s the spitting image of Doyle’s handwriting, but it’s an imitation.”

“Which means...?”

“It’s fake,” Holmes declared.

“I see.” Professor Sashihara slumped his shoulders.

“Wait, you can’t write it off so quickly,” Sugiura said, leaning in. “The handwriting is identical, right?”

“Yes, and when I was looking at the pictures earlier, I read through the story,” said Holmes. “It takes place three months after Holmes fell into the Reichenbach Falls. Watson can’t believe that his superhuman friend would die like that, so he comes up with a work-related excuse to go to Switzerland and look for him. He hears that someone bearing a close resemblance to Holmes was spotted in a Swiss village and immediately rushes over. Sure enough, Holmes is there—but he has amnesia. Watson asks around and discovers that an elderly couple found him at the riverbank and rescued him. When he regained consciousness, he had no memories. The elderly couple had just lost their son, so they took Holmes in and treated him like their own son.”

“Ah,” the audience murmured.

“Even without memories, Holmes is as perceptive as ever. The moment he sees Watson, he successfully guesses that he’s a doctor and says, ‘I know you were once my friend.’ Watson is happy to be reunited with Holmes, but at the same time, he’s sad that he’s been forgotten. He considers staying with Holmes for a while to try and cure his amnesia. One day, Holmes declares that the elderly couple’s son’s death wasn’t an accident—it was murder. As he’s explaining the case, the culprit grabs him by the collar and slams his head against the wall. Holmes crouches on the ground, and when he lifts his head back up, he has a different look in his eyes—his memories have returned. Watson immediately senses that the old Holmes is back. Upon seeing Watson, Holmes says, ‘Hello, Watson. Long time no see.’ Watson tears up and says, ‘Welcome back, Holmes.’ It’s an exciting, emotional scene, right? Then Holmes proceeds to solve the case with his usual sharp wit, and the manuscript ends there.”

“Ahh,” the audience murmured. Some of them placed their hands on their foreheads, as if lamenting that the story wasn’t canon.

“The reason why I think this manuscript is fake is that the handwriting contains no sign of emotion. For example, the scene where Holmes regains his memories—normally, a writer’s excitement would show in their handwriting at least a little bit. However, the handwriting in this manuscript is completely the same throughout. The writer was suppressing their emotions and concentrating on replicating Doyle’s penmanship. In other words, they likely wrote this story elsewhere first, and when they were done, they copied it in Doyle’s handwriting. This is a very arduous, time-consuming task. But even though the story would’ve been complete, this manuscript isn’t, which implies that they stopped during the copying stage. Do you know what this means?” Holmes asked, looking at us.

Azuma tilted her head. “The person died?” she said quietly.

“That’s certainly a possibility. Another one is that they didn’t need to finish the manuscript anymore.”

Everyone’s eyes widened in realization.

One of the members clapped and said, “Because...Doyle revived Holmes?”

Holmes nodded. “Yes. I suspect that a zealous Sherlockian decided that if they couldn’t read more Holmes, they’d write their own revival story. I doubt they wanted to deceive the public—it’d be akin to what we call fanfiction these days. People have been exhibiting their talents through derivative works all throughout history. I believe that the writer wrote this manuscript for their own satisfaction. However, since Doyle revived Holmes, they didn’t care about their own fanfiction anymore. I’m sure they picked up The Adventure of the Empty House with joy. In conclusion, this is a derivative work written by someone who loved Holmes very much,” Holmes explained, holding the manuscript with care.

“Ohhh,” everyone said, nodding.

“I see,” Sashihara said. “If that’s the case, then I don’t regret bidding on it. But I would’ve liked to read the ending too.” He sounded slightly sad.

“Same,” everyone else agreed, chuckling.

6

After that, the auction went smoothly. Naturally, bids started at 221 yen. Everyone loved Holmes’s costume. There were Sherlock Holmes quiz tournaments too, one for the guests and one for the club members. The members’ rabid enthusiasm was both fearsome and hilarious. Prizes and souvenirs were handed out, lots of delicious cakes, cookies, and scones were had, and the commemorative 221st Assembly of the West Japan Sherlock Holmes Club came to an end.

“Thanks for bringing me here today, Holmes,” I said. “I had a lot of fun.” I bowed, holding a teddy bear in a Sherlock costume snugly in my arms.

When the auction began, the members said that Holmes could buy any one of the items for a flat 2,221 yen, as a reward for his efforts.

“I’ll take you up on that offer, then,” he said. He picked up the teddy bear and handed it to me, saying, “This is for you, Aoi.”

I accepted it, surprised, confused, and grateful all at the same time. “Th-Thank you.” I bowed. Holmes must’ve sensed that I wanted it.

“Thanks so much for today, Holmes,” Sugiura said, grabbing Holmes’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “We managed to end the party on a peaceful note because of you.”

President Hiraoka and the other club members nodded in agreement.

“Not at all,” Holmes replied. “You did well too, Sugiura, quickly going along with my sudden act.”

“Nah, it was no big deal.” Sugiura scratched his head bashfully.

Okawara suddenly burst out laughing, as though he just recalled what happened. “Man, ‘The Case of the Cherry Tree Branch’ was an awful name.”

“Hey, that’s just rude!” Sugiura shouted angrily. “I couldn’t come up with a good title on the spot. I’d like to see you come up with something better.”

“Hmm.” President Hiraoka folded his arms. “How about ‘A Motive in Scarlet’?”

“Ooh!” the members exclaimed.

“I admit defeat,” Sugiura said, placing his hand on his forehead. Everyone burst out laughing.

We all bowed and left the Mamiya manor. After passing through the gate, we turned back and saw Madam sitting in her wheelchair, looking at us. Upon making eye contact, she bowed deeply. We bowed back.

“They were really lenient, huh?” I murmured as Holmes and I walked to the parking area. Madam caused such a commotion just because she really wanted the manuscript, but the club forgave her and made the party a success.

“As Professor Sashihara said, fellow fans and collectors can sympathize with her,” Holmes replied. “I don’t have much of a collector’s mindset myself, but if there were really an unpublished Holmes manuscript, I’d do anything to read it.”

“In other words, you’re like comrades, right?”

“Yes, you could say that.” Holmes nodded.

“They were all great people,” I said. “Fan gatherings are fun, huh? I want to try reading the Holmes series now, starting from A Study in Scarlet. I’d like to attend another meeting after reading them.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Let’s attend again sometime.”

“Okay.”

We looked at each other and smiled before resuming our walk to the car.