Sherlock Holmes was on the verge of a relapse and needed a distraction. The Nigerians would be showing up on our doorstep soon to collect on the debt he accrued while on his last bender. I’d searched his office and flat for those little packets containing c***k and found one hidden in the toilet cistern. He’d glowered at me while I emptied the rocks into the toilet bowl and flushed it. Thankfully, we’d received several emails asking for help since the success of our last case was smeared across the Pretoria News and on News 24.
The sensationalised case of the farmer and the lion had been initially thought of as an average farm murder by the local police but had turned out to be a murderous love triangle. In his usual bungling manner, Detective Lestrade had overlooked most of the pertinen
