Disclaimer: I own neither Sherlock Holmes nor his faithful companion, John Watson. I do, however, greatly enjoy toying with them.
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Pick-Pocket
I could not help but rest my eyes upon that oak dresser drawer in the far corner of our small lodging. It represented all of the mystery surrounding my new friend, Sherlock Holmes, and did so in the most tempting way that an inanimate object can. The iron felt frigid in my warm pocket; the more I fingered the key, the more I wanted to hurl the icy, demonic object from my being. And yet, despite the guilt resulted from the contemplation of committing the deed, Pandora's box had already been opened in my mind and there was no way for me to avoid physically unleashing its secrets.
There was a loud slam followed by the sound of the familiarly quiet footfalls on the stairs. I hastily surveyed the flat to ensure that I had left no clue as to the traitorous business of that afternoon and was happy to find it completely free of suspicion. Reaching for the newspaper from my quickly occupied armchair, I was foolish enough to indulge myself in the satisfaction that my doing would remain unnoticed by my amazingly perceptive companion.
"Watson." The sudden, harsh voice made me jump from my chair. I quickly regained my composure and desperately tried to avoid engaging in the nervous habit of clicking my tongue.
"Oh! Please excuse my jumpiness, Holmes, I did not hear you come in!" The guilt in my voice could not be avoided; I prayed that it had been unperceived by Holmes, who was eying me with a rather amused look on his face.
"Quite alright, my dear man, quite alright." He paused for a long moment, casting his eyes over the room like a bird of prey before allowing them to study me. They glimmered in a rather disconcerting fashion. "Anything of note in the Strand? I am afraid that I was unable to read it this morning as a certain Mr. Charles Lovering was in need of my assistance at a rather ungracious hour."
I stumbled.
"While I admire your efforts, Watson, I cannot see the point of reading the written word in such a fashion. Surely, you can enlighten me as to why you have taken to holding your paper upside-down."
"Well, I-" Holmes' past allusions to my lack of observation suddenly became meaningful.
"Oh, and I would be most grateful if you returned the key to my upper drawer as I may be needing it at some time in the near future. Really, Watson, you would make the most disastrous pick-pocket."