Nothing happened for a moment, and then the lure suddenly jerked below the surface of the lake. Crowe hauled on the rod, simultaneously winding the reel in as fast as he could. The water exploded upward in silvery droplets, in the centre of which writhed a fish. Its mouth was caught up in the hook which had been hidden inside the lure and its scales were mottled in brown. Crowe flicked his rod expertly upward and the fish virtually flew into the boat, where it flapped frantically. Holding on to the rod with one hand so that it didn’t fall into the water, Crowe reached behind him with the other and pulled a wooden club from beneath his seat. One quick blow and the fish was still.

‘So what have we covered today?’ he asked genially as he detached the hook from the trout’s mouth. ‘Know the habits of your prey, know what bait he’s likely to go for, and know what the signs are that he’s in the vicinity. Do all that, and you’ve maximized your chances of a successful hunt.’

‘But when am I ever likely to be hunting someone or something?’ Sherlock asked, understanding the basics of the lesson but unsure how they applied to him. ‘I know you used to be a bounty hunter, back in America, but I doubt I’ll ever go into that profession. I’m more likely to end up as a banker or something.’ Even as he said the words he felt his heart sink. The last thing in the world he wanted to do with his life was a boring desk job, but he wasn’t sure what else there was for him.

‘Oh, life’s full of things you might want to catch,’ Crowe said, throwing the fish into the basket and placing the wicker lid over the top. ‘You might want to flush out investors for some moneymakin’ scheme you’ve come up with. You might consider findin’ yourself a wife at some stage. You might be trackin’ down a man who owes you money.