When I Dvr Does It Still Get Ratings

[Sherlock Holmes] In mist or cloud

Title:
In mist or cloud
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: January
Rating: G


Word Count:
358 (W)

Prompt: the dark and foggy arched streets of the City Tree @
Drabble (

holmes_ita
) + nebbia @
bingo_italia ( tab ) At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. Cominciò nel primo pomeriggio come una bruma leggera, e prima di cena era un manto spesso e opaco di foschia grigiastra. Era un tempo che il mio amico avrebbe amato, considerai seguendo il cappello di Lestrade giù dalla carrozza, non per i suoi meriti estetici ma per le infinite possibilità. La nebbia è amica dei criminali, e il crimine è - Was - what they eat his mind superb. For the rest of us, the fog is not to see beyond their noses, wet moisture that the storm coat and old war wounds. For my friend was a spy, a signal, a cover, a clue, and a thousand other things that I never started to learn. Now the fog had engulfed the lights and I resigned myself to guess Lestrade in the body that preceded me, resisting the urge to stretch an arm to make sure that its feathers were nevertheless real. "Time to dogs, doctor," muttered the inspector, turning to me but not necessarily. He paused for a few seconds, during which After studies, I thought, house numbers engraved on the doors. "Good for thieves and cutthroats." Another pause. "Mr. Holmes would be happy as a child, "she concluded, lightly tinged with caution.
"Oh, yes," I said. "I thought the same thing."
"It could not please anyone ... Ah, here's four hundred twenty-seven."

A muffled peal provenne Lestrade from inside the house when he pulled the rope. Then, when I turned to gaze at the empty street, a strange thing happened. A gust of warm air, found his way to my throat through the coat collar turned up, and a wave of cloth filled the corner of my eye. The passer-by touched my shoulder and went on. The blade of light that opened the door, I saw his back, cutting sharp shoulders and walk decided - the only part of the world, they say, that no man can forge. And I could smell, tobacco and an idea of the colony, and something else that seemed dust, paper dust.

"Come, Doctor," called me from a distance abysmal Lestrade, one or two lives, three years, a million miles.

"Arrival."

I looked the man with the look, but I noticed that you lost.