In a town, in the Steam punk Era

Of gears and oil, of clicks and rust.

A grand detective, one very boastful,

And his student, who holds his trust.

"This new case, it's nothing special." Said the detective.

"It'll sounds rather old and bore."

"It sounds rather difficult and eerie" Said the student.

"Full of violence, cruelty and gore."

"Why this is nothing! Though it'll make me look good.

Yes, I can solve anything, glory belongs to me!"

"What if you can't solve it?

This case doesn't look like it seems."

"Why so little faith in me!?"

I'll find this murderer, I doubt he ran on for miles!"

The angered detective look at his student,

Whose face had on a cruel smile.

"Well, the murderer didn't ran miles away."

He pulled out a small gun,

One with gears and fine silver.

"Now it's time for my fun."

Pointing the gun at the detective, he said

"You go on and on about yourself, loud as a preacher,

Now observe my dear detective,

The student has become the teacher."

Haven't typed a poem in a while. If there's any grammar/spelling mistakes please tell me. Thank you.