This is a drabble that sprang into my head after watching one of the Granada episodes with Jeremy Brett and David Burke. I may expand on it later, but for the moment it fits nicely into 100 words. This is my first drabble ever, so I would appreciate any pointers you can think of! Please note that all this belongs to Conan Doyle, and not to me (even though I wish it did).
The desk drawer lay open, forgotten by Holmes in his haste. Watson could hear his rapid footsteps as he flew down the seventeen stairs, his boredom swallowed up by the passionate energy with which he attacked this new case.
Watson, however, could not forget the way that Holmes had been stretched out in his armchair just a few minutes before, that silly, drug-induced smile drifting over his face. Even now, the hypodermic needle glared at him from the drawer, defying all his cares for his friend.
Watson threw the needle to the floor and ground it beneath his avenging heel.
