It was an evening not unlike any other at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes was pacing in front of the fireplace when his good friend and oft unassuming assistant, Dr. Watson arrived. Reading the room, Dr. Watson said nary a word as holmes handed him the obituary section of the Pembroke Times, a local paper. At the top an article read "Mysterious Note in Retired Royal Naval Officers Effects," and it clearly had the cogs in Sherlock's brain whirring at full speed.
As Watson's eye's scanned the page he became aware that Sherlock was muttering to himself as he paced. Catching only every other seemingly random word Watson was able to discern no pattern in the words: Honduras... Madagascar... Times... Zulu... Face.... Flags... Hmmmm 'fore perhaps... Knowing that Holmes would eventually catch him up on his train of thought, Watson poured himself a cup of tea and made himself comfortable. He drifted off to sleep without even realizing it.
When Watson awoke the fire was low and his tea had grown cold. Sherlock was grinning at him from over the top of his glasses: "Why it's Elementary my dear Watson! Book some tickets; we're heading to Virginia."