A Bit Too Heavy
May. 24th, 2006 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
twincityhackerSherlock Holmes. Float On. About 300 words.
Watson sat in his armchair, book sitting in his lap forgotten, stareing out sitting room window at yellow fog of London as it twisted though the narrow streets of the city.
Behind him, he could hear someone coming up the stairs and dearly hoped it was either Holmes or Mrs. Hudson. While these days his pain was manageable, when the weather was like it was today, Watson became a fixture in his armchair. And if he lacked the energy to be even up and about in their rooms, he most definitely did not feel up to persuading a potential client that they had return later today if they wished to speak with his fellow lodger.
The door abruptly banged open, and Holmes walked into the room, muttering to himself.
"Solved the case then?"
"Of course I solved the case," the other man huffed. "It was laughably easy. I would have been able to tell Gregory which man was his from our rooms had the inspector remembered the details of the case better!" Holmes ungracefully flopped into the other armchair as he continuted to point out what he precived as Greogry's other one hundred sins.
"We all can't have your mind for detail, Holmes." Watson dryly said, after he heard a pause in the litanty.
Holmes grunted.
Watson could tell that Holmes was sliding into one of his black moods. He turned his head towards his friend and debated mentally whether this was something he could cure or not. After a few moments thought, he turned back to the window and the twisting fog. Some things just had to work themselves out.
Watson sat in his armchair, book sitting in his lap forgotten, stareing out sitting room window at yellow fog of London as it twisted though the narrow streets of the city.
Behind him, he could hear someone coming up the stairs and dearly hoped it was either Holmes or Mrs. Hudson. While these days his pain was manageable, when the weather was like it was today, Watson became a fixture in his armchair. And if he lacked the energy to be even up and about in their rooms, he most definitely did not feel up to persuading a potential client that they had return later today if they wished to speak with his fellow lodger.
The door abruptly banged open, and Holmes walked into the room, muttering to himself.
"Solved the case then?"
"Of course I solved the case," the other man huffed. "It was laughably easy. I would have been able to tell Gregory which man was his from our rooms had the inspector remembered the details of the case better!" Holmes ungracefully flopped into the other armchair as he continuted to point out what he precived as Greogry's other one hundred sins.
"We all can't have your mind for detail, Holmes." Watson dryly said, after he heard a pause in the litanty.
Holmes grunted.
Watson could tell that Holmes was sliding into one of his black moods. He turned his head towards his friend and debated mentally whether this was something he could cure or not. After a few moments thought, he turned back to the window and the twisting fog. Some things just had to work themselves out.
