Cold Blooded Tragedy

Why? Just . . . why?

221B Bake St.
12:10am
Holmes's (P.O.V)

I sigh in exhaustion as well as frustration as I work on one of my experiments. A little shock there. A little flame there. Unfortunately none of it resulting in the desired effect I had invisioned.

Ive gone about a week without sleep, consulting on a case, for Lastrade, well . . . more like solving the case for Lastrade and dabbling in a bit of pugilism.

I'm exhausted, mind and body. My eyes become heavy and I cant help but let my chin gradually drop to my chest. Emediately, I snap my head up and open my eyes, not willing to concede to the peaceful darkness and rest I know I need.

I hear grunting and panting emanating from under my desk. I cock my head and lean over, looking under the desk to find Gladstone. "Hello, Gladstone." He grunts and sniffles in response before flopping down on the floor and resting his fat, floppy head on my foot. I smile and par him, affectionately on the head before sitting back up.

I yawn, stretching my arms up in the air, behind my head before pressing forward with my work. Unfortunately my body does not agree with my mind and takes the initiative. My eyes close and my head falls on top of my desk as my top half then lays sprawled across the desk.

1:15am
General (P.O.V)

Holmes lyes sound asleep atop his messy and cluttered desk completely unaware of his flat's window being shattered. Holmes doesnt even stir.

"Come on, would'ya!?" One of the three men breaking into Holmes's flat, whisper/yells to the other two men.

They fallow their leader's suit and quietly crawl into the flat. They stand up, shaking and patting their clothes, removing glass shards and dirt before looking around the room.

"This place is worse than mine." One of the thugs exclaims, quietly. They nod in agreement before proceeding further into the room.

All three men's heads snap towards another part of the room when they hear a bark.

Gladstone waddles out from under the desk, growling, snorting and barking. He does not like these strangers sneaking into his master's home, niether does he like the smell of alcohol, grime and smoke that is coming from the strangers.

"Damn it!" One of the thugs yells. "Mmmm." Holmes groans awake, the ruckus finally seeping into his unconcious. He grogilly lifts his head up and blinks the blurryness of sleep from his eyes.

When his sences clear, he's met with the three men. Before he can process the entire situation and what the next move should be, the men charge at him.

Reacting quickly Holmes bolts up out of his seat and ducks, dodging a punch in the face. Holmes then grabs some books from the floor and tosses them at the thugs. One of the books corner hits one of the thugs in the eye, inlisting a yell.

Holmes tries to distance himself from the onslaught of these criminals, grabbing various objects from the floor and tables to throw at his attackers, all the while, Glastone backs and squeals.

Gladstone then quickly waddles over and wraps his slobbery jaws on one of the attackers legs. "Aaa!" He looks down and attempts to kick the heavy, tank like dog off of his leg. On the third kick, he manages to get the dog off of his leg. Gladstone falls back with a grunt.