The birds were chirping on the window sill of our Baker Street flat as I sat reading the papers. From the adjoining room came mournful squeaks as Sherlock Holmes fiddled with his violin. My friend came in and I put down the paper.
I say, Holmes, I exclaimed. Isn't it funny how Sonia Gandhi suddenly resigned? Surely Pawar's letter couldn't have upset her that much! Seems a dashed mystery, what? My friend thoughtfully sucked at his pipe. It is puzzling, Watson, he said. I don't think she was indulging in histrionics!
Tir 
