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betonit
Mar. 8th, 2012 04:36 pmSherlock plucked away at the strings of his violin, not in contemplation, but in frustration. His morning spent assuring their landlady, Mrs. Hudson, would have her rent by the next day, and then spent sending a telegraph to his brother to ask for assistance, he was in far from a decent mood to say the very least of it.
Ruminations aside, he should have been pleased, he had a thrilling new case that could prove to be most adventurous, and his mind could use the respite from the monotony of late. Still, his eyes remained fixed out the window of their flat, on the dreary, gray world outside, and the people milling about and going on with their daily tasks.
Flour on cuff. Baker. Grease on cheek and sleeves. Factory worker. Blood specks on sleeve and collar, pattern indicates other cloth was covering the area, so a butcher. Difficult to tell what sort of animal it was from this distance.
Pluck. Governess. Pluck. Teacher. Pluck. Doctor. Pluck. Mother of eight. Pluck--
Footsteps told him of his freshly roused companion, and he continued to pluck at the strings of his violin as he waited for Watson to come to his eventual conclusions. As he entered his room, he did not look up at him, still far too annoyed to offer more than a scathing glance.
"I've taken it upon myself to relieve you of your checkbook and what small amount of coin you had on your person after last night. It's locked safely in my drawer, and I expect you'll ask me for it when you find yourself in need of it."
Ruminations aside, he should have been pleased, he had a thrilling new case that could prove to be most adventurous, and his mind could use the respite from the monotony of late. Still, his eyes remained fixed out the window of their flat, on the dreary, gray world outside, and the people milling about and going on with their daily tasks.
Flour on cuff. Baker. Grease on cheek and sleeves. Factory worker. Blood specks on sleeve and collar, pattern indicates other cloth was covering the area, so a butcher. Difficult to tell what sort of animal it was from this distance.
Pluck. Governess. Pluck. Teacher. Pluck. Doctor. Pluck. Mother of eight. Pluck--
Footsteps told him of his freshly roused companion, and he continued to pluck at the strings of his violin as he waited for Watson to come to his eventual conclusions. As he entered his room, he did not look up at him, still far too annoyed to offer more than a scathing glance.
"I've taken it upon myself to relieve you of your checkbook and what small amount of coin you had on your person after last night. It's locked safely in my drawer, and I expect you'll ask me for it when you find yourself in need of it."
