On some days, it's hard to stand the monotony of waiting for the whiff of a homicide...
I find myself dreaming to see those flashing blue lights from behind the dingy curtains (Mrs. Hudson's choice, nonetheless) of my coop of a flat. How can one be expected to live in such droll times, with no one but a skull for companionship?! (Watson doesn't count...he's too busy chasing the other 'sirens' to notice or care about my slowly rotting brain...rotting from BOREDOM)?!
Good thing Mrs. Hudson is here to supply my grey matter with nutritious green tea. It'll have to do...for now, my only adventures brew in a kettle.
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