Detectives assembled


In a dark and mould covered room,

Securely locked from the inside,

The body of the Duke of Leicestershire,

Took his final breath and died.


His butler called Bob was worried,

Reported him missing last week,

He didn’t mention the row though,

He had information they did seek.


A resentful landlord was summoned,

To check an empty top floor flat,

He cursed the Gods above him blue,

When he was on the welcome mat.


The locksmith cost him sixty quid,

To break in his own peeling door,

But suddenly the smell hit them,

sending them choking to the floor.


They recovered to their shaky feet,

Started peering into the gloom,

Seeing the Duke of Leicestershire,

Laying in his empty pauper’s tomb.


The man’s pale face staring fixedly,

Through the waterfall of blood,

The police were called straight away,

From where the onlookers stood.


The police came in their force,

Do not cross tape and all,

All their tests came back negative,

Questions hit a brick wall.


They needed some greater minds,

Only one team fit this big case,

Called The Detectives Assembled,

Each member a deduction ace,


Sherlock Holmes is the first one,

The master of logical thinking,

A genius with a one tracked mind,

Solves sudokus without blinking.


Hercule Poirot the foreign star,

Hears it all and never forgets,

The immaculately dressed man,

Knows every killer’s evil targets.


Miss Marple acts the perfect lady,

The intellect you would dismiss,

But ignore her at your naïve peril,

She knows the baddy’s business,


Jonathan Creek is the newcomer,

Sees through all traps and tricks,

A guru in all magical stage illusions,

Always escapes when in a fix.



They all arrived in a new black van,

Emblazoned with the letters D A,

Driven by a harassed doctor Watson,

Everyone telling him the best way,


The team jumped out and posed,

A photo opportunity for all around,

Then one by one entered the tomb,

Each making an agreement sound.


The police and suspects watched them,

That meticulously created sweep,

No words were uttered between them,

Just Sherlock’s smart phone beep.


Half an hour later they all came out,

Poirot started his summing up,

Sherlock cut across him suddenly,

This is a team, will you shut up.


The audience stood in total silence,

Waiting to be totally amazed,

Jonathan Creek started the story,

Which every eye was gazed.


It was quite easy to figure out,

The door wasn’t really locked,

I could see inside the keyhole,

I never use bluetack he mocked.


Miss Marple started explaining,

The body had been moved,

Killed somewhere else entirely,

Dust on the floor was grooved.


Then a French accent rang out,

S’il vous plait I know the weapon,

A copper frying pan did the crime,

Like you cook a beau crepe on.


Suddenly Sherlock began talking,

This act was committed by two,

The locksmith provided the tomb,

But the murder was done by who.


I have been through Bob’s emails,

A really easy password to crack,

I found some from your solicitors,

The Duke wanted something back.


You borrowed money for a yacht,

And a Panamanian beach hut,

You didn’t want to pay him back,

I think that’s another case shut.


The Detectives Assembled left,

As suddenly as they’d arrive,

And yes, poor doctor Watson,

Had to suffer the noisy drive.


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