by Mary Christmas

Quietly I look,
Searching for a clue
In an old brown book.
Everything is new,
In this time and world.
Nothing is the same,
And I'm feeling swirled,
Dizzy and confused since I came.
Why did she choose me?
What can I do that another cannot?
I'd rather be with my bees,
Than put an end to New London's rot.
But I am Sherlock Holmes, and I must defeat
The master criminal, who cannot be beat.


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