It started out as any normal day; well, any normal day living with Sherlock Holmes, anyway. I walked into the living room after making myself a spot of tea and proceeded to sit in my chair to begin reading this morning's paper. Sherlock, in turn, curled up into a ball and sat in his chair, uttering the word "bored" in long, drawn-out, and dulcet tones. Every so often, he would fall out of his chair. I laughed inwardly, of course, but it was very difficult to maintain. After a while, Sherlock asked, "Anything interesting in the news today, John?" his eyes scanning my face, "Your pupils dilated as they passed over that section." I have become quite used to his observations.
"Nothing interesting," I replied. However, this seemed not to be a good enough answer for the clearly bored Sherlock. He bolted from his chair and seized me by the shoulders.
"What did the article say, John?" he demanded.
"Alright, alright, I'll tell you! But like I've said, it won't be interesting for you!"
"Indulge me,"
"Elie Goulding's been trying out a new hair dye; a new shade of purple that could be harmful to her hair," I chuckled slightly, expecting a bored answer.
"Ah, yes, because a celebrity's hair color is *so* interesting," he replied, predictably. I resumed reading the paper. After several minutes, Sherlock proceeded to fling his pillow at my newspaper, causing it to rip in half.
"Sherlock!" I exclaimed, "No matter, I'll just go ask Ms. Hudson to see if she has anymore," I walked down the stairs to Ms. Hudson, while hearing the faint sound of gunshots slamming against the wall. Sherlock was obviously bored again. "You're lucky Ms. Hudson had a few to spare," I said slightly annoyed. His eyes scanned my appearance again.
"By your smile and stature, it seems you've got someone,"
"Got someone? What, you mean like... a girlfriend?" I replied, slightly confused as he knew perfectly well that Sarah and I had stopped seeing each other.
"Not necessarily a girlfriend, but you've got a fancy on someone," he replied, smiling knowingly. His intrusions into my love life always flustered me, but I didn't give him a response this time, but I muttered "Irene Adler" under my breath and catching a rather nasty look from Sherlock. My eyes gazed instead to an article in the paper titled "Triple Murder at St. Bartholemew's, Vampires Expected". Sherlock's eyes met mine, "What is it, John," he asked quite plainly.
"Triple murder at St. Bartholemew's. Rumours are going around that vampires are the suspected culprit," I said. At this remark he simply scoffed.
"The hounds weren't real, and neither will these vampires," he said while grabbing his trench coat and scarf, "Come Watson, lets go investigate." I grabbed my jacket and followed him out the door.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The crime scene was like nothing to what I expected. Sherlock's mind had already begun to go to work as he scanned the whole scene. The three bodies laid side by side, all with dark looking faces and dirtied skin. We approached the bodies, Sherlock's eyes glanced over every inch of them. I usually let Sherlock take the reins on this sort of stuff.
After a couple seconds time, he enlightened us with an explanation, "Of course its obvious that these people were not killed by vampires. The two puncture wounds here," he said as he pointed to the necks of all three victims, "have fresher blood than the rest of the body. Also, the dirtied fingernails show signs of a struggle. If it truly were a vampire, the victims would have a rather difficult time trying to escape.
BLOG ENTRY IN PROGRESS (aka, I need a more devoped ideA
