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“Only partly. But he’s a curious fellow, isn’t he?”

“The stone?”

“Yes, the stone, lying there in the palm of your gloved hand.” Holmes, in a playful mood, gave a devil of grin. “Come on, play the game, Watson. Read the stone. See its appearance, the markings upon its surface. Feel its weight. Gauge its constitution. If it pleases you, describe to me any clairvoyant vibration that may emanate from its stony heart.”

“You are teasing me, Holmes.”

“I am. Yes.”

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Forgive me please, Doctor; I am teasing you, for the case I have taken is, if I’m not mistaken, nothing more than a tease, a practical joke, a whimsical prank.”

“Then I am all in the dark.”

“Ha! But soon all will be clear as day.”

“What possessed you to accept such a case?”

“Normally, I wouldn’t have glanced at it twice. However, I am acquainted with the gentleman involved.”

“A friend?”

“Ah, I would describe you as my sole friend, Watson. This gentleman, although I have never yet met him in person, was of considerable service in the past when he furnished me with invaluable information on the constitution of certain metals, which enabled me to lay to rest the matter of the golden bullet murders in King’s Lynne. In short, I owe him one small favour. By Jove! Look at that, London becomes busier by the day. Within a decade the city will become so congested the only sure transport will be by Shanks’s pony!”

“Then at least our slow passage northwards to Hampstead will give you sufficient time to tell me the facts of the case before we reach the home of your client.”

“Indeed it will. First, Watson, the stone! Pray focus your attention upon it. Read it as if it were the page from a book.” With that my friend placed the tips of his long fingers together, closed his eyes; only the slight wrinkling of his forehead beneath the brim of his shiny top hat betraying he would listen closely to my every word.

I listed everything of significance I could discern from the stone. “Weight: let me see. An ounce, perhaps. Size: no larger than a grape. Shape: pear shaped. Colour: um, silvery. Odour: none. Appearance: smooth as glass; subjected to intense heat, I would surmise.”

“Where is it from?” asked Holmes without opening his eyes.

“A furnace I should suppose, before that I dare not say.”

“Ha!” Holmes opened his penetrating eyes.

“You know where the stone originated?”

“Indeed. It came from the depths of the universe. The scorched appearance of the stone was caused by its headlong rush through our world’s atmosphere. The speed being so great that the very air rubbing against the surface produced such tremendous temperatures those surfaces did in fact melt, hence the ablated base of the stone.”

“Good Lord, then it is an aerolite?”

“Spot on, Watson. Yes, an aerolite, more commonly known as a shooting star or meteorite. Above us, in the heavens, are countless millions of stone fragments, whirling silently through the cold depths of space. Occasionally one falls to Earth. One might look up on a clear night and see the fiery trail one of these fragments makes. Only rarely do they reach the surface of the Earth.”

I looked at our stony visitor from the heavens with more interest. “Then it’s valuable?”

“Pooh, pooh, not in the least. A few shillings.”

“But you say it has a bearing on the case?”

“Again I can only repeat partly. I brought it along as an introduction to the facts. This stone itself, I purchased along with a trunkful of other mineral samples many years ago.” He took the stone from me, held it between the finger and thumb of his gloved hand, his face in profile to me, his striking aquiline features just inches from the stone as his heavy-lidded eyes gazed dreamily upon it. “Imagine though, Watson if you will. This slight chip of stone, so insignificant in appearance, has drifted between the stars for many millions of years. By chance it struck this world, where it whistled groundward in a fiery streak of light. Imagine if the stone were large enough for you and I to ride upon it as it flew high