[Kensington and Chelsea – 128 King’s Road – Second Floor Master Bedroom] [Mr.
Sherlock Holmes] Sherlock received a strange letter.
It was strange because, under normal circumstances, no one would address a letter down to the level of “Second Floor Master Bedroom.” You couldn’t exactly expect the postman to deliver it straight into your bedroom, could you?
And yet, that letter had indeed been delivered to Sherlock’s bedroom.
That was the second reason it was strange.
The letter’s courier was an owl.
Yes, an owl.
Sherlock looked toward the top of the coat rack.
There stood a black-and-white Eurasian eagle-owl.
It was this very owl that had flown in through the second-floor window with the envelope in its beak, circled the room once, and then dropped the letter precisely into his hand.
It was practically supernatural.
Naturally, Sherlock had been astonished at first.
Anyone would be, faced with something like that.
But unlike most people, the excitement this event stirred in Sherlock quickly overtook his surprise.
He flipped the envelope over.
On the back was a dark red wax seal and a shield-shaped crest—quite striking.
But even more eye-catching than those was a large letter “H,” surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a serpent.
Despite the cramped space on the envelope, the four animals were not distorted in the least; each one was lifelike, as if about to leap off the paper.
Sherlock pulled a magnifying glass from a drawer and began to examine them with practiced care.
His gray eyes gleamed, and the slight tremor in his hands betrayed that his inner calm was not as steady as his outward demeanor.
Finally, Sherlock laughed out loud in delight.
“Finally, something worth getting excited about!
The local criminals have been way too lazy lately…” In 1991, as European integration accelerated, the member states of the European Communities had all quickened their pace in unison.
Rumors had it that by the end of the year, the European Community would pass formal treaties establishing the Economic and Monetary Union and the Political Union.
As one of the core member states, Britain—eager to showcase its former imperial glory and outshine its main rivals, France and Germany—had also intensified its efforts to maintain public order and stability.
In fact, by the late twentieth century, large-scale criminal organizations had all but vanished from Britain.
Only street gangs stubbornly clung to existence.
Against this backdrop, London, as the capital, bore the brunt of the pressure.
Under such a high-pressure crackdown, criminals had largely laid low and temporarily suspended operations.
On top of that, Sherlock had just recovered from a serious illness, and his parents had arranged for him to attend a preparatory school.
For a boy who craved excitement and loathed a quiet life, having to stay home and wait for school to start was tediously dull.
Until today.
Of course, despite his internal excitement, Sherlock carefully examined the envelope before opening it—a habit he had cultivated over the years.
“No stamp, emerald-green ink, parchment paper, excessively thick stock…
interesting.” From his observations, Sherlock had already reached some preliminary conclusions.
But he needed the letter’s contents to confirm them.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardty Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards) Dear Mr.
Holmes, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September.
We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress “…” Before reading the letter, Sherlock had considered many possibilities—but not this one.
Hogwarts?
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?
Grand Sorcerer?
So…
this was a letter of admission?
The content was so absurd that even the usually rational Sherlock was forced into deep contemplation.
As the letter stated, a second page followed the main body—a list of required supplies for school.
Sherlock’s eyes swept over it and immediately spotted things like a wand, spellbooks, and robes—items that only appeared in fantasy literature and films.
Books such as *The Standard Book of Spells* and *A History of Magic* even listed authors.
It was almost as if it were real.
After a moment of silence, Sherlock held the paper up to the light.
“Ha!” His eyes brightened.
If it had been any other child, they would probably have already believed everything in their excitement.
But eleven-year-old Sherlock Holmes was no ordinary child.
He was far more mature than his peers.
And he was a boy with an unshakable faith in science.
Magic?
How could something that only existed in legends possibly be real?
So this was definitely a prank.
An elaborately crafted envelope?
It could be forged.
The contents of the letter?
You could make that up with a little effort.
His address?
That was the easiest part—even less effort than inventing the letter’s content.
The only suspicious point was the owl that had delivered it.
Before this, Sherlock had never heard of owls doing such a thing; that job usually fell to their relatives—carrier pigeons.
But never hearing of it didn’t mean it was impossible.
If someone was willing to put in the effort, Sherlock thought it wasn’t beyond reach.
The real question was: would anyone actually go to that much trouble for something so pointless?
The answer was yes.
Because it had happened before.
Sherlock’s childhood dream had been to become a pirate.
That dream was admittedly peculiar, but not exactly unacceptable.
After all, it was practically a part of their national heritage.
It was around that time that Sherlock had received another letter.
Similar to this “letter of admission,” except back then it had been delivered by a regular postman.
The writer called himself Captain Jack.
In the letter, he claimed he was once a heroic pirate who roamed the seas with a crew, robbing the rich to feed the poor—a real force to be reckoned with in his day.
Unfortunately, he had been tricked by another villainous captain and lost his beloved pirate ship.
In the end, disheartened, he ended up on the streets.
He wrote to Sherlock because he saw in him the potential to become an excellent pirate.
So he made a decision that went against his ancestors: he would train Sherlock as his successor.
The goal was to defeat the bastard who had stolen his ship and reclaim everything he once had.
At first, Sherlock had refused.
But over time, Captain Jack proved himself to Sherlock through various means.
After all, Sherlock wasn’t an ordinary child.
Gaining his trust was no easy feat.
Throughout the process, Sherlock had tested and verified everything repeatedly, finding no flaws.
Everything checked out.
Yet just when Sherlock finally believed him and resolved to follow Captain Jack on an adventure, he was told it was all a scam.
That incident had hit Sherlock like a thunderbolt.
He took a deep breath.
No use dwelling on the past.
But a man doesn’t fall into the same trap twice.
Now, with sharper reasoning and analytical skills than his younger, more naïve self, and having learned from past mistakes, Sherlock wasn’t about to be fooled again.
So even though common sense told him that owls didn’t deliver mail, his previous experience showed that with enough effort—it wasn’t impossible to teach an owl to carry letters.
That person would go to any lengths to toy with his emotions.
Remembering that experience, Sherlock paced back and forth in his room.
Finally, he made a decision that wasn’t particularly difficult.
He took out paper and wrote quickly.
Dear Professor McGonagall, I am honored to receive the admission notice from your school and would be happy to attend.
However, neither I nor my family have ever heard of anything concerning “magic,” and I am unfamiliar with the preparations for enrollment.
If the school could arrange for a staff member to come and answer my questions, I would be most grateful.
Sincerely, Sherlock Holmes A smile crept onto Sherlock’s lips.
If you want excitement, you have to see it through.
The other side had made their move; he might as well play along.
Unexpectedly, no sooner had Sherlock finished writing than the owl, still perched on the coat rack, let out a hoot and flapped over to him.
So eager?
Sherlock tentatively held out his hand, and the owl immediately took the letter, spread its wings, and flew out the window.
Watching its flight posture and speed, Sherlock couldn’t help but marvel.
Given how well-trained this owl was, someone had really put a lot of effort into it.
That alone made it worth taking seriously.
Based on his understanding of that person, they wouldn’t give up so easily.
How would they respond this time?
Would they reply by letter to slowly earn his trust?
Or would they send someone to pose as a teacher from the magic school?
Or would they simply come out and bluntly declare it a hoax?
No, that last one seemed unlikely—both sides wanted to keep this game going.
Either way, Sherlock was looking forward to what would happen next.
At least…
this summer wouldn’t be boring.
But little did Sherlock expect that the response would come so quickly.
Three days after receiving the letter of admission, Sherlock was having breakfast with his parents.
Mrs.
Holmes picked up the newspaper, glanced at it, and exclaimed to her husband, “Taran, that burglary case has been solved—Sherlock was right, the culprit really was that one-armed man!” Mr.
Holmes smiled and looked at his son.
“I remember that case was three months ago.” Sherlock put a piece of bread into his mouth and said flatly, “Scotland Yard’s efficiency has always been like that—completely blind to the obvious.” “Scotland Yard” wasn’t a place name; it was the nickname for the Metropolitan Police Service.
It wasn’t located in Scotland, nor did it handle Scotland’s security.
The Metropolitan Police was responsible for maintaining public order and traffic across all of Greater London except the City of London.
Its old headquarters was at 4 Whitehall Place.
Because one of its back doors faced Scotland Yard, and that door happened to be the public entrance, over time “Scotland Yard” became synonymous with the Metropolitan Police.
Using a place name to refer to an institution was common enough—Fleet Street, 10 Downing Street, for example.
It wasn’t just Britain either.
Sherlock, who had a keen interest in detective work, knew about places like “Lubyanka,” “Six Gates,” and the “Seoul Detention Center.” Hearing Sherlock’s appraisal of Scotland Yard, Mr.
Holmes couldn’t help suggesting, “Sherlock, maybe you should become a detective someday!” Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer.
Just then, an eagle-owl flew straight in through the open window.