Sherlockian Poetry
KS: I was bored, and started to write some Sherlockian poetry. I've never been a poet, but I decided to share it anyways. Each chapter will have one poem. Enjoy. :D
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Sherlock Holmes, which I don't, I wouldn't just be writing fanfics about it. And I wouldn't have had to pay for my Granada series DVD set.
"Two-Hundred and Twenty-one, B"
Yellow fog rolls down the street,
oily and thick on the panes.
Step up to the door and ring!
Ascend the seventeen steps,
all the way to the sitting-room.
"Do come in, pray take a seat."
The room is an odour of tobacco and chemistry;
bullet-pocks on the wall speak a singular history.
The gasogene's in the corner, tobacco's in the slipper,
mail's on the mantelpiece.
A violin rests on the floor beside
an occupied armchair, velvet-lined.
Two occupants sit with interest and curiosity,
One an ascetic, the other athletic,
"Now, tell us your story, and omit no detail."
Truly, you are in 221B.
Thank you for reading, and don't forget to review!