Watson was sitting on his red armchair, writing birthdays into his small notebook, so he could buy everyone a gift this year.
He was writing down Mrs Hudson, when he turned to Holmes, and asked, "When is your birthday, Sherlock?"
Sherlock, who was puffing on a cigarette, smiled, "Is it time for a riddle?"
"Anytime!" chuckled Watson, who knew he was terrible at riddles.
There was, however, a time, when John had been good at riddles, but that was a long time ago, one could even say in a different world...
"Okay, well, I turned 40, two days ago, and next year I shall be 43."
"But, that is preposterous!" muttered Watson, who had written down the notes.
"On the contrary" smiled Holmes.
When was his birthday?
P.S. It is not the real Sherlock Holmes birthday.
YOU ARE READING
Murder Riddles
RandomHighest Ranking #1 in Short Story... A collection of murder, theft, and other riddles. After reading these, you'll be able to say; it was Prof. Plum in the living room with the lead pipe. Do not try these at home! I have not made these up myself...
