Handwriting

Zhang Heng and Holmes entered the living hall, and 221 Baker Street was as Mrs. Hudson had described—unusually crowded.

Apart from the familiar faces of Gregson and Lestrade, even the deputy chief of police was there, and it was plainly written on his face that he was in a rotten mood. Seeing their chief pace back and forth by the window, none of the officers dared ensconce themselves on the settee either.

So, the whole group of men stood around the drawing-room. Though plenty of seating was available, no one dared to rest their bums. It was quite a funny sight, except that no one was laughing—every face in the room displayed an expression of grim and solemnness.

Only when Holmes walked in did the group unanimously let out an audible sigh of relief.

"It looks like none of you have been sleeping well these days," said Holmes. "Lestrade, did you have oatmeal and omelet for breakfast?"