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A Sestina of the Locked

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His genius is known by many enemy,
Form, tall and slender, seen at every case,
Voice calm, emotionless, often quite rude,
But just in end are his actions all, brother.
Clad as he is in coat and blue scarf,
Powerful mind stretched and connecting for the sleuth.

All have heard of that doctor and sleuth,
Yet none profess to have seen his enemy.
Such a fall to end his work, the reddened scarf.
No more will he be seen at work upon a case.
Will any speak to console the icy brother?
How can you no longer believe? So, rude,

You are being, but not in his memory. You are so rude
To defile so the life that was led by that great sleuth.
Beware where you speak so of him, that brother
Tracked him so and looks to protect from that enemy
That put an end to him and led his final case.
Who tied the knot of destiny and dyed the scarf.

That gift, so long past given, that navy scarf.
No longer worn about that silenced, rude,
throat. No longer will that coat show a case.
The mind silenced at long last, to longer sleuth.
The final player gone from the board, the enemy.
Grieve with the elder, that silent brother.

He was never well known, but genius, that brother.
That man of ice and silence had bestowed that scarf
And had feared for the younger and his enemy
Yet never had he angered at that tone, so rude.
Encouraging from the shadows of the tall sleuth
Keeping a proud record of every closed case.

Ever wishing the outcome different to that final case.
How can you find fault in the brother
For searching to find that hidden clue of the sleuth
Folded within his hands a fabric blue, a scarf
Take no heed of his words, harsh or rude
He longs to have caused the end of that enemy.

However he finds the case as bloody as that scarf
Had been. And the brother is harsh and rude
To those who speak ill of the sleuth who fell to his enemy.