"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street," he said. And then, he winked.
It wasn't just any wink. It was a boisterous wink, a loud wink: if a wink could be said to shout, that wink howled to the rafters. It was no-holds-barred and larger-than-life. It was exuberant, glorious, magnificent.
I had come into the lab with my old friend without any hope of a positive outcome as regards my living situation, or any hope at all, really. But after listening to him tell me about myself, I was actually beginning to stir from my apathy. And then, the wink.
That wink. Good God. The man had no idea.
Well, actually, that's not true. He just proved, in about five minutes, that he is one of the smartest people I'm ever likely to meet. He had to know.
After all, it was an obvious wink.
Just to be sure, I looked up the word wink on my computer when I got to my bed-sit. Wink: to signal a message, to invite, or to tease by closing an eyelid.
I wonder which it was. I'm going to find out. This should prove interesting.