The

Myrhusband.

The I'm gonna'a....andahe

... As our tale begins, the respectable Mr. Scott Eccles is met at a Surrey train station by his recent acquaintance

and fellow cartography enthusiast Mr. Aloysius Garcia, who escorts him by cab to a countryside

residence. But upon arrival, Mr. Scott Eccles is confronted with an old tumble-down

building, eerily grass-grown and in disrepair.

Becoming increasingly unsure of his host and their surroundings, Mr. Eccles reluctantly proceeds.

Thus beginning the adventure of Wisteria Lodge.

On Baker Street, Holmes and Watson smoke, and the great detective ruminates over a recently

received telegram.

I suppose, Watson, we must look upon you as a man of letters.

How do you define the word grotesque?

Grotesque?

Oh, strange, remarkable?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

There's more to it than that.

Some underlying suggestion of the tragic, the terrible.

If you cast your mind back to those narratives with which you've inflicted a long-suffering public,

you will see how often the word grotesque has deepened into the criminal.

I suppose the affair of the red-headed men was grotesque enough at the outset.

Huh?

...