Title Page

  SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE MISSING SNOWMAN

  Written by

  David Ruffle

  Illustrated by

  Rikey Austin

  Publisher Information

  First edition published in 2012 by MX Publishing

  335 Princess Park Manor, Royal Drive, London, N11 3GX

  www.mxpublishing.co.uk

  Digital edition converted and distributed by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  © 2012 Rikey Austin and David Ruffle

  The right of David Ruffle to be identified as the author of this work, and Rikey Austin the illustrator has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

  All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Rikey Austin and compiled by www.staunch.com

  Dedication

  For Ayden, Kieron, Nikiah and Deryn.

  The Missing Snowman

  Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective was sitting in front of the fire with his friend, Doctor Watson in their rooms at 221b Baker Street, London.

  It was nearly Christmas and it had been snowing for the last two days.

  “The snow has stopped falling,” said Doctor Watson, looking out the window, “and the sun is shining brightly. We could go for a walk.”

  “Or we could stay here in the warm,” said Sherlock Holmes from behind his newspaper. “I am very comfortable here.”

  Just then the doorbell rang and Mrs Hudson, their landlady showed a woman and a little girl in.

  The woman’s name was Mrs Fortescue and the little girl was Henrietta her daughter who was five years old. Mrs Fortescue said Henrietta needed the help of Sherlock Holmes to solve a mystery.

  Mrs Fortescue said, “This is the first time that Henrietta has seen snow and she wanted to build a proper snowman just like ones she has only seen in story books.”

  “You have never seen snow, young lady?”

  “No. We have been living far away in a very hot country.” Henrietta said.

  “And did you build a snowman?”

  “Yes I did. It took me hours and hours and I got very cold. It was very big, bigger than me even. My grandfather made a pipe for it and it had a carrot for a nose.”

  “But when I woke up this morning,” she cried, “it had gone! All that was left was the pipe, the carrot and a scarf I had put round it to keep it warm at night.”

  Doctor Watson spoke up, “Mrs Fortescue. Mr Holmes is a very busy man and you should tell Henrietta about how the sunshine......”

  “I think that Doctor Watson was about to say we will be happy to try and find your missing snowman.

  Now, did you look for any clues to where your snowman has gone?”

  “Yes, I looked for footprints because Mother says that’s what proper detectives do.”

  “Your mother is right,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Did you find any?”

  “No,” she sobbed. “Will you be able to find him, Mr Holmes? Mother says you are a very clever man and can find anything.”

  “I will try my very best. Now tell me, what was your snowman like?”

  “Very big.”

  “What was his nose like?”

  “Very big.”

  “What was the scarf like, do you remember?”

  “I have brought it with me, and the carrot and pipe,” Henrietta said.

  “May I keep them? They may be useful to me,” asked Sherlock Holmes “Can you tell me where you live, Henrietta?”

  “Yes I have learned it specially; it’s 27 Dorset Street. It’s just around the corner.”

  “I think it best if you show me where your snowman was, Henrietta. I will get my hat and coat and come with you back to your house.”

  Henrietta took Sherlock Holmes into her garden and showed him where she had built the snowman.

  “Let’s see what I can find out,” said the detective. He took a magnifying lens out of his coat pocket and studied the ground closely.

  “What can you see, Mr Holmes?” asked Henrietta.

  “Have a look yourself, tell me what you see.” He handed the lens to Henrietta who looked very closely for a very long time. When she had finished she looked sadder than ever.

  “I can’t see anything,” she cried.

  Sherlock Holmes then laid himself down on the snowy ground. He crawled around for a long time.

  “Shall I do the same,” Henrietta asked.

  “No, I do not think that is a good idea, your mother would not be pleased with me if you caught a cold.”

  “Have you found any clues?”

  “I have found a few clues, yes.”

  Sherlock Holmes looked up at the now very cloudy sky. “Henrietta, I will do my very best to find your missing snowman, but it may take a day or two.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Goodbye for now,” Sherlock Holmes said as he left the garden.

  The next day was Christmas Eve. Doctor Watson had been out for a walk. ‘It’s snowing again,’ he said. Sherlock Holmes jumped up and put some things in his pocket and ran out the door as quickly as he could. ‘Where are you going?’ shouted Doctor Watson, ‘it’s Christmas Eve.’ But Sherlock Holmes had left the house.

  When he came back a long time later, he was covered in snow, shivering with cold and his teeth were chattering. He sat himself down by the fire and smiled.

  Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson were opening their presents on Christmas morning when the doorbell rang. Henrietta and her mother came into the room. Henrietta ran across to Sherlock Holmes.

  “You did it, you did it,” she shouted, “you found him. And he has got his pipe, his carrot and his scarf.” She climbed onto his lap and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Henrietta, I have to tell you that snowmen like to go exploring so he may not be with you very long. Enjoy him while he is here.”

  “I have a Christmas present for you.” She gave him the pipe from her snowman.

  “Your grandfather made this pipe for you. I cannot take it from you, it is special.”

  “I want you to have it; it can be your favourite pipe.”

  “Thank you.” Sherlock Holmes walked to the fireplace and picked up his own favourite pipe.

  “There,’ he said, ‘for your snowman, Henrietta.”

  “Thank you,” she squealed and ran laughing down the stairs.

  “What do you think of my new pipe, Watson?”

  “I think it is as remarkable as you. Merry Christmas, Holmes”

  ‘Merry Christmas, Watson’ said Sherlock Holmes as he placed the pipe in his pipe rack.

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