THE CASE OF THE FOOD THIEF

Holmes was in no mood for jollity as he tightened the clasp on his webcam.

"Ah Watson!" he cried, "You will no doubt be wondering precisely why I am engaged in the connection of this surveillance device to my writing desk! Unquestionably your finely tuned technical authoring eyes will have fixed on the semi-consumed pot of squeezable honey in the left pocket of my smoking jacket, the empty packet of Skittles and the trail of tiny biscuit crumbs leading inexorably to the kitchen, and you will have deduced the simple truth of the matter?"

"Actually Holmes," I replied, "I was wondering why Tracy the Receptionist is furiously pacing up and down outside as though the world is reaching impending peril."

"Ah," said the eminent detective. "That will be the Food Thief."

"The Food Thief?"

"Yes Watson, it's perfectly obvious. We have a food thief - and one with a sweet tooth if I'm not mistaken."

Holmes rested his chin upon his steepled fingers and tapped as he gazed from the window. He rarely was mistaken.

"It is a most intriguing case," he continued, "And clearly one in which the perpetrator is clever enough to cover his tracks. But he must be caught Watson, he must be... apprehended. We cannot have an office where Skittles go missing and receptionists are livid."

"And hence the webcam," I noted, observantly.

Holmes nodded with a wistful smile, then returned to his diligence. I noted a bottle of Frijj milkshake perched on the desk by his replica Persian envelope scimitar.

"And this?" I enquired, picking it up.

"Don't touch that Watson!" he exclaimed, spinning on his chair. It is three months out of date and positioned perfectly!"

I put it back.

"I probably ought to get back to the technical authoring," I said to no reply.