Sherlock Holmes- A Brief Poem

Inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle’s “The Final Problem”

The man is the mystery

sitting in the apartment with the familiar name.

His friend is gone; a gun in his pocket-

For once, he is afraid.

He was said to solve them all.

“A benefactor of the race,

escaping the commonplaces of existence.”

A detective; not much more than that.

He stands up and looks around the room.

A sharp face; his eyes miss nothing.

He is waiting. For an end?

No one is quite sure.

The 221B doorbell rings.

He knows who is coming- the one who may win.

Death knocks on the door, but there are no angels here.

The man, my dear Watson, is the mystery.


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