From cjnwriter - A lot to do in a little time
He sat alone in the tunnel, in amongst the stampeding of decorative hats, crying children and dirt in the street. The chill of wintery London air appeared to cause him little grief, despite the thin, ragged jacket that hung around his shoulders. He didn't attempt to put his arms through the sleeves, just tugged it into place every so often, staring forward through the crowd, his face wrinkled and dead.
Citizens danced around him in a rush, shopping and planning.
Surrounded by haggard boxes, bits of cloth and paper, though, he seemed far removed from the chaos. A large wooden board was propped against his slouched form, facing straight out. He was truly invisible. But had the masses slowed, they might have noticed the smile on his face as he seemed to sing to himself.
As Dr. Watson stared across the way at the man, his copper cup outstretched and his face beaming up, he held his wife close.
"So much to do," he murmured, nodding to the man. "Sometimes we forget."
She squeezed his hand and smiled.