"Holmes", I exclaimed in astonishment, "How did you fabricate the iddybiddypoo out of the brallah sue? I have to confess that all is dark to me…"

I could hear Holmes' dry chuckle. "Ah Watson, you can neither see nor observe at present."

The deductional faculties my friend possesses in such abundance have often amazed me, but never more than now. Deeply impressed by the clear-sightedness with which he detected not only the obscure, but also the obvious, I removed the antimacassar that had settled over my head during Motherspaw's caroming. Promptly my visional faculties were restored. Not that it did anything to further my observational aptitudes, though…

"Now, about the gibberish?", I inquired. "Watson, it is as obvious as that silly moustache in your face!" Indignation rose in me and I could feel the whiskers of my facial decoration, that had hitherto curved dashingly upwards, droop in mortification.

"Holmes, I protest! My moustache is not silly…"

"I apologize, my friend. It appears that my nerves are a bit frayed. Let us agree that your moustache is not silly, but simply absurd." I heaved a sigh of relief as my facial hair resumed its daring upward curve.

Then a sudden thought struck me. "Ouch!" I would have a nice bruise the next morning. "Holmes!" I cried out "You wrote down the iddybiddypoo message and ordered Motherspaw to pin it to his nightshirt, so that the stickfigures would try to decipher the meaning and won't be able to wreak any havoc at night!" I felt quite warm in my animation.

"Watson, you are positively scintillating!" A surge of pride went through me. It was not often that Holmes bestowed such praise. I felt warmer still, strangely enough mostly in my right leg…

"Watson, I repeat: you are scintillating! You are sitting too close to the fire." Holmes pointed to my right trouser leg, that was emitting sparks as it slowly smouldered. I have always thought that floral arrangements are not only pleasing to the eye, but have their eminently practical uses. I quickly extinguished the flames with the water of a flower vase.

"We will worm our way through this mystery" Holmes uttered in an somber voice, as he watched one of the little angling worms he had collected earlier and that had escaped his pocket, make its purposeful way into the open bottle of brandy. I almost had the impression that the little adventurous fellow was wearing a sombrero, but that must have been an optical illusion.

"Yes" Holmes resumed, as the worm plummeted into the alcoholic liquid, "these are deep waters indeed." I looked uncomforably at the puddle that had formed around my feet.

"Gentlemen, the experiences I was fortunate enough to gather during my visit to Lhasa make it clear to me, that both messages - which you deigned to classify as gibberish - are in fact translations of ancient Tibetan mantras used by Buddhist monks to elevate their minds to the level of sacred 12-year-old llamas…"

The colonel and I looked at each other with an expression that closely resembled that of those pack animals Holmes had just mentioned.