A/N: prompt 15 from zanganito: Holmes and Watson being the worst tenants
Worst
Perhaps it's that ominous stain on the rug,
Which has been there for years, I am certain;
Or the strange noxious gases which waft down the stairs,
Or the many charred holes in the curtain.
~0~
Or perhaps it's the bullet holes gracing the wall,
Or the neighbours' distress when he fired them;
Or perhaps it's the thugs who set fire to their rooms,
Or the mastermind villain who hired them.
~0~
No...wait...the policemen who call before dawn,
Their boots make a terrible clatter.
Or the violin solos which go on for days,
Or the test tubes which fizzle and shatter.
~0~
Or, perhaps it's the elegant soirées I've held,
Which were, time after time, interrupted.
Or the brawling with criminals, here in the hall,
When my rubbers of bridge were disrupted.
~0~
Perhaps, I should add that dead body I found,
Just sprawled, anyhow, on the landing;
Or that pig carcass seemingly put to the sword,
Which threatened my erstwhile good standing.
~0~
And I've not even started on personal things,
My scarves and my hats which go missing,
To add to the bundle purloined for disguise,
All valid objections, dismissing.
~0~
And then there's the urchins, young rogues from the street,
I find them all over the place.
I admit to a soft spot for each scruffy lad,
But they somehow invade every space.
~0~
Late calls for the doctor, unreasonable clients,
The multitudes thronged at my door,
The illnesses faked to lure criminals out
The mud on my fresh-polished floor.
~0~
Their swift disappearances, goodness knows why,
The telegrams hither and yon;
The chaos whenever a game is afoot
The silence whenever they're gone...
~0~
The dinners at Simpsons' in lieu of raised rent,
The thwarting of dastardly crimes.
The many and various lives they have saved,
Bright lights in the darkest of times.
~0~
So yes, Mrs Turner, they must be the worst
Of tenants, but surely you've guessed
The oddest conundrum their presence defines;
They are also, quite clearly, the best!
~0~