The only clue Holmes heard the carriage outside was a pause in the drawing on his pipe.

“My dear doctor, this one’s for you,” Holmes said.

“How could you know from the carriage sound?” I said, amazed. “I barely made out its arrival over the fire’s crackling. You’re wrong this time.”

His response – a twitch of his eyebrows.

A knock. I answered. The smartly-dressed man doffed his hat.

“Dr. Watson?”

“Yes.”

“From the publishing house. Your latest manuscript.”

He handed me a fat wad of papers with my recognizable handwriting and something worse.

“Look at all the red ink!”