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Case call'So what's this, then?' Molly asked quietly as Sherlock peered into the man's ears, nose, and mouth.
Sherlock didn't look up as he responded. 'I want to study the effects of poison after death...' He sighed, looking up. 'Unless you've got a more entertaining idea?'
'No. I'm too boring and stupid,' Molly said quietly.
The blue-grey eyes flashed up, almost looking startled. 'I---'
Molly shook her head. 'Nevermind. Which poisons...?'
'Erm...' Sherlock blinked and then looked beside him. 'Right. Arsenic, mercury...maybe a few animal venoms...' He held up on of the needles. 'Mercury first....Should I do injection or oral...?'
Sherlock looked up, swiftly slipping the needle into the man's arm. 'Text me the results whenever they appear...'
'Sure...' Molly looked awkwardly from Lestrade to Sherlock. 'Case then. Right. Er....I'd better--' She gestured and quickly left.
'Where?' Sherlock asked. 'Or should I ask who?'
'James Blessington...' Lestrade gave the address and
Cat'So how exactly did you break your wrist?' Lestrade was frowning. 'Were you chasing someone and fell?'
Sherlock snorted. 'Fell from a tree,' he muttered.
I smirked. 'No, tell him Sherlock.'
'What?' Lestrade asked, looking at my smile. 'What about a tree...?'
Sherlock shook his head.
'A branch broke under him while he was getting down some little girl's cat,' I said.
Lestrade grinned. 'Really? Ha!'
'Shut up,' Sherlock said quietly. I'd splinted his wrist myself--he was always refusing hospitals. 'Have you got a case or is this just a social call?'
'Social call,' Lestrade said simply. 'John and I are basically mates, remember? He knows my first name...What're you always saying about attention to detail?'
'Detail that doesn't involve the boring name "Greg"?' Sherlock said dryly. 'He looked up at Lestrade, looking bored. 'I wouldn't use any of John's beer in the refrigerator...The bag's right next to the beer....'
'Bag of...' Lestrade sighed. 'Dare I ask?'
'Nope!' I said. 'Going out for a
I sighed. 'Well, what do you want me to do about it?'
Sherlock sighed, flopping over on the sofa, his lanky bangs flipping limply across his forehead. 'Distract me...be entertaining.....' He groaned. 'ANYTHING......'
I shook my head. 'Sherlock, I'm not just you're personal form of entertainment. Amuse yourself somehow, quit bothering me.' I looked back over to my paper.
'Fine.' Sherlock sounded resigned as he crossed the room. I looked up to see him grab a poker from the fire place.
'Sherlock, what're you--?'
He swung the poker at his chair, hitting it hard and sending cushion stuffing flying.
'No, stop Sherlock!'
He'd swung again. I stood quickly and grabbed the poker from him before he could cause anymore damage.
'What the HELL are you doing!?'
'Told you; I was bored...' Sherlock dropped his arm limply and I put the poker back.
'That better not have been one of Mrs. Hudson's chairs...' I sighed. 'Okay, you want a distraction?' I handed him my laptop. 'Sit down with this a
HP Sherlock crossover Year 1.11That night Sherlock sneaked out of the common room and out onto the grounds. It wasn't long before he found the sight of the murder.He didn't want to light his wand for fear of attracting attention, so he knelt down and squinted at the ground.
It did look like an explosion. The ground was ravaged. And marks of blood showed where the body had been thrown. Sherlock felt the deep indent in the ground where whatever it was must have hit. Then he raised his fingertips to his face and stared at them as he rubbed them together. 'Potion?' he muttered. Then he smelled his fingers.
Sherlock took one last look around before standing up and leaving.
Halloween soon came quickly after that. Sherlock had been spending some time in the library, looking through books on potions and refusing any questions from John. There had also been a few small cases for Sherlock to solve. But despite however many people he helped, everyone still seemed to dislike him.
Sherlock had also been trying in vain to teach J
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More