Author: MonkeyBard
Rating: PG
Summary: Holmes is no botanist, but he does know his poisons.
Date: 29 July 2013
Prompt: Drabble, drabble, toil and scribble: Write a drabble of either exactly 100 words, or write a 221(b) (two hundred and twenty one words, ending with a word that starts with b).
A/N: This is a well-timed prompt. Since I didn't have time to write the second fic I thought of yesterday, I'm using today to do so. (Yes. I didn't even have time to write another 221B or a drabble yesterday, I was that busy.)
Yesterday's prompt: Botany Bay: Plants frequently play an important part in Holmesian stories. Pick an herb, flower, or other plant, and make it a key part of your entry today.

Sergeant Anderson was new to the force and newer still to dealing with Sherlock Holmes. He's an eager young man and shows great potential. On this occasion, however, I should never have let him open his mouth.

"We're questioning the kitchen staff. It's clearly one of them," he said.

Mr Holmes barely spared him a disdainful glance and I winced at Anderson's foolish confidence. "You fail to take into account the house staff who were serving the meal. But that is irrelevant." The detective turned to me. "Inspector Lestrade, I recommend you find the gardener."

"Gardener, Holmes?" asked Watson. "Whatever for?"

"This house has a small kitchen garden to the south side, Watson, which you ought to have observed as we arrived. It is small enough that it requires but a single gardener to tend it. Among the culinary herbs, I believe you will find a large rheum rhabarbarum."

"But the family fell ill before reaching the rhubarb pudding." If Mr Holmes was surprised at my familiarity with the Latin, he didn't show it.

"Not the pudding, Inspector, but the stewed greens served with the meal!" the detective declared.

I turned to Anderson, and ordered, "Round up the gardener!" He and young Donovan shot off, but the lad was back in mere moments.

"Inspector, sir! She saw us coming and bolted!"

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