Detective Holmes puffed his pipe as he stared at the grisly scene, Victim lying still, a knife protruding from his chest, The room silent, save for the ticking of a nearby clock, Holmes' mind already racing to solve the heinous crime. He surveyed the area, noting the broken window latch, And the smudge of a fingertip on the sill, A clue, perhaps, to the identity of the culprit, Who had slipped away into the dark night. Holmes sensed a complex puzzle to unravel, One that would require all of his keen intellect, He vowed to bring the murderer to justice, No matter the cost or the complexity. And with that resolve, he picked up his hat, Prepared to dive into the twisted web of the mystery.