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Welcome back to 221 B stories, mystery lovers. Tonight's tale, "The Whispers of Westminster," promises shadows, secrets, and suspicious characters. Grab your favorite blanket, dim the lights, and join us as we unravel another Victorian puzzle together.

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Well now, don' worry yerself about the hippogriffs. They're proud creatures, see, but treat 'em with respect an' they'll do the same fer you. Just bow nice an' polite-like, that's the trick. Amazin' creatures, really amazin'.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of the open rails under your wheels, especially for a Great Western engine. We must always strive to be really useful, even when the work is hard. My narrow escape from the scrapyard taught me that bravery keeps us steaming ahead.

Ah, my dear friend, you see, it's quite like a proper English garden, isn't it? Sometimes messy, but always charming, you know what I mean? Just needs a bit of patience, a splash of rain, and oh yes, definitely a good chat over the fence with neighbors.

The clansmen barely ken her, and the Highlanders never accepted her as one of their own. In a few years, there would be a vague memory that a Sassenach healer had once walked among them, and that would be forgotten too. Goodbye Claire Fraser, we barely ken you.

You know what people tell me nowadays? "Alan, you think too much about everything." But I say, isn't that exactly what makes life interesting? Like watching clouds - some see shapes, others just see water vapor. I prefer to see the dragons and castles.

Fear is a natural thing, Harry, but it need not rule you. I remember your father facing his own shadows with a laugh and a loyal friend by his side. You possess his courage, and that is a magic far greater than any spell I could teach.