Text Me
Sherlock Holmes is not a man of habit as such, but a man of thoroughness in experiment and cleverness in execution. Nor does he like to leave any issue unfinished. So for that reason, and roughly once a week, he opens the top right hand drawer of his desk, and takes out the mobile phone lying there.
He checks for messages, tops up the battery charge, and replaces the phone in the drawer for another seven days or so.
This has been going on for months, a task he now does almost without conscious thought and certainly without anticipation, hope or any other indulgence of expectation. He is not a patient man, so this appears to be just one of many compulsive obsessive behaviours he displays.
The routine has become automatic and almost mindless.
Until today. Today there is a text message, left in the middle of the previous night.
He unlocks the phone with studied calm and opens the text.
If this reaches you it's a miracle.
He reads the seven words impassively. Reads again with a slight smile.
Miracles happen SH he writes.
Presses send before he can think about his response, about whether he should be making a response at all. The telephone pings and the message has gone.
Sherlock Holmes replaces the telephone in the drawer and walks away from it. He has things to do.
END
Author's note: Well, it was put away so deliberately, now wasn't it? Twice.