Most of my stories so far have been on a more somber note. Here's a 221B that's a bit more cheering.
Written: 10-24-12
Rapier
Crashes and good-natured shouts may not have been the normal atmosphere of 221B Baker Street, but it certainly wasn't too unexpected. Neither were repeated clashes of metal, though a laugh startled both visitors. Since when did Holmes laugh, as that could hardly be any other?
Disregarding the noise, but with wary looks darted upward, Lestrade and his companion scaled the stairs.
Just in time to be brought up short in shock as a rapier came hurtling through the half-open study door and buried itself four inches into the wood within feet of Lestrade's face.
A shout of laughter and a good-natured retort followed this extraordinary display, followed by the door swinging open to admit Holmes, who strode out, nodded to both of them and, without bothering with further acknowledgement, wrenched the weapon free before turning to face them. "Evening, Lestrade," he greeted. "If you wish my presence we had best make all haste, or else I shall be otherwise engaged for the evening."
Lestrade gulped and nodded, looking on warily as Watson exited the study looking none the worse for wear and rather amused. Watson took the blade from Holmes (resulting in a clang as it met its twin's hilt), set both down, and commented, "Then shall we?"
The door swung closed; Lestrade wisely refrained from questioning what wreckage lay beyond.