as the rain hammered against the window of the apartment of 21B Baker Street, you sat curled up in a ball on the old but grand-looking sofa in the living room. you sat staring into space, piercing holes into the mahogany wood table in front of you, still and emotionless. you had been numbed by what you had just been through.

but your partner was the one to save you from it all tonight, and that was Sherlock Holmes. there he was, swooping onto the scene like a superhero to save the day. and yes you were saved. you were taken home to your shared apartment, cleaned and bandaged up from the wounds you have had inflicted on you, and now you were just trying to recover.

“blimey, the weather is absolutely terrible,” Sherlock muttered softly, trying to change the subject from the incident that had occurred. he was leant on the wall with his head resting gently on the window pane, staring out the window and the large storm that had suddenly hit the city.