Sherlock Holmes is property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
So, what happens more over in the life of our favorite heroes, after that Sherlock Holmes decided to retire?
Someone may continue his legacy…
-You should have seen his eyes-
-His eyes?- she asks with a perplex innocence – What's the matter with his eyes?-
-They were of a brownish-gray tone, shining at the light of the gaslamp- started he to describe as recalling the image of that man – and I didn't could see his face completely, because he was wearing a hat that didn't fit him at all – the young man pondered for a while – you saw his hands, didn't you?-
-He was carrying a very strange weapon- she affirmed with an uncertain expression.
-yes, right; but in his left glow it was perfectly notorious the absence of his ring and middle finger – the youth took his right hand to his chin and watched carefully the fingers of his other hand.
-But… what's wrong about that? You should not be so conscious of other person's defects. And seriously, what's so relevant in no having fingers? Isn't more important what he was carrying? like a kind of… of…-
-Like a Spanish knife of tortoiseshell spring and ivory I may say… of the middle of last century, which blade has been replaced no more than six months ago and was used to cut a rope covered in wine last night- he suggested with an extreme swagger but at the same time disdain.
-But he was… -
-An English man, with no doubt; his shoes they give himself away.
-Because of the design?- she inquired
-no- he was still moving at the rhythm of the car – because of the dust-
-You are joking, aren't you?- she smiled almost with mockery –well, what's the point after all?-
-We have finally arrived- sighted the young man taking his briefcase, putting on his hat and getting ready for going out of the car. –Are you ready, my dear?-
-Yes, what for?- she asked
-For knowing my uncle- he smiled with triumph looking at her
-Is it here?-
-Yes, the best beekeeper that I have ever known- laughed the one with brown hair.
-Beekeeper?- confused, the lady with blond hair walked out of the car.- It was supposed that we were going to meet your family, wasn't it?-
-That's right, my father must be right here just now- both continue their way.
-Ah, ok, your father's brother-
-You confuse me, darling. Despite confusing me it's really hard- said he arrogantly
-If I confuse you It's your only fault, honey. You said, when we went out of Sussex that we were going to London and now, where we are?- she made exaggerated gestures.
-In my uncle's bee farm- he smiled again with pride –you see? Simple-
-No, It's not that simple. I'm going to see your uncle, you never mentioned before that your father has a brother-
-No, my father doesn't have any blood brother, my uncle does-
-I don't understand- she said exasperated –now what? This walk it's taking too much-
-Enjoy the landscape, Violet, enjoy life that it's only instants- he extended his arms and took a deep breath – I missed all this, I used to run through this big spaces full of trees, then I rolled down from that hill and…- suddenly the house's door was open slowly and a dog with sharp ears and short legs showed out its nose to go out later jumping while walking like in a sort of a march.
-What a cute dog- the girl smiled and was touched by the little dog's sympathy- come, come- The man with his arms crossed smiled before the scene while observing the blond and the gray- haired dog. The second stopped in front of them, it sat moving its tail and barked twice. The woman looked perplex and the young man laughed loud.
-And… What happens to it?- she asked.
-It's nothing. Violet, allow me to introduce Admiral Tobias Sherrinford III- he announced with reverence and the dog barked again. –Better known as Toby- in that moment the dog waled closer to them to be spoiled.
-And as I was telling you; pain it's subjective- a calm voice was saying with accurate air.
-¡No, obviously it's not- another voice somewhat stressed, like being trapped in the same argument without getting out.
-My dear Watson, you have been discussing that point and defending this argument since breakfast; I'm telling you… Pain is subjective- he turned his head to the young man and smiled suddenly – Take your son, for example- he walked towards him looking at him –Welcome, son, I'm glad you came to day and no other day- he touched him by the shoulders.
-Jeremy!- exclaimed Watson at seeing his firstborn in front of them.
-Hello, dad. What's the discussion of today?- he smiled like a boy that it's about to play.
-I was telling your dear father that the pain it0s subjective, taking part of the… - he makes a pause and see directly where the young girl was – Good evening, miss. You should be the fiancé of the young Jeremy. I'm glad that your cold of the last week has healed, likewise your work as a music teacher allows you to come over here. But I' m really sorry because you don't have any more your handkerchief that used to be in your left pocket most of the time… Has anybody seen Toby?- the lady was stunned.
-But how…?- she brought one of her hands to her pocket, but her grandmother's handkerchief was gone.
-Violet, allows me to introduce you to my uncle; the famous private detective, Sherlock Holmes. -