“I….I beg your pardon?” “I suspect we may find the situation looking quite different by then. Leave the lady’s valise here. Watson, kindly ensure it is not tampered with. Good day, Mr Darrow.” The solicitor looked stunned, but after some hesitation, he placed the Valise on the floor and departed, muttering to himself. I turned to Holmes. “You surely cannot solve this by waiting, Holmes?” He smiled faintly. “The temptation to explain, Watson, is ever present, but I must decline for now. However, I believe you may prepare your pen. You might have a tidy little case for your annals before the day is through.” With that, Holmes rose, took up a blank telegram form and after writing briefly, he rang for a boy and dispatched it. Then he lay back upon the sofa, eyes closed once more. I knew I would get no more explanation from Holmes so I turned back to my Medical Journal. Three hours had passed and I became so absorbed in the various aspects of the article that I almost forgot about the affair entirely. During that time, Holmes neither stirred nor spoke, save to fill his pipe once. At precisely half-past five, a knock came at the door. Mrs Hudson entered. “A lady to see you, sir. Her name is Miss Lillian Braddock.” “Excellent,” said Holmes. “Please show her in.” The woman who entered was perhaps thirty, finely dressed, with auburn hair, a pale face, and an anxious expression. She started at the sight of the bag on the floor. “My valise! Thank Heaven!” She turned to Holmes. “Sir, I believe there has been a terrible mix-up. I travelled today from Liverpool and brought my valise with me. It must have been identical in appearance to another in the carriage and I must have taken the wrong one by mistake.” “No doubt,” said Holmes, rising. “And did you, by any chance, glance inside the one you took?” “I did, but only briefly. It contained papers, many papers. I closed it at once. I had no idea what to do.” “I cannot tell you, Mr Holmes, what a fluster I was in until I received your telegram asking me to come to 221B Baker Street immediately.” “Indeed. And I thank you for doing so. Your bag is here,” Holmes said, handing it to her, “and the one you mistakenly took will also be returned to its rightful owner shortly.” “Thank you, Mr Holmes! I cannot tell you what a relief” She hesitated. “May I ask… how you knew where to find me?” In reply Holmes merely smiled “Never mind, I have many ways of finding people. Now Miss Braddock, let us not keep you from the rest of your evening.” Miss Braddock again thanked Holmes most graciously, collected her Valise, curtsied and withdrew, glowing with gratitude. Shortly thereafter, Mr Darrow returned, harried and perspiring. “I say, Mr Holmes! Do you have any news of my Valise?” “Indeed,” said Holmes. “Your property is there, on the table.” Darrow rushed forward and threw open the bag checking for the Will. On finding it intact, a great sigh escaped him. “It’s the will! You’ve found it and saved me a grave error!” Holmes said mildly. “Indeed but the real error lies with the makers of valises, who persist in making them indistinguishable from one another.” “But how on earth?” Holmes relit his pipe. “When I observed that the bag you brought was not yours. The contents of the valise suggested a woman owner. On closer inspection, I found tucked inside the book, a letter addressed to ‘Miss Lillian Braddock, 11 Manor Road, NW.’ which she was using as a bookmark. It became clear that she was the rightful owner of the bag. I deduced she had taken your bag in error therefore, I sent a telegram inviting her here to collect her belongings.” “And she came?” “Precisely half an hour ago.” Darrow sank into the chair, dazed but delighted. “Mr Holmes, I will forever be in your debt. Now, if you’ll forgive me I must now hurry to Belgravia to prepare; have saved the day. What do I owe you?” Holmes merely shook his head and replied “it was a mere trifle, you owe me nothing. You simply made a dull day slightly brighter.” The second person that day then again thanked Holmes profusely before bowing and making his exit. When he had gone, I could not help but shake my head. “You solved the entire matter,” I said, “without ever leaving the room.” “Why should I?” Holmes replied, smiling. “The facts were all before me. The requirement therefore was patience, and a telegram.” He reached for his violin. “The world, Watson,” he said, tuning idly, “is full of people rushing about in search of answers. Sometimes, the best course is to sit still and let the answer come to you.” And with that, the room filled with music.