My poetic version of the prominent angst themes commonly found in Doyle fanfictions. This is way overdone, mostly inspired by a conversation with Elerrina Star and MrsPencil's poetry.
This case starts off like any other
Or maybe it is quite abrupt
But either way this fine day
Trouble is about to erupt
The case is presented by a client
Whether by a visit or a letter
And sleuth and doctor leave the flat
Though Holmes forgets his sweater
The case is tricky, full of holes
But now the game is afoot
Holmes ignores the chilly air
And for his coughing blames the soot
Watson knows better than to say a word
Holmes won't listen to his pleas
He merely lends his coat and hopes
That the detective will not freeze
"The murder was done with an iron rod"
Our sleuth declares quite certain.
He does not see the ugly fellow
Watching from behind the curtain
Holmes leaves Watson to examine further
And the poor doctor is nabbed by the brute
Holmes realizes soon and without delay
He and Lestrade are in pursuit
Poor Holmes starts to panic
They lose sight of their quarry
(Because if Watson was rescued
It would be the end of the story)
TBC