IT'S THE RETURN OF SOMEDAY SARA! BUM-BUM-BUM-BAAAAAAAAA!
Sorry chaps and chums, I know I've been a very bad girl so I'm going to finish this story quickly, and I've got another two in my mind... heee heee heee... please don't kill me, anyone. Please? Don't hurt the dumb american.
Hi Allie. (I'll never tell.)
And now, part, er, something of Picture Perfect!
"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, deedly-dee, there they are a-standing in a row," I sang, under my breath. It was nine o'clock at night and I was cold, tired, and hungry. "Big ones, small ones, some as big as your-"
"WATSON!" Holmes said in a furious whisper.
"Sorry." I said, almost inaudibly.
There was a moment of silence as Holmes and I continued our walk. After a minute I snuck a glance at Holmes, and whispered "I know a song that get's on everybody's ner-"
Here is the part when Holmes is supposed to throw his arms around me and kiss me for my terrible wit and ability to lighten the situation.
"WATSON! I am trying to think, and in case you haven't noticed, both of our lives are in danger right now. If I can't trust to you to hold your tongue then you are no better than the others and I might as well work alone."
I just about bit my tongue in half trying not to cry. It was dark, I shivered, and then from an alleyway just behind us a dark green sports car pulled out and began trailing us. I felt my heart pound in my mouth, and Holmes and I glanced at each other.
"Run?" I mouthed.
Holmes shook his head, and we kept walking, my knees shaking. The car stopped, a door slammed, and footsteps echoed off the pavement.
I felt like I was going to throw up. You'll make a beautiful princess... SHUT UP, ME! Oh, Jesus Christ... the four people behind us began to run.
Unspoken, Holmes and I took off, Rascal bounding at our heels and howling. Good dog.
Whoever it was behind us was catching up. I risked a glance behind, my god, there were wearing ski masks! It was so cheesy it would have been funny if I hadn't been about to wet myself.
I stumbled in my dress shoes, (why do I always were dress shoes when I need to run?) and I turned to fight.
With what?
I aimed a kick and it went wild and missed, and someone grabbed me from behind. Holmes was knocked about the head and crumpled to the pavement. I screamed, then a hand was over my mouth, princess, and then I was shoved into a car, and a squeal of tires, and I banged my head against the seat and someone tied a cloth over my eyes.
It took me about half an hour to find my voice.
"Eck-" I said, then whimpered. "Excuse me, but, I don't think you know who I am."
"Oh we do."
"No, you don't understand, I'm - " I stopped, as I felt the cool barrel of a gun at the back of my neck. I'm dead.
Watson has now, rather rudely, shoved her laptop at me, telling me to write my side of the story. Which just goes to show that I am not dead, as so many readers think. I would think that my young lady friend would have more respect for the recovering invalid, but she is giving me that look that has scared friends and fencing teachers alike. Watson is now telling me to leave fencing teachers out of this, that is the next story and she also says that I have been recovering for the last six months and that if I could beat her 5-0 nine consecutive times I am not an invalid.
Rascal was licking my face when I came around, and I groaned and shoved him away, wiping loose gravel from my cheek. Then I started, when everything that had just happened came rushing back.
I jumped to my feet and saw the tire skids, heading north. Someone had dropped a cigarette, the same as the ones that had been in the ashtray at the Cuttinghall home. Rascal was whimpering and when I glanced down at him, he wagged his tail with sad teardrop eyes.
Puppy eyes, puppy eyes, sorry Watson. Stop reading over my shoulder.
Rascal, in the fight, had torn a square of cloth from one of our attackers. It was a piece of feminine clothing, low thread count. There was only one person who could tell me where they lived from this scrap of cloth. Raffi.
"Let's get her back," I said to Rascal, who howled. We raced down the dark London streets.
When I got to Raffi's door I pounded rapidly, and after a moment the door was opened by my dear friend. He was wearing a crimson cape with black pants, a white shirt with red puff balls, a peacock mask and a blue top hat. No shoes. Cologne. Too much cologne, come to think of it, and he'd recently changed the position of his shaving mirror.
"Holmes!" he cried, exuberantly, throwing his arms up. "I'm Captain Fantastic!"
"So I've noticed," I said curtly. "Raffi, where did this come from?" I held out the square of cloth, trying to keep the shaking from my hand.
The smile from Raffi's face faded when he saw how serious I was. He took the cloth and walked inside for better light. Reaching one hand out absently he turned the stereo off, and the room snapped into silence.
"J.C. Penny," he said.
"Sorry?"
"Cheap-ish store. This looks American, though, so..."
"The lower east side! Thank you." I turned to leave.
(Author's note: Is there a lower east side of London? For now, pretend, and pretend that's where all the dumb Americans live.)
"Wait!" Raffi called out, racing for his bathroom. "Do you want a ride?"
"A what?"
With a whirr, Raffi drove into the room, riding in a power-wheels car that was much too small for him. His knees came up to his ears as he grinned. "Beep-beep!" he cried. When I stared in shock he wiggled his eyebrows.
"I'll walk." The door slammed shut behind me.
Sorry chaps and chums, I know I've been a very bad girl so I'm going to finish this story quickly, and I've got another two in my mind... heee heee heee... please don't kill me, anyone. Please? Don't hurt the dumb american.
Hi Allie. (I'll never tell.)
And now, part, er, something of Picture Perfect!
"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, deedly-dee, there they are a-standing in a row," I sang, under my breath. It was nine o'clock at night and I was cold, tired, and hungry. "Big ones, small ones, some as big as your-"
"WATSON!" Holmes said in a furious whisper.
"Sorry." I said, almost inaudibly.
There was a moment of silence as Holmes and I continued our walk. After a minute I snuck a glance at Holmes, and whispered "I know a song that get's on everybody's ner-"
Here is the part when Holmes is supposed to throw his arms around me and kiss me for my terrible wit and ability to lighten the situation.
"WATSON! I am trying to think, and in case you haven't noticed, both of our lives are in danger right now. If I can't trust to you to hold your tongue then you are no better than the others and I might as well work alone."
I just about bit my tongue in half trying not to cry. It was dark, I shivered, and then from an alleyway just behind us a dark green sports car pulled out and began trailing us. I felt my heart pound in my mouth, and Holmes and I glanced at each other.
"Run?" I mouthed.
Holmes shook his head, and we kept walking, my knees shaking. The car stopped, a door slammed, and footsteps echoed off the pavement.
I felt like I was going to throw up. You'll make a beautiful princess... SHUT UP, ME! Oh, Jesus Christ... the four people behind us began to run.
Unspoken, Holmes and I took off, Rascal bounding at our heels and howling. Good dog.
Whoever it was behind us was catching up. I risked a glance behind, my god, there were wearing ski masks! It was so cheesy it would have been funny if I hadn't been about to wet myself.
I stumbled in my dress shoes, (why do I always were dress shoes when I need to run?) and I turned to fight.
With what?
I aimed a kick and it went wild and missed, and someone grabbed me from behind. Holmes was knocked about the head and crumpled to the pavement. I screamed, then a hand was over my mouth, princess, and then I was shoved into a car, and a squeal of tires, and I banged my head against the seat and someone tied a cloth over my eyes.
It took me about half an hour to find my voice.
"Eck-" I said, then whimpered. "Excuse me, but, I don't think you know who I am."
"Oh we do."
"No, you don't understand, I'm - " I stopped, as I felt the cool barrel of a gun at the back of my neck. I'm dead.
Watson has now, rather rudely, shoved her laptop at me, telling me to write my side of the story. Which just goes to show that I am not dead, as so many readers think. I would think that my young lady friend would have more respect for the recovering invalid, but she is giving me that look that has scared friends and fencing teachers alike. Watson is now telling me to leave fencing teachers out of this, that is the next story and she also says that I have been recovering for the last six months and that if I could beat her 5-0 nine consecutive times I am not an invalid.
Rascal was licking my face when I came around, and I groaned and shoved him away, wiping loose gravel from my cheek. Then I started, when everything that had just happened came rushing back.
I jumped to my feet and saw the tire skids, heading north. Someone had dropped a cigarette, the same as the ones that had been in the ashtray at the Cuttinghall home. Rascal was whimpering and when I glanced down at him, he wagged his tail with sad teardrop eyes.
Puppy eyes, puppy eyes, sorry Watson. Stop reading over my shoulder.
Rascal, in the fight, had torn a square of cloth from one of our attackers. It was a piece of feminine clothing, low thread count. There was only one person who could tell me where they lived from this scrap of cloth. Raffi.
"Let's get her back," I said to Rascal, who howled. We raced down the dark London streets.
When I got to Raffi's door I pounded rapidly, and after a moment the door was opened by my dear friend. He was wearing a crimson cape with black pants, a white shirt with red puff balls, a peacock mask and a blue top hat. No shoes. Cologne. Too much cologne, come to think of it, and he'd recently changed the position of his shaving mirror.
"Holmes!" he cried, exuberantly, throwing his arms up. "I'm Captain Fantastic!"
"So I've noticed," I said curtly. "Raffi, where did this come from?" I held out the square of cloth, trying to keep the shaking from my hand.
The smile from Raffi's face faded when he saw how serious I was. He took the cloth and walked inside for better light. Reaching one hand out absently he turned the stereo off, and the room snapped into silence.
"J.C. Penny," he said.
"Sorry?"
"Cheap-ish store. This looks American, though, so..."
"The lower east side! Thank you." I turned to leave.
(Author's note: Is there a lower east side of London? For now, pretend, and pretend that's where all the dumb Americans live.)
"Wait!" Raffi called out, racing for his bathroom. "Do you want a ride?"
"A what?"
With a whirr, Raffi drove into the room, riding in a power-wheels car that was much too small for him. His knees came up to his ears as he grinned. "Beep-beep!" he cried. When I stared in shock he wiggled his eyebrows.
"I'll walk." The door slammed shut behind me.