I sat staring intently, my eyes piercing into the blank eyes of the skull on the mantel. The bleached white bone, the slightly chipped right eye socket, everything was swirling in my brain.

"Yorick!" I shouted, giggling as John jumped and dropped the cup of tea he was currently drinking.

"My God woman, do you have to shout?" He question angrily standing up and shaking the hot drink off of him.

"Sorry." I said sheepishly. Sherlock popped his head out from behind the door to the kitchen. His eyes darted between myself and the skull on the mantel.

"Clearly from Hamlet." He said bored. "Not very unique. Try again." He said going back to whatever it was he was doing.

"No, not from Hamlet. From Quest for Camelot, was a movie I quite enjoyed. A two headed dragon held up a skull and said it was his Uncle Yorick." I said pouting in the chair.

"Fair enough!" He told me as a hissing sound and smoke drifted into the room.

"Sherlock… what did you burn?" I asked as John started creeping back, covering his nose.

"Oh nothing important, but I'd advise not breathing too deeply." He said in a muffled voice. Sighting I opened the nearest window wide and fanning some of the air out.

"Darcy! Fetch me my patches!" Sherlock shouted.

"There aren't any here, Sherlock!" John said sitting down next to the open window, rubbing his temple. "How do you put up with this constantly?" He asked me. I just shrugged.

"They're under Yorick!" John groaned and I picked up the skull, spotting the box of patches and tossed them to the waiting arm of Shrelock.

"Great, now the skull has a name." John complained.