Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper at 221B Baker Street, had served me delicious hot tea with scones and jam, and I then settled in to reading some old files.

That was when a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and before Mrs. Hudson could introduce the visitor, I saw a charming, rather breathless young woman, about twenty, fashionably dressed, almost bursting through the door, so hurried was she.

“You must help me, Mr. Holmes! She nearly shouted. There was no possibility of explaining to her that I was Dr. Watson, not Sherlock Holmes!