Hey guys! I'm sorry about Niphredil. My beta is pretty busy and hasn't had time to correct it. I promise it will be up as soon as she's done with it. Anywho, this is my little time passer.

British Dictionary

Airletter- A letter and Envelope all in one. It has all the necessary stickers on it, and has a red and blue striped border.

Two fingered salute- A backwards peace sign made with the hands. It refers to the f- word.

Laurel Everest

221a Baker Street

London, England

W1U 6LJ

UNITED KINGDOM

The letter was simple and un-adorned. It was written on a standard Airletter, and the blue and red colors stood out in the pile of white bills that were clutched in the sweaty hand of Mr. James Slapton, one of Her Majesty's postmen on his daily route. He walked up the steps leading to 221a Baker Street. His foot slipped on the last step, and he hit his head on the Sherlock Holmes sign for next door, which happened to be 221b Baker Street.

" That bloody sign!"

The sign that had made his life miserable for the past two years swung precariously in the wind and Mr. Slapton continued on, stopping only to slip the letters for 221a Baker Street in the door flap, and then walked down the steps. His head aching, he continued on, not looking back. Needless to say, the rain had not improved the day by one bit. Slipping the mail for 221b Baker Street in their door, he looked around cautiously. Seeing nobody there, he deftly gave the two-finger salute to the Sherlock Holmes sign, and continued on his rainy, wet, route.

221a Baker Street did not stay abandoned for long. The sound of high heels resounded in the muggy air, and the sound of somebody coming up the steps was audible. Suddenly a cry was heard.

"That bloody sign!"

The person finally gave up from the round of vicious of swearing that had ensued from under their breath. Sounds of a key in the lock were heard, and the oaken door swung open to reveal Laurel Everest of 221a Baker Street, London.

She stood in the doorway looking frazzled, and the sopping wet business suit dripped on to the welcome mat . The rain pounded outside, and grey gloom surrounded London. Clutching her head with one hand, she set her handbag and keys down on the hall table, and staggered into the kitchen for some ice. She did not hear the crinkle of paper underneath her foot as she stepped on the mail, her wet shoes smearing the return address of the sender on the blue Airletter.