Drabble for The Red-Headed League, in the beginning of which Holmes is riddling a poor piece of wood with bullets.
Attention
It was quite silly, he knew very well—foolish of him feel even the slightest bit…what as the word, exactly? He hastily dismissed "jealousy" as inappropriate. If only he, like the doctor, was a man of letters; then, perhaps, he could find an alternate word which did not make him feel so absurdly childish about the matter.
But, no. There was simply no other explanation for the microscopic twinge of bitterness which rolled once in his stomach when Watson offhandedly mentioned the friend from India who would be visiting to "relive the old days of excitement."
It was his inner prankster, he told himself, not jealousy, which prompted him to grasp Watson's attention with some indoor shooting the next morning as the other man was shaving in preparation for the reunion.
He never saw the look of utter fright upon the brave doctor's features as he ran, half-shaven, to where gunshots had emanated.
I really could use some feedback on this one. I can't help feeling it's not clear enough, and perhaps a little out-of-character. What say ye?