Sherlock Holmes The Borrower
Beetle guts and juices oozed before him. Blood that looked similar to apple juice trickling into a pool. Two pale hands wrapped around the pointed wooden splinter. The sharp end submerged within the exoskeleton. The beige splinter contrasting the chocolate brown beetle.
The beetle was specifically a biscuit beetle and a rather dull specimen. An incredibly boring thing to procrastinate basic survival needs for.
His intense icy gaze stared at the twitching bug. Even when he was fully submerged in the inky darkness of the walls. His blue eyes could see the specimen clear as day.
Pale skin that would be bright to a blind person. With slim lanky legs that were covered by formal, yet comfy, black pants. Black dress shoes that were the size of the beetle before him. A dark ocean blue scarf wrapped around his neck. Hiding his protruding collar bone. A jet black fuzzy dress coat was worn by the thin man. Said coat hanging down by his knees.
With sharp facial features and cheekbones that could slice flesh. An unreadable yet judging intense look was worn on his narrow face. Said look seemed to have the ability to intimidate a bear. Sharp and thin shoulders were held up high. His permanently stiff upright posture reeked confidence.
A confidence that was not unfounded.
Mind racing through the odds of where the landlady is located on a whim. Taking a long sniff of the dust that danced around the stagnant air. He sighed and childishly shook his head. His sea of black curly hair flying.
“Boring,”
He complained. Letting his grip on the wood splitter go. His hands automatically folded behind his back. He dramatically twirled away from the withering specimen. His mind already miles ahead before he took his first step forward. His dusty dress shoes leaving footprints on the wooden support beam.
The four inch tall man marched forward. His paces, for his size, were long and purposeful. His gait almost seemed mechanical yet powerfully flexible and determined. As he trekked along the uneven terrain of the support beam. It would seem that he was a man on a mission. Seeing how he was all bones. It would be a safe conclusion that the man was on a life dependent hunt for food or water.
Survival was boring.
Instead the man was mapping out the nervous system of a rat.
The worst part about secretly working on a human case was the down time. Having to wait days for the human landlady to leave the newspaper unattended. Well it felt like days. In reality he was too impatient to wait for that long once he caught wind that there was more evidence.
His carelessness had caused more close calls than he would ever admit.
He was rudely taken away from his mind palace when three knocks rang loud and clear from downstairs. A one second interval between each knock.
A formal knock which ruled out family or someone the human flat owner is close with. Normally the figure within the shadows would have just ignored the way the humans rumbled. He had far more important and non-idiotic things to do. Unlike the landlady, who was absurdly sentimental and a nuisance.
Currently he listened to the outside world with a vague interest.
Finally making his way to the edge of the beam. He climbed up the twine rope. His tight grip was passionate. His icy blue gaze was intense.
“Pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Watson,”
He heard the elderly woman bellow.
“A pleasure as well Mrs. Hudson,”
A male voice responded.