It’s late on a Saturday night and I’m still at home alone mailing all the fancy invitations that I ordered special for the Whodunit theme party I’m hosting in two weeks. Samantha promised to help with all the decorations and props so the house would be set up for this live mystery action. Samantha is one of my best friends and she knows how important it is to me that every detail in an occasion this special be covered. I mean, what is a Sherlock Holmes mystery if it’s not set in London?
If you’ve ever visited London, then you know that it’s foggy. Naturally, this whodunit re-enactment would need fog. “How would you create fog? I wondered.
Why, you’d have to order it from a costume company according to Samantha! She’s right, you know. So I browsed some catalogs and turned to the internet where I found a place that carries this fog machine.
Imagine that! I’d never heard of such a thing. This fog machine is electrical and comes with a remote. You can even order a gallon of fog juice. Now that’s perfect for our Whodunit! We’ll be able to control the fog scene by scene with the push of a button.
I’m very excited now to create a realistic atmosphere. As I looked down at the large stack of invitations left to address, I drifted deep into thought imagining all the details for the mystery whodunit. My mind envisioned all the props, the street settings, the actors, the rooms, and the costumes. Then it struck me! The plot would be the most important part of this Sherlock Holmes mystery.
Are you ready to enter the scene?
The year is 1845 in old town London. Foghorns sound eerily in the misty dusk just two hours after sunset. The mist settles on everything bringing that smell of the salty sea that permeates your hair and your clothing. I smelled the salt on his mustache as he leaned over to whisper in my ear in that husky voice, his breath smelling of sweet smoky tobacco. His pipe was still warm to the touch as it brushed my hand when he grasped it.
My friend and teacher, the renowned Sherlock Holmes just returned from the docks. He was following up on a “hunch” for his latest murder case and wanted my help. I listened to his plea while he recounted the details of the case and all the clues he gathered so far. Curious, I followed Sherlock to the scene of the crime.
Want to follow us there? You can help us solve this murder mystery before the sun rises.
Gather your notebooks and your cameras, your magnifying glass (this is the 1800’s) and wear your London clothes. I’d recommend a long coat and comfortable waterproof boots. We’ll be visiting the docks again. If you’re ready, we’ll start at the lamp post on Dame Street where the beautiful woman lay cold and lifeless but appeared to be asleep.
The young dancer breathed her last dressed in her satin gown stained crimson from her own blood. Her wounds were hidden beneath her coat and Sherlock insisted that the photographers keep them covered for the public photographs. “Beauty like hers should never be marred, not even by camera.”, he explained to the crowd now gathering around.
The noise startled me so I jumped to my feet to look around the living room. It was really dark inside and out because I had been daydreaming for several hours, I guess. The envelope that I held in my hand still did not have the card inserted and it was crumpled. You know that last scene in the Sherlock Holmes mystery really had me on edge. I clutched the envelope tightly in my hand as I drifted off to a faraway place in my imagination.
Could it be the same night? I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or awake until I looked down at the stacks of invitations piled high where I left them hours before. Just as I gained my senses the phone rang. The man identified himself as Inspector Edward Yates from Scotland Yard and he insisted that he needed to speak with me immediately. Edward urgently asked me to come to his office right away.
I felt a panic overcome me as I searched frantically for my car keys. Scotland Yard was five miles from my house and I didn’t want to make the drive in the dark. It seemed like five minutes passed and I still couldn’t find my keys. Then I remembered that in my rush to fill out the invitations I left my keys in the car.
My heart was pounding from my personal fear of the night and the excitement of Inspector Edward’s call. I rushed to the car expecting to find it in the driveway where I parked it. Instead, I found an empty space and deep tire tracks leading to the street.
Then I saw the blood spots on the ground and gasped. What should I do now?
Come back next week for part two of this Sherlock Holmes style mystery whodunit. Be sure to bring your list of clues so far. Have you made any deductions yet?