Late at night, full moon hanging bright in the London sky. There is a tall, lanky man pulling up the collar on his trench coat, as he keeps to the darkness cast by tall buildings. Laying abandoned on a bench by a bus stop, he spots what he's been looking for. The man casually strides over, snatches the newspaper and tucks it into his coat, before heading crosses to the other side of the street, well before he would come upon 221B Baker Street,but he doesn't want to tempt fate. The tired man turns into the dim alleyway a while down the street, dangerously close to 221B. He hurries to the small sort of home he'd set up in the alley between apartment buildings, and slides under his makeshift canopy, feeling the first drop of rain on his dark, curly hair. The lonely man pulls the newspaper out of his pocket, and folds it open. The crinkled pages had been open to the classifieds. He casually scanned them, knowing he couldn't get a job, but it was something to read. In the bottom right corner is an ad, with a picture of a violin. This catches his interest so he squints at the smudged words above it. He catches his breath, and closes his eyes, feeling his heart drop. Without opening his eyes, he lets the paper drop from his hands into a puddle of rainwater collecting by his feet. The worlds only consulting detective turns to the street, and walks down the road away from his old apartment. Leaving the words on the page to bleed into the water.
"Used violin for sale, to good home.
Inquire at apartment 221B Baker St."