Moods.
"An American?" Holmes almost fell off his chair in his surprise. I stifled a smile.
"I thought you admired Americans?" I asked, leaning against the door frame.
"Well, yes, from a distance. I admire certain murderers but that doesn't mean I want to live with one."
"It wont be for long and I did promise."
Holmes groaned and wriggled further into his chair.
"Very well, he may stay."
I smiled, it was very easy to forget I payed half the rent on this flat and yet still had to ask permission from Holmes for every change made to the place. I began to turn when Holmes voice stopped me,
"He doesn't have a god awful accent does he? You know one that would make my very fragile nerves scream out for the Queen's English?"
I had to laugh. Holmes swung his legs down in front of him and raised an eyebrow at me.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because you are being absurd."
"I'm just attempting to protect my sanity." He complained, resuming his former position.
"I fear, my dear Holmes, that your sanity was lost a very long time ago."
I felt him smile as I left, rather than saw it, and a moment later I heard him plucking random notes on his violin and I marvelled at how our quickly our moods could change….
Apologies to any American readers! I'm sure Holmes doesn't mean it.
Reviews always appreciated.