Author's Note: This poem is a serious, but affectionate parody of J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lament for Boromir" from the novel The Two Towers, in which the speaker asks the four winds what has become of the lost hero. I must admit a couple of the lines below are lifted entirely from the novel, but I tried to keep things as original as possible. This Sherlockian version is set during the Great Hiatus.

The Fall and Rise of Sherlock Holmes

Through London over tower and bridge where the black raven cries

the East Wind comes crying, and around the walls it sighs.

What news from the East, O wandering wind, do you bright to me tonight?

Have you seen mighty Sherlock Holmes by moon or by starlight?

"I saw him leave Victoria, on iron rails of grey

I saw him ride with Watson, until he passed away

into the shadowed, misty coast, where the leaping channel foams.

The South Wind may have heard the voice of the noble Sherlock Holmes."

From the mouth of the sea the South Wind flies from the sandhills and the stones;

the wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.

What news of the South, O wailing wind, do you bring to me at eve?

Where now is Sherlock Holmes the great? He tarries and I grieve.

"Ask not of me where he doth dwell—he took a ship at dawn

and the white foam and the grey sea know now where he has gone.

He may have passed from hence to France, or further it may be;

ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind takes from me."

From Switzerland the North Wind rides, from Reichenbach's cold falls

And clear and cold in Meiringen its loud horn calls.

What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?

What news of Sherlock Holmes the bold? For he is long away.

"Beneath Reichenbach I heard his cry – a dreadful foe he slew!

His alpenstock, his silver case, his note the only clue

to where he lies; and Watson, with fear and grief oppressed,

knew that Reichenbach had claimed the wisest and the best."

From Italy the West Wind comes, with a mighty sweep of wings

Through Araby and far Tibet its song of wonder rings.

"I saw the battle at the falls where Moriarty fell,

but Holmes remained and foiled Moran, and is alive and well.

As Sigerson he roams the world until the tide is turned

And at last the Four Winds sing aloud: The Master has Returned!"

O, Sherlock Holmes! The Four Winds come to sweep the foggy haze

that wraps a grieving London town – and let your glory blaze.