16:38 London, 221B Baker Street
It had been raining cats and dogs all day, as if today Lord decided to retell the Afghan events to the apostles. Smog in a thick milky veil blocked London, and it was isolated from this mundane world with a low IQ level. Usually this city makes at least some sounds of human presence, like kids screaming, phone calls and other fuss. But not this evening, and it surprised me. For several months of living in London, I noticed it only a few times. I saw in it something sacred, mysterious, an ethical flavor that cannot be misunderstood with any city on Earth.
Flipping through "The Guardian", I didn't delve into the essence of the news, I couldn't concentrate on anything. A fantastic melody played in my head. I would listen to it for hours, not because it is sounding charmingly, but because of hands, which created chords with a bow along the long strings with tenderness and sometimes with particular vigor. His hands.
A few minutes later there was a noise of a door opening and the creaking of the stairs slowly. This consonance brought me out of a foggy state and I put the kettle to bask. Sherlock walked into the room with a stone face, not even looking at me.
- In fact, normal people were taught to say hello.
- Oh campaign, wrong door.
- What happened, Sherlock? You can tell me everything.
*Why am I asking, he never does this...*
He sat on the sofa with his head down, watching Newton's pendulum and joining his fingers in front of his nose. His heavenly blue eyes still remained deep, and I magnetically reached for them. Then, I tried to re-ask him to speak, still worried about his well-being, but stopped. If this situation would be captured on canvas with oil paints, I would look at it forever. But not this time, because the kettle whistled and we instantly became conscious.
- By the way, John, we have a new case.
- Well, I don't hear the orchestra playing, where is the joy in your eyes?
- Lestrade doesn't know how to cheer me up. I don't want to go anywhere. And I won't go.
A minute later, we were sitting in a cab, waiting for arrival at the crime scene. This curly asshole is a master in driving me nuts!
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Heart Echo
FanfictionA story about a typical for the first sight case, which is investigated by Sherlock Holmes and his... really good friend John Watson. Each of them faces the danger, but they're not afraid of dying for each other. Characters: • Benedict Cumberbatch a...
