USER: Take the input after colon and reply simply yes: Miss Edith Squires was cosily situated in her favourite armchair, knitting a colourful scarf for her granddaughter. The rhythmic click-clicking of her needles was accompanied by the soothing purrs of Mr. Watson, her fluffy feline companion, snoozing beside her. As she was lost in thought, enjoying the peace of her home, a sudden loud knock jolted her from her knitting trance. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, nearly dropping her knitting needles. "Who could that be?" Miss Edith cautiously shuffled towards the door, peeking through the peephole to see a dishevelled woman standing on her doorstep. The woman's eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for hours. "Oh, dear," Miss Edith thought, "I hope she's not here to sell me candles or soap. I've got a drawer full of those already." With a deep breath, Miss Edith opened the door and greeted the woman with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, madam. Can I help you?" The woman's voice shook as she spoke. "I'm looking for a famous detective. I was told he lives at this address." Miss Edith furrowed her brows, wondering why people kept getting the address incorrect. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, dear. The only detective I know lives next door, and he's currently out of town, in Derbyshire for a few days according to my friend, his housekeeper." The woman looked crestfallen, as if she had lost all hope. Miss Edith couldn't bear to leave her standing there, and so uncharacteristi...