Sherlock's arms were getting dumb. He had stood tied to the cast iron pipe, hands behind his back, for approximately 37 minutes now. The ugly little man that had so clumsily tried to establish himself as the new criminal force to be reckoned with in this part of town kept pacing in front of him.
"Abandoned industrial estate: predictable. Empty threats: dull. Excessive bragging: boring." Sherlock thought, rolling his eyes and forcing back a sigh.

The wannabe crook was busing himself with Sherlock's wallet, pocketing his money and thumbing through the cards. He cried in triumph as he pulled out a folded crayon sketch marked "To Pa!"
"Aha! ave a little 'on, ave ya? "
He quickly grabbed Sherlock's left hand and felt the platinum band. The crook hissed in satisfaction, sending a cloud of foul breath into the taller man's face.
"And a lovely little wify I see!"
Sherlock really could not keep himself from smirking.

The horrible little crook bristled at once and pressed himself against the other man, jabbing him in the ribs with a yellow finger.

"Now detective Sherlock Olmes of 221B Baker Street, I know where you live. If you ever come after me again your little 'on and the little missus will be sooo very sorry. Very sorry indeed. Dat clear? Their little heads? Boom!"