Ficly

The Game is Afoot

“What is it?”
“It appears to be a footprint.”
“I can see that. Surely you don’t believe it’s genuine?”
“I have yet to form a conclusion. I need more data. Please hand me my instruments.”
“Here. This has to be a joke of some sort. A ruse to divert us from the case at hand…”
“I don’t believe so. See here? The mud is pushed forward in between the toes. And the depth, look here. Whatever left these indentations was moving at great speed, as fast as a steam engine, and weighed several tonnes. Whatever this is, it is not a ruse.”
“Perhaps a machine?”
“No. A machine would leave a more uniform pattern, and these prints clearly show difference in stride and orientation as the pursuer and perused ran down this street, towards Hyde Park. Come, we haven’t much time.”
“You’re not suggesting…”
“Indeed I am. If one removes the impossible, whatever remains, however unlikely, must be the truth. This can mean only one thing: there is a dinosaur on the loose in London.”

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