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Sherlock surveyed the mess. Everything as it should be.
A bit of dust still left on the mantel. Jackknife. He pushed it a little deeper into the heart of Mycroft's handwritten letters. The bat. He nearly smiled as he turned towards his first, best . . .
"Mrs. Hudson! Where is my skull?!"
Written for the Summer Ficlet Exchange Microfic Challenge 1 at great_tales on livejournal.