A loud "knock, knock" brought me to my door. A man, whom I've never seen before looked at me with impatience. He wore a top hat, and a cloak that had seen better days.
"I'm looking for 221B Baker Street. Is this it?"
"No, you are at 22C Beckett Street."
The bedraggled man looked at his paper, squinting.
"Then you are not Sherlock Holmes?"
"No, I am Stanley Jones".
"See here," the man huffed, "I have an appointment at 2p.m. to see Mr. Holmes. Please fetch him."
I looked at the rude man askance. "He is not here. This is not his house, and it is only 11 a.m."
The man looked clearly confused. "I am in need of Mr. Holmes' services. I've lost something precious."
I sighed, and took my coat off the coatrack beside the door. "Here, I will take you to him."
I thought to myself, "This man does need Mr. Holmes, for I fear he has lost his marbles."
165 words
Prompt 2: Write a short story up to 222 words long. Must somehow relate to or include the number 22. Reward: 22k GPs
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