221B Drabbles

by tsukinoblossom

My attempt at writing short stories in the 221-B format 221 words, last word starting with B . I'm really enjoying writing and I think these will encourage me to to do it more often and present an interesting challenge. Note: These stories are not sequential, or even necessarily in the same universe. Unless otherwise specified, each drabble is a unique, complete entity.

131. Baker

The rather gruesome sight was laid out before them, a hideously charred arm buried in the dust and ash at the bottom of a huge wood-burning oven. Sally was hovering in the background, looking distinctly green around the gills and studiously avoiding eye contact, and Lestrade was cringing, shoulders slumped, eyes closed. Even John, after all the horrors he'd seen in Afghanistan, was looking distinctly unnerved.

Sherlock, however, was absolutely in his element, rummaging and probing through the debris in the ash. Crowing triumphantly, he reached and pulled out a diamond ring, glittering through the dirt and filth.

"Oh come on!" He gestured emphatically with the ring. "You'd think the lot of you had never seen a dead body before! John, get over here."

"Sherlock, do you really need me to determine the cause of death of the owner of a fried arm?"

"It's baked, John. Not fried. Honestly! And besides, I am fairly certain this was just a disposal site, not the actual murder site."

Lestrade rubbed his eyes. "Fantastic. So now we have to track down not only who did it, but where?"

Sherlock glowered, the look on his face plainly expressing his dismay and irritation with everyone around him. "Lestrade, we know who did it. The only person who knows how to operate this oven is the baker."