"It has quite a good taste, this Luxemburgean water," said Holmes.

We were staying at the spa of Baden-Baden to take the waters, my friend and I. It is common knowledge indeed, that Baden-Baden lies in the land of Baden Wurttemberg in Germany and not in Luxembourg and Holmes' erroneous geographical comment was but an additional sign of his poor state of mind.

The immortal detective was suffering from weak health and I had advised him somewhat firmly to stay some time at a suitable location, to rest and undergo a water health cure. We had albeit already spent the summer in Holmes' cottage by the sea in Kaseberga close to the town of Ystad in the south of Sweden, where Holmes, as you know, nowadays has taken up the habit of enjoying a well deserved holiday during the summer months. The splendid view overlooking the glittering Baltic sea from the heather and grass overgrown hills all along the coast, the culinary dishes served at the numerous inns along the country roads, the frequent cider tastings at the local producers and the many excursions to the historical sites usually made all the difference to Holmes. This year, however all was very different.

Holmes had been so upset by the events in connection with "The used bookseller from Ystad" that he found it impossible to find peace of mind. I, who was also greatly disturbed by this particularly gruesome case, have, as the reader remembers, already described these dramatic events. All the clerks at the local Board of Building Permits had been severely but well deservedly beaten up by an honest and sincere book seller, who had been forced by the authorities to pay the hideous sum of œ79 (in Swedish crowns) just for the permit of putting up a sign in front of his shop! This bureaucratic malpractice had so etched itself into Holmes' well-known feeling for justice that he was clearly unable to relax and I noticed how he suffered from the fact that a proud citizen of the European Union could be treated so pettily and basely.

Holmes encountered much sympathy from the local inhabitants for his way of solving this case, but this did not seem to damper his sadness. At one of the visits that we paid to the cidery, Holmes had even been saluted and applauded by the other visitors. A Mrs. Kant had addressed a few very kind words to Holmes, but nothing seemed to have any effect whatsoever on his increasingly bad mood.

"It is our duty to prevent that such practices are raised to universal law," Mrs. Kant had added categorically and with a certain imperative.

Nor could I myself be any longer at ease to see my friend in this deplorable state. I had planned to write down the utterly dramatic events in connection with the German Turkeyneer but was unable to pull myself together enough to go through and work upon my notes in this particularly complex skein. I had also, obviously, to some extent, the responsibility to the readers to write down how Holmes had solved the mystery of the 214 dead frogs, a work I had but merely begun.

We left Kaseberga unusually early this summer and returned to London. Holmes was unwilling to accompany me to the coast at Eastbourne in spite of the fine late summer whether. He persisted in staying in his apartment on Baker Street with the curtains drawn. My friend didn't want to share his troubles with me and remained very silent and solitary all throughout. He worked a lot on his notes. He had very few and irregular meals for which Mrs. Hudson was certainly not to blame as she outshined herself in the art of preparing culinary dishes. Steak and kidney pie, grilled and placed on a spinach bed are but two examples of what she created, but nothing seemed to evoke Holmes' interest. I even think that he, in his hours of loneliness again indulged into his most dangerous abuse. He turned lean, yea even thin and gloomy and grey in mind. We were all very alarmed. I realised that this must not go on undisturbed and asked Holmes to, between friends, accept a few pieces of professional advice regarding his health.

"Holmes," I said, "I'm not just your friend and companion but possess also a certain degree of professional knowledge concerning the health of mankind. Alas, I share your concern over the direction the welfare state is taking when a used bookseller can be so harshly treated. Soon they will start burning books also, I'm sure! But, Holmes, nothing improves by you feeling poorly as well."

Holmes listened without much interest to my exposé about the necessity of regular meals, daily walks, new impressions and experiences. It was clear that his mind was elsewhere. He appeared restless and was easily annoyed. He was even exasperated by Mrs. Hudson when she announced that the gas company wished to read the gas meter.

"I fear that it has started and it may well turn out to be explosive, said Holmes irritated. It was indeed very unlike Holmes to be upset by such a triviality and I grew firmer in my conviction that I could not leave my friend in this state. Thus I asked him to contemplate the seriousness of his situation and encouraged him firmly to accompany me on a journey away from London.

"Holmes, would you consider accompanying me to a spa and take the waters?" I asked. "That would do us both some good." It struck me that Baden-Baden, in "the Black Forest" just some odd kilometres from the shores of the Rhine river and the agreeable Alsace with the very capitol of Europe, Strasbourg, was a most suitable choice.

"Baden-Baden," said Holmes, "is not a silly idea at all. I have during some time myself considered going to Strasbourg, but as this might perhaps not have turned out to be solely without discomfort, I think that Baden-Baden indeed is not a bad choice at all. Bravo Watson! you exceed yourself again."

Hence, it was with the utmost of pleasure that I noticed that Holmes was not at all negative to this idea. As a matter of a fact, he even looked eager and attracted by my suggestion. I was of course surprised and wondered in my mind where the reason for this shift of wind was to be found.

It is indeed not uncommon for Holmes to show signs of sudden changes in temper but what we now witnessed was exceedingly particulate. Holmes started preparations right away for our departure. He gathered his notes in his leather brief-case, packed his tobacco set and scrambled together a few garments after which he frankly declared that, as far as he was concerned, he was ready to go. Quite honestly, I had not envisaged such an abrupt departure but with my friend's best interests in mind I thought it best to strike while the iron was hot.

"Let us leave," said Holmes and opened the door.

We jostled ourselves passed three female gas controllers in the staircase. I thought it all too typical, by the way, to send three people to do one man's (or even worse, one woman's) job. Moreover, their uniforms where brand new and not in any old quality either, I noticed. I remembered commenting that it is no wonder that the gas bill is as high as the invoice from Rose's Tea shop. Holmes darted a glimpse at the three gas readers, nodded grimly and was not, evidently, satisfied with this waste of funds.

We advanced rapidly to the cab station at the corner of Baker Street and Oxford Street. Holmes almost ran and we both turned breathless. Once there, we jumped into a cab and went off. It is true that I had no luggage but Holmes was so eager to go and I thought that the most necessary things can nowadays also be bought even on the European continent. As a matter of a fact, it's no longer unusual to find both tea, reasonably water tight umbrellas and moustache wax in some stores, at least in the major cities. On top of that, now that the custom formalities are much abandoned within the European Community, it is also much easier than before to send for things from back home.

"Which would be the fastest route to the continent?" Holmes asked the cabdriver.

The chauffeur advised us to go directly to Dover and board the TGV train which would take us through the Eurotunnel directly to France.

"This route is unquestionably the fastest one," he argued, "as taking the train from Victoria station in theory is closer, but the car computer shows that the traffic jam is so severe that it may take hours just to go there."

"Please do whatever you find appropriate," said Holmes, "but please hurry!"

"A flight from Heathrow to Paris takes only half an hour but as the flight controllers in Brussels make a pretense of working, one never knows where one might land," said the cabdriver. "They are no doubt inspired by the Brussels bureaucrats, he alleged, and nothing turned out the way it was originally intended."

Holmes looked nervously around, became somewhat excited and urged the driver to hurry up. More cabs followed in our itinerary and it was clear that our chauffeur hadn't been alone in his judgement that this was the fastest lane to Dover. My friend seemed increasingly more excited and one started to recognise his former spirit again. Holmes' transformation was indeed a source of emerging joy. I hoped that I had done him a great service in suggesting this "excursion."

Once we arrived in Dover, we bought our tickets and waited on the platform for the train to arrive. Indeed we were not alone here. Many are those that want to travel by the TGV, the ultra rapid train that does 300 km/h through the tunnel under the English Channel all the way to France and further on to Paris and other European destinations. As this was my first passage through the Eurotunnel, I was naturally excited by the voyage.

"Holmes, this is turning out to be quite an adventure," I tried encouragingly.

"More than you may anticipate," said Holmes.

Holmes appeared impatient and wondered to and fro on the platform carrying his brief-case. He tried to avoid the other waiting passengers. I noticed that he observed with particular interest a group of three female customs officers, that appeared to be in their forties. They also intended to come along on the train, apparently. They had nicely arranged their blond hair under their caps, moved along very discreetly and gave way to the left almost invisibly whilst meeting other passengers in order not to hamper the other travellers. They were three very elegant women and I was truly not particularly surprised to notice that also Holmes was fascinated by their blue eyes.

The presence of customs officers, although female, was however of some concern to me, now that we were going abroad and everything.

"Holmes," I asked tactfully, "are you sure you are not carrying anything that might be connected to your periodic habits?"

"Watson, don't be silly," said Holmes and sniffed scornfully. "What you see are no ordinary customs officers, even though they are well disguised. They work under the command of one particular country's Commissioner to the European Union and are not to be challenged unnecessarily.

"Moreover," said Holmes, "they are Swedish."

Although I in no way disdain my friend's sharp perspicacity, I still thought that sometimes he is really quite obsessed by some petty details, my friend Holmes. I was a trifle disappointed now that we were going on a genuine recreation and rest and Holmes persisted in analysing even such a common event.

"Still," I said to him, "they carry quite irreproachable uniforms common to all customs officers. They even carry all the usual equipment, mobile phones and everything. How on earth can you claim that they are not just quite ordinary British customs personnel?"

"My dear Watson, do you see the length of the antennas on their mobile phones?" asked Holmes. "It does not at all correspond to the frequencies used by the British Customs Authority. Thus, they must be foreigners. On British soil, however, officials from a foreign country are clearly not allowed to carry uniform and we can consequently conclude that they must come from inside a European Union body. And, moreover, as you can see for yourself, they have very sophisticated equipment including a laptop computer, probably including on-line mobile Internet access. It is evident that their mission is of a very special and secret nature. As this is normally not the task of the European Union it follows that they must be under the command of one particular country's Commissioner."

"I see," I said, "but how can you say that they come from Sweden of all the 15 countries in the Union?"

"Watson, their uniforms are, as you yourself pointed out, absolutely new and hardly used at all. They must thus come from one of the three new member states."

"Now that you mention it, yes I suppose so," I said.

"Austria, Finland or Sweden, that only recently joined the European Union, have dressed their officials in new European Union uniforms. You may have noticed that these women cede to the left meeting another person. In Europe you would find that only British and Swedish citizens behave in such a fashion, due to left hand driving. It is true that it is some 30 years since the Swedes changed over to right hand driving but they have nevertheless kept this habit of walking to the left. I'm sure that you noticed this during our stays in Kaseberga, Watson. On top of this, these are women at the age of around 40 and in no other country had the women's liberation advanced so far as to employ women so early. To further conclude, said Holmes, they are both blond, have blue eyes and are definitely not without Nordic beauty. My dear Watson, this is all to elementary!"

The train arrived and Holmes and I prepared ourselves to go on board. It was crowded to say the least, with all the travellers who wanted to board as soon as possible. It is a high velocity train and the stopover in Dover is very short indeed, only a minute or so. We rapidly found our wagon. The three customs officers apparently had seat reservations in the same wagon as we, as they went ahead of us. To be honest, they squeezed themselves in front of us in a most impolite way.

"Look out, Watson," said Holmes, "you'll find all sorts of people here!"

I could not avoid being surprised by the women's manners. Now that I knew their Swedish origin I was even more stunned and unable to understand their behaviour, which much resembled that of southern Europeans. Swedes are supposed to be rather civilised, aren't they? Suppose they had been French or Italian--that would largely have explained their manners and one would not have reacted so strongly. But Swedish women--I'm afraid that our culture is no longer what it used to be. They took their time and we started to worry whether we would manage to catch the train. Holmes, who was in the front of us, first asked me to carry his brief-case, then changed his mind and urged me to advance in front. He pushed to such an extent that the women almost tumbled into the compartment.

"My dear ladies," said Holmes, "this is no carnival train!"

I admit having found Holmes behaviour somewhat less than gallant but as the train set in motion I realised that Holmes had acted resolutely and that these modern women indeed needed a lesson in how to behave correctly in a British train on British soil.

"Well done Holmes!" it escaped me.

The passage in the tunnel only took 17 minutes, something of a disappointment. The train made its 300 km/h, this was visible only from a meter in the wagon. I had absolutely no impression at all of going so fast. I looked at the scenery and the landscape, that changed its face constantly. Holmes spent most of the journey working on his notes. Already at 1432 we arrived at the new TGV terminal at the big international airport of Paris, Charles de Gaulle. Holmes and I got off the train here at Charles de Gaulle to continue our journey by air to Strasbourg and from there on we planned to take a cab the 50 km to Baden-Baden in the German land of Baden-Wurttemberg.

The three Swedish women were apparently heading for Strasbourg as well, as I observed them seated further in the front of the aircraft. The younger of the three, this I must admit, did posses a not entirely negligible charm. She obviously recognised us and made some friendly attempts to ask Holmes' pardon for the turmoil on boarding the train. She had obviously taken a fancy to Holmes, who I suppose may emanate a certain statesmanlike force of attraction on modern women. Holmes, however, remained exceedingly frigid and I felt inclined to remind him that British code of conduct after all demanded a certain degree of politeness. Holmes attitude to the female sex is, as I have pointed out on numerous occasions, somewhat forced. This Nordic beauty, whose appearance possibly resembled that of Irene Adler to some extent, was clearly not entirely without interest to Holmes. My friend drummed nervously with his fingers on his brief-case whilst glimpsing at her clandestinely, I noticed not without amusement, all through the voyage. Didn't his hands even show signs of sweat?

In short, we were now at last, Holmes and I, after a tiresome journey, in Baden-Baden. We had settled in Hotel am Bahnhof. In the evening, when both of us had rested a little and felt like a light meal, we set off for the Casino Park and the restaurant there. There was no excuse for not starting our cure straight away. Holmes looked relieved and content to have reached the goal of our voyage. I was of course happy to see that my friend appeared to have left his gloom behind. The exceedingly pleasant surroundings with the walks bordered by flourishing plantations, all the greenery of the steep slopes of the Black Forest, the numerous water posts and the utterly friendly local inhabitants, all this contributed undoubtedly to our emerging peace of mind. It had a good start indeed, this convalescence. Holmes was even a bit euphoric and in his humorous temper when he ordered his meal: a steak of wild boar with spinach. I was not at all displeased by his choice from medical criteria and joined in with pleasure.

"And to drink?" asked der Kellner, as a German waiter is called.

"Wasser," I answered before Holmes had the time to contemplate other alternatives. In Baden-Baden on spa you have to drink water. Anything else would be silly and also Holmes realised this.

"I prefer however Sprudelwasser," said Holmes, "aerated water with gas."

"Gazeifiée," the waiter elucidated. Holmes agreed.

The meal was very nice, indeed delicious, as always in this part of Europe. Alsace in France and the Black Forest in Germany, on each side of the Rhine river, have alot of common history and a very special feeling for the needs of the human nature. Food and exquisite wines, water for drink and wash, all of it takes part in this bodily and mental entity. Even the ancient Romans exploited Baden-Baden and learned to enjoy its assets. We felt very pleased, Holmes and I, when we finished our meal.

"It really has a good taste, this Luxembourgean water," said Holmes.

Holmes possesses undeniably a certain experience and he is moreover exceedingly competent and scholared, but his state of mind obviously played his judgement a trick. I agreed that the taste was unusually balanced, but had I not caught Holmes, for once, making a false conclusion? After all, we were in Germany!

"Holmes," I said perhaps a trifle triumphant, "Baden-Baden is in Germany and not in Luxembourg!"

"My dear Watson, this I know," said Holmes. "Our delicious water, however, comes from the Principality of Luxembourg. Apart from some facts, like the waiter, who is a student at the Restaurant and Tourist University of Strasbourg, comes from Luxembourg and works here over the summer as a trainee, being the son of Jacques Santer, the President of the European Union's Commission. You may have noticed that the water, which the waiter poured was not bottled in recycled glass.

"Holmes! This is too much," I objected.

Holmes continued disregarding my comment: "As all beverages in Germany by law are distributed in recycled bottles it follows that ours must have been imported," Holmes concluded. "The waiter mentioned also, as you heard, that the water was gazeifiée. This is of course French and we understand thus that our bottle must come from either France, Belgium or Luxembourg, the only countries in the European Union where French is spoken," Holmes carried on. "In Belgium they prefer drinking beer and bottling water is considered merely silly. "Gazeifiée" means, however, also that the carbonic acid has been added artificially which implies that we can exclude France, where such water is "gazeuse;" i.e., naturally aerated. Thus our water must come from Luxembourg, which in no way reduces our estimation of this noble drink.

"Elegant Holmes," I said, "but insignificant under the circumstances."

"Water is our life, Watson," answered Holmes, "and definitely not without importance."

"All right Holmes, but how can you claim that our waiter is a student at a University for restaurants and even the son of the President of the European Commission? I asked.

"Elementary, my dear Watson, there are, I've been told, 20 million unemployed in Europe today. One would therefore be inclined to think that this young man had only a temporary summer job. He has however, as I'm sure you noticed, some callosity on the left side of his right hand's forefinger. This is called a waiter's finger and tells us that he has been practising this profession already for some time. Moreover, he has a perfectly professional way of serving our dishes. Such a skill must have been acquired at a highly eminent school of which there is only one in the region. L'Ecole d'Hotelerie et Restauration in Strasbourg is the name of this school.

"This I might have figured out myself, had I thought it important," I objected, "but the son of Jacques Santer?"

"We have already concluded that he, as well as his father, comes from Luxembourg," said Holmes. "That he is someone's son is equally probable," Holmes joked.

"Holmes be serious!" I said. "Son of Jacques Santer?"

"But this you know already," said Holmes.

"Know?"

"Watson, you have written this story, said Holmes. I know you to be someone with an irreproachable intellectual integrity. I'm somewhat surprised that you pretend not to remember what you have put on paper yourself!? The story leaves no doubt regarding the identity of this young man."

"Certainly, I admitted, but we haven't finished the story yet. Each thing has its proper time," I said. "Moreover, you haven't even uttered these words yet, Holmes."

"Watson, I find it somewhat unfair of you to belittle me like this," said the immortal detective anxiously. "I'm more than aware of the attempts from various bodies claiming my existence to be fictive and that I should be a non-being. I put little credibility to such talk myself, as I think that I think and hence must exist. It is true, however, that my life is supposed to have happened some hundred years ago and that which we are now experiencing had not yet occurred. This may somewhat explain your present difficulties remembering."

"Holmes, you are trying to escape to poodle's core. A lot has happened since your days. Allow me to remind you that this is no discussion about philosophical subtleties but a detective story. Enough now with these evasive manoeuvres. You have to explain yourself better!"

"Riddles don't exist," said Holmes as if he possessed a deeper understanding. "One must not elaborate on things that we can know nothing about."

"But Holmes," I said, "we are human beings and are forced to stay with that which we can grasp. I simply feel that it is not at all beyond reason to ask of you to present a probable explanation, one which might be understood also by us ordinary people. Or, is this too difficult even for you?"

"There are those," said Holmes, "like me, that consider the language to be the real judge of what is real. Let me remind you, Watson, that it is you who have arranged the descriptions of me and our most difficult cases. Because of that, we find ourselves in a reality, that you have created and from which we cannot escape.

"To have been or not to have been, that is your question," I teased Holmes.

"Watson, be not abusive!" Holmes protested, "but I admit to you, that this very special method of investigation, which I use only when old methods do not fully suffice, may be more applicable in more complex cases. I think in particular about how we solved the mystery of the "Untruthful lie in Heidelberg" last year. We solved this mystery by strictly adhering to these new principles, as you remember. I don't think that you have yet written this, have you Watson?"

"Holmes, I believe that not many of my readers have yet the necessary insight to quite appreciate these revolutionary new methods. They probably prefer more of Moore's common sense. On their behalf, I think it to be for their benefit if you would be so kind as to present a perfectly simple explanation. That would also allow me to write down these events and your appearance now would have a less improbable setting."

"Yes, I acknowledge your point," said Holmes, "it is indeed utterly strange that very few of these new methods are actually used. Many, not to say most of our world's plaguing problems would have be resolved. And this in spite of the fact that many dozens of very competent philosophers have continued in developing these methods. I'm thinking in particular about my dear friends in Vienna and Cambridge, with whom I later have shared many fruitful communications. Honestly speaking, Watson, don't we have all the necessary intellectual tools at our feet? Do you not find it remarkable that I, who come from last century, know these methods better than today's decision makers? This is clearly not satisfactory! Time is running out and I really do not know what to do in order to make these methods public knowledge."

"I'm as vain as you are," I said, "it's most sad."

I was worrying again over my friend's state of mind. He clearly had not yet recovered.

"Hah," exclaimed Holmes, "we must not cede to the enemies of light and indulge in mysticism. May I therefore remind you, that outside the very restaurant where we are presently dining, stands a Harley Davidson motor bike with a side-car and a diplomat plate from Luxembourg, Holmes continued. As all the guests here, as you can see for yourself, are pensioners and hardly travel by motor bike, you must admit the circumstances to point in the direction of our waiter being the owner of the bike and that he is in all likelihood the son of a diplomat. And Watson," Holmes added almost awkwardly, "his service shirt carries the name "Santer" embroidered. The conclusion is not without some elementary elements even for you."

Holmes was as usual not very pleased to show his deductive talents. I, on the contrary, felt somewhat flattened out. The air at our table turned again oppressive, but this time because of me. "Would it be of any good to ask your father a favour?" Holmes asked the waiter. "As I'm not fully convinced that my deeds nowadays are remembered I see no other possibility but to ask a contemporary person's assistance. What I mean is that my influence, bearing in mind that I performed the essentials of my life some hundred years ago, may be limited.

"Even your reputation has preceded your reappearance," answered the waiter very politely. "I personally also share your concern for this incredible story. I served once at a reception in Strasbourg, where also the Swedish Consul attended. It will no doubt turn out to be feasible. I shall tell my father about your preoccupation. He understands the importance of being earnest and with his time."

"Much I can promise," said Holmes, "and honesty has never been my weak point. To be contemporary may turn out to be more difficult."

"Ska vi gâ o bada," Holmes suddenly sang the morning after at breakfast in a, for me, unintelligible tongue. "Shall we go and have a bath?"

From where did he get that? I thought I had heard the tune before. Wasn't it amongst the students in Lund in Sweden on the last of April? Yes most certainly, it was from a student's farce.

Apart from the comic aspect, the suggestion was not at all preposterous. Baden-Baden is the very place where to go and have a bath. Even the ancient Romans much enjoyed the salutary and healing baths in the hot water wells, where the water sprinkles right out the rocks. A course of treatment at one of the baths includes for instance 16 stations with cold, warm salt, mud, Turk, sauna, massage and so on.

No sooner said than done, we went bathing. You enter the bath, after having left all your clothes in the reception. The bath is mixed, i.e., men and women bathe together nude. The baths are much frequented and today was no exception. I noticed with some dismay that also the three Swedish women were there.

As the baths are totally without costumes, I admit recognising Holmes' attitude when he caught sight of the young Swedish lady. Holmes quite simply refused to hand in his brief-case, which he carried with him all through the bathing stations. It did not seldom serve its shielding purpose. My body endured with at pains all the different baths and also Holmes looked relaxed. After the course we rested in the "Water bar", where we of course partook of the water from the well. No Luxembourgean water this time...

"Herrn Holmes, Herrn Holmes," shouted one of the guards. "Herrn Holmes, a message for you," he repeated in near perfect English.

Holmes turned up his nose at the messenger and presented himself. The message appeared to be a man with a sympathetic exterior and an obvious internal esteem.

"Good day Herrn Holmes, I do apologise for my intrusion. I understand that my arrival could have come at a more appropriate time," said the man and looked down on Holmes' brief-case. "My name is Zeiss. I run a rope-yard in Strasbourg and I fulfill at the same time the duty of being Swedish consul there. Normally I wouldn't dream of intruding like this unless it was for a most pressing matter."

Consul Zeiss was all agitated. He spoke alternatively German, French and some English in a sacred mixture.

"A Swedish member of the European parliament, a representative of the Green Party, Per Gaggton, I think that is his name--I do not speak Swedish myself--has been found tied to his back at "Chez Yvonne," a Weinstub close to the cathedral in Strasbourg with his tongue sharpened. Someone has infamously cut off the leather from his wooden shoes and the day before his secretary was found with her hands so closely tied that she is still unable to type. Ropes from my ropery had been used and I find myself, as you may imagine, Mr. Holmes, in a somewhat delicate and unfavourable light."

The three women approached us and they clearly intended to halt their course of treatment. Holmes was obviously embarrassed by his apparent lack of decency as he did not at all pay sufficient attention to Consul Zeiss.

"I have suspected for some time that something similar would happen," said Holmes abruptly. "Would you be so kind as to take a place here whilst Dr. Watson and myself regain our decency and get dressed. May I recommend a refreshing beaker of Water whilst waiting."

I hurried to get dressed in the changing room and returned as fast as I managed to the "Water bar." Strangely enough there was no sign of Consul Zeiss. It was as if he were swallowed by the earth. Holmes took his time indeed, I thought. He usually understands when things get serious and this matter looked serious enough. A member of parliament with his tongue sharpened! I may have overreacted, though, as Holmes made no sign of being in a hurry. I recognised his voice grunting something in the changing room. Didn't I hear someone tittering as well? I became slightly impatient, but calmed down and thought better not to engage ourselves in this matter. It was really a comfort that the Consul obviously no longer counted on our assistance.

"Has Consul Zeiss already left?" I asked the guard rhetorically just to assure myself.

"You mean the French gentleman who was in accompanying the lady policeman?" asked the guard. "Yes, he left shortly before two of them. The third lady is still here, I gather," he answered.

"They are Swed....," I tried, when Holmes appeared and interrupted me.

"Yea, yea, in my profession one happens to fall over quite a few things," said the receptionist. "This I can assure you, gentlemen."

This intermezzo surprised me little. There are all sorts of strange people on the continent and it is well advised not to mingle in their affairs. With the abolished passport controls anybody may in fact cross the border anywhere carrying all their fishy business. Frenchmen, Germans and even Italians are to be found everywhere these days. Many of them do not even speak English. They are all better left alone. We were here to rest in peace and quiet and take the waters. I thought Holmes looked better already. A few weeks more in this placid place would unquestionably do as both very very good and give us back our ancient energy and vitality.

"Watson, there is no time to lose!" shouted Holmes. "I fear the worst. We must without delay go to Strasbourg. No time must be wasted!"

Holmes rushed along and I followed him reluctantly. We caught sight of a cab just in front of the office of Radio Victoria. A man in cameras got out and ran into the building and we tried to catch the cab. The three Swedish women got there in front of us, however, and pushed their way forward again. Holmes did not persist but let it all pass, which I thought to be ever so magnanimous. Holmes can on occasions sometimes be truly gallant.

"Allow me to be of service," said all of a sudden a voice that we recognised. It was the young Santer, who had witnessed the incident. He was dressed in leather with his helmet under his right arm. He was starting his motor bike. "You, my gentlemen, may go with me to Strasbourg as I plan to talk to my father in any case. May I suggest that you, Dr. Watson, take a place in the side-car and you, Mr. Holmes, behind me."

I started to feel that I was losing the grip of these events and looked in dismay at the motor-bike. Holmes jumped up on the seat and nodded meaningfully at me at the side-car.

"Aha, to Strasbourg in a haste, shouted Holmes to young Santer, who also apparently realised the hurry. Holmes has a inner force, that he manages to transfer to others without using many words.

The vehicle turned into the zone reserved for pedestrians and tacked amongst the flaneurs. We passed by the water post, the grocery store and out onto the main street. Young Santer accelerated his Harley Davidson once we were out on the Motorway and doing some 170 km/h the wind was less than comfortable. Holmes' coat was beating by the speed and I had to hold his hat. I tried in vain to forget my ignominious situation, but I must admit that my fear took its right. Luckily it took no longer than 20 minutes to reach the border town of Kehl. We passed over the bridge over the Rhine river and thus we were in France and the city of Strasbourg, the capital of Europe. It is a charming city indeed. Cross timber houses from the late seventeenth century, canals, parks and a most elegant tramway contribute to a welcoming atmosphere. The red silhouette of the immense cathedral with its one single tower cast its shadow over much of the city centre. The time was five past one, approximately, and the city looked completely still and deserted.

"Where are all the people?" I asked Holmes.

"It is lunch time and everybody is having lunch," muttered Holmes in reply. "We're in France now, Watson." I noticed that he was very tense and that his mind was elsewhere. Thus I preferred not to disturb him with further questions. I was obviously filled with wonder at our sudden departure. Without luggage and everything. Solely Holmes' brief-case was there with us, but it contained nothing but his notes. My moustache wax I had left at the Hotel am Bahnhof. It was most awkward indeed. I could, however, not help myself enjoying the sight of this beautiful city. We passed by the old town core with all its cross timber houses. We went by Place de la République with its colossal buildings in solid stone, erected at the end of the nineteenth century during the epoch when the city belonged to Germany. We drove past the park called the Orangerie and the immense building which houses the European Counsel.

"I'm a trifle lost," said young Santer.

"To the European Court of Human Rights," shouted Holmes to our chauffeur. "It is quite new and resembles a river steamer on the Mississippi. It lies on the other side of the bridge just opposite the new European Parliament," Holmes made clear. "It cannot be mistaken!"

The bike turned and drove along Jaquotot and passed in fact the buildings that Holmes had described.

"How can you find your way so well in Strasbourg, Holmes?" I asked. "I don't think you've been here before."

"My dear Watson, this is the very capital of Europe, known to all European citizens for its democratic institutions at the service of all. In gaudy contrast to the over bureaucratic Brussels, I might add. It would be nothing less than embarrassing not to know my own capital!"

Now the bike braked in front of the infamous staircase at the European Court of Human Rights. Holmes had prepared his alighting and we more or less threw ourselves off the bike and dashed upstairs into the foyer, where a receptionist halted us.

"May I inquire about the nature of your business here?" asked the receptionist. "A guided tour of the premises commences tomorrow at 1500 hours."

The lobby was full of repair men in white overalls, who were apparently repairing the copy machine. In the corridor behind I saw two dozen doors half open and I could catch a glimpse of an uncountable number of barristers preparing assorted cases. Holmes observed, not without amusement, I noticed, the repair men and it appeared that he felt a certain sympathy for their work.

"Monsieur Santer," shouted Holmes. "I am Sherlock Holmes and this is Doctor Watson. Monsieur Santer is staying here today if I'm not misinformed."

"President Santer is, in his capacity as chairman of the European Commission, a strictly busy man," answered almost meanly.

"My dear lady, can you not understand that its a matter of human dignity and integrity," shouted Holmes, his face having turned all red. "Where is Monsieur Santer? It is of the utmost importance that I can meet with him at once! A hideous encroachment is on the verge of being committed. Only Doctor Watson and myself remain to prevent this despicable crime on humanity!"

Imagine my surprise, when an ambulance with blue pulsating lights stopped right in front of the Court. The ambulance personnel opened the rear door and carried a man lying on a barrow. They continued up the stairs and entered the lobby.

"This is Per Gaggton, Swedish member of the European parliament and representing the Green Party," said the ambulance driver. "He insisted to be present at today's session, in spite of the fact that he is totally crippled by someone, who has so sharpened his tongue that he can speak no one's sake. His secretary got her hands so harshly tied that she is unable to type.

"Shall we go to bathing," lulled Per on his stretcher. He was somewhat intoxicated by the pain killers he had taken for his tongue in combination with the Gewurztraminer, that had washed down the goose liver paté he had had for lunch. Per had a past in the student politics in Lund in Sweden. He had by mistake snatched this tune when he, disguised as a liberal, by pure chance found himself attending a student farce, believing it to be a meeting organised by the Liberal Club, focusing of load reading from pornographic books.

"You can see for yourself," said Holmes to the receptionist. "Per Gaggton is clearly not capable of contributing to a happy outcome of this case. You must immediately give us permission to talk to Mr Santer. I would even be willing to hand over my own notes on this matter to the court, provided that suitable guaranties are given."

"Please tell him that his son is with Mr. Holmes," said young Santer.

The door to the elevator opened and the three Swedish EU agents stepped out into the lobby.

"Mr Holmes, we are Sweden's representatives in this case and we urge you hand us your notes," said the oldest of the three.

The younger woman, who appeared in her early forties, had obviously dropped her cap, as her blond hair was now falling freely and she really looked staggeringly beautiful. Holmes looked at the group of three and placed himself so that the youngest one got somewhat aside.

"To release this material to you, my dear lady, is totally and irrevocably out of the question," said Holmes. "My notes are intended only for the eyes of Mr. Santer and this I'm prepared to defend with all my integrity! Nothing appears more filled with dirt than that which you, my ladies, have been engaged in, he said and fastened his eyes on the older woman. This is truly a shame for the whole Brussels bureaucracy. You have, in the most hideous way, violated the very basic idea of our community, namely that individuals shall have the liberty to seek their happiness and freedom free from undue interference from states or governments. Disguised as gas readers in London, customs officers in Dover and attractive women in Baden-Baden, in these ways you have tried to lay your hands on my personal notes about this affair, thus trying to prevent justice to prevail by appeal."

The women started to look lop-eared and they stared at their feet.

"Moreover, you have inflicted an unpleasant experience on a brave Swedish member of the European Parliament. Although there are people who find the deed less than enough, I tell you now and here that this is no way of treating anybody," Holmes continued. "Mr Gaggton has made himself a name as a potent critic of Brussels bureaucracy and deserves some credit for this, even though he has not yet fully understood the vision of a multicultural Europe in prosperity and wealth. In no way, one has the right to sharpen anybody's tongue and vandalise his wooden shoes. And to sabotage the copying machines, thus making an appeal impossible, is indeed not in accordance with the high standards of European tradition and ideals. May I remind you of our common proud history of ethic philosophy."

A sough passed through the room. The receptionist looked up and all the barristers glimpsed out of their doors in the corridor. Everybody looked at Holmes. They stared at him. Everybody nodded affirmatively.

"Monsieur Holmes, it is for me a particular honour to hear such well spoken words from someone who lived already last century," uttered a person in French and broken English whilst approaching us. "I'm sad to say that many people living today have not yet reached your level of understanding. Allow me to appoint you an honourable citizenship in the European Union, Mr. Holmes, although you belong to the time before the horrible world wars."

Holmes bowed his neck and everybody could see that he was moved by these words.

"All this goes well together with my policy of transparency," he continued. "I think a new era has been born and that Strasbourg, with its long and outstanding tradition of righteousness and human dignity, is now ready to take over many essential functions from Brussels."

It was Monsieur Santer, president of the European Union's Commission, who spoke. Behind him Monsieur Zeiss supplemented.

"Monsieur Zeiss, who I know to be a person of outstanding qualities, has this morning paid me a visit and to me described this deplorable case, continued President Santer. Also my son, of whom I'm most proud, by the way, for helping to preserve the European culture of eating, has urged me to listen to your comments, Mr. Holmes. I have, because of this, postponed today's session, awaiting your arrival. I will exercise my authority appropriately if Mr Zeiss' description appears to be correct. Mr. Holmes, may I now read your notes?!"

Per Gaggton wailed heavily and tossed and turned on his stretcher. The repairmen had just managed to liberate the copying machine from some thick leather pieces with tufts. They had completely blocked the machine and sabotaged all work at the European Court of Human Rights during several days.

"My ooden shoes," whined Per Gaggton. "The leaher issh from my shoe!"

He got up half the way on his stretcher and the ambulance personnel had to intervene and force him down again.

"You must rest, Monsieur Gaggton," they said. "And absolutely do not prattle more than you usually do! You're best off keeping silent."

Holmes left his notes in the hands of President Santer, who studied them carefully and scrupulously.

"This must not be," said Mr. Santer. "I have, during all my years in public service, never seen such a clear example of violation of human rights. I almost welcome the opportunity to act and make an example of this case for all Europe to know. Imagine having to pay the hideous sum of 798 Swedish kronors just for the permit to put up a sign! Yes, you heard my rightly, not for the sign itself but for the permit! Entirely appalling! I will gladly devote my entire authority to speak he right of this poor but brave used book keeper from Ystad in Sweden, who has been so harshly treated by Swedish authorities. I rest assured that the court will find the Swedish state guilty of wrongdoing and that it will pay back the sum with interest to its rightful owner. To put up a sign is indeed a human right and must not be connected with fees of this magnitude. Monsieur Holmes, I thank you for have prepared this appeal so in detail."

"Very kind of you, Monsieur Santer," said Holmes. "During Watson's and my stay in Skâne last summer, we had the privilege of meeting a certain Mrs. Kant, Swedish but living in Strasbourg since six years. She had, during her stay of holiday in Ystad been horrified by this case. She is a passionate reader of secondhand books and had during her rounds to the book stores learnt about this deplorable story. At a visit to a local cidery, I had the opportunity to exchange a few words with Mrs. Kant, who was of the opinion that no effort should be spared to seek the poodle's core in this dirty business. She even put forward a convincing plan for an appeal."

"Mrs. Kant's deep engagement in this case has also convinced me to take the necessary steps," said Mr. Zeiss. "She came to me last Monday and related the events and I saw no other possibility but to contact you, Mr Holmes, through young Santer here."

"Monsieur Santer," said Holmes, "I'm happy to tell that my confidence in the future is restored. Your work to secure the freedom and guarantee a fair and prosperous future for all citizens of the European Union, built on respect, solidarity and humanism, is perfectly in line with European tradition and I can, when this is over, retire to my age. Thank you, Mr. Santer. I'm proud to contribute to this endeavour. Nowhere else on this planet has man managed to solve his problems without all noise of arms than here in the European Union. Bravo!"

Holmes agreed to come back with me to Baden-Baden, where we continued our interrupted holiday. My friend was now a totally different person and I recognised again his wit and benevolent temper. However, he had obviously been so terribly upset by this matter that he refused at first to comment on it. He did rarely enjoy my company in the evenings and took, apparently long walks, as he was not to be found anywhere until the early morning hours. When one week had passed I engaged my courage and commenced putting some questions before Holmes. There remained a few unclear points that, if I'm to be quite honest, had not yet fully understood.

"Holmes," I asked my friend one evening when we sat in the park tasting a glass of water from the well, "how could you know that the appeal was due to come up before the court on this particular day? And how could Monsieur Zeiss know that we stayed in a bath in Baden-Baden?"

"Watson, my dear friend, said Holmes. We have paid a visit to the 20th century. The moral standards of today are different from our era. The bureaucracy that we have fought successfully is exercised by single individuals, both male and female. Individuals that, luckily, cannot be made to act as bureaucratic machines. In our case, we were lucky to deal with a modern, young and, I daresay, very attractive woman, who, and I tell you this in the strictest of confidence, was not at all unsusceptible to a more mature experience. My discretion forbids me to further enlighten on this point, as you can understand, Watson. The ladies name was in fact Irene and I will do my best to forget her. Let us leave this matter behind and instead enjoy our glass of water."