Prompt from mrspencil: a snowy day in a London park
The detective, whose excessive leanness made his six-foot plus height seem considerably taller (1), stood utterly still. His hawk-like nose and sharp eyes penetrated the snowy scene spread before him. His coattails snapped vigorously, the biting wind whipping them into a frenzy.
Hyde Park was the public drawing room of London. Spectacles sufficient to temper his keen analytical mind took shape through the softly falling snow. Children bundled in woollen garb till only their noses poked through shouted merrily and threw snowballs. Their silvery shouts mixed with the anxious calls of their nursemaids. Rich and poor alike, thronged the banks of the river - the plebeian in his drab roughly hewn layers; and the aristocrat, in her fine furs and scarlet regalia. In spite of the winter weather, an interminable throng of horses and carriages sloshed through the frozen mire toward misty church towers looming like battlements of turreted castles rising from the frosty forest.
Snowflakes danced and twirled on their downward trajectory, landing on Holmes' human statue. Gradually his features softened into a meditative expression. The thinking machine shifted his focus to the delicate crystalline ice creations landing on his hand.
"Curious," he murmured to himself, recalling his earlier studies. "It is only due to the imperfections in the crystals that light diffuses across the spectrum and a snowflake looks white." He shifted his view to the colourful sea of jostling humans flowing around him. "Without the imperfections, snowflakes would be invisible."
Just then, Watson, carrying his medical bag, sidled up to the detective. "Holmes, what are you doing just standing in this snowstorm? You'll catch cold. Come, let's go home and warm up." He snugged his scarf tighter around his neck.
Yes, let's go home, my old friend. I was simply contemplating the imperfections of the world. What colour they bring."
(1) quote from A Study in Scarlet, ACD