Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock Holmes. Wish I did though.
Stagnation
"My mind rebels against stagnation," I muttered disdainfully to my colleague and friend while I sat lazily in an armchair, pipe in mouth and the remnants of the Turkish tobacco wafting around my head in blue concentric circles.
"Then do a puzzle, Holmes," Watson replied nonchalantly. My gaze diverted to him. Oh how easy was it for him to say that. He didn't have to search hard and wide for something to distract his plebian mind. There he was busily scribbling in his journal the details of our last case from two weeks ago and here I am wasting away my mind, staring blankly at the initials of our beloved monarch.
"No, puzzle, on this earth whatsoever can give me the stimulation I need, Watson," I scoffed haughtily. "Murder! Theft! Conspiracy! I need those, my dear fellow! Why must the criminal world cease their activities at this time of the year?" That time of year being the winter season where not even the lowest dregs of life would dare face the cold, biting breath of Father Winter.
I heard my friend stop with his pen and set it down. I knew he had lifted his gaze from the pages to look up at me and his sigh of exasperation told me well enough that he had come up with something that would occupy my time for this night at least. Our ritual conversation was imminent.
"Dinner, Holmes?"
"Sounds intriguing."
"Simpsons?"
"Delightful."
"Good." I heard Watson shuffle his note papers and replace them back into his case folder before he spoke again; waiting to hear what ungodly thing he was going to make me do this night just so we could have dinner together as two friends. "Be sure to shave, Holmes."
"You shave." I quipped smartly.
"Holmes."
"Watson."
I knew he was wearing that infectious grin of his and soon I felt it creeping across my own face. Yes. My Boswell knew very well how to get me out of my doldrums even if it is for just one night.