I’ve walked these drenched streets

My footsteps echoing across decades

Lit only by gaslight

My shadow as dark as a midnight moor

Mysteries always around the corner

I walked these inky streets

A mournful violin shadows my trek

Logical reasoning awaits

Clients carry pocketfuls of woe

My pulse quickening as clues collect

I walk these well-read streets

Eager to climb the stairs up to 221B

Dodging red herrings

My desire flames a study in scarlet

Every detective other pales in comparison