The first time, it occurred to him as funny that someone had left a green apple on the scene of crime.
The second time, he looked for a possible connection between the two cases, but found none.
The third time, he tried even harder to find a connection, for it could not be true that he found a green apple on the crime scene tree cases in a row.
The fourth time, he asked if anyone had seen the apple before he had arrived, and was told that none had.
The fifth time, he tried to find if any of his previous cases could possibly have bribed someone to place the apple before his arrival.
The sixth time, he bought an apple himself and starred at it for hours, trying to figure it out.
The seventh time, he took a case he could have solved just by reading the newspaper, merely to see if the apple would be there which it was.
The eighth time, he was ready to claw his brain out, trying to find out why the apple stood there.
The ninth time he would be surprised, for there was no apple on the crime scene, instead there stood a dark figure in his home, with an apple in its hand, but it was not the figure of a man, it was the figure of a God. The God of mischief, Loki, himself, whom stood there with an amused smirk on his lips as he placed the apple on Holmes table. He did not care much for the mortals, but this one detective had intrigued his interest. The master detective whom could solve anything, no matter how the odds had turned against him, he always saw the nearly invisible clues and the golden line between them and, really, that just made the tricksters hands itch to place something completely out of place and totally unrelated to the case, and then observe how the detective would solve that which only could be explained by magic.