Holme’s Last Resort
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight,
for what a sight it was.
His twitching eyes
his bulging veins.
Sherlock Holmes,
champion of reason,
master of observation,
humbled.
Forced to rely on that which he so disdained,
and from a child no less.
“Here.”
He tossed the flowing dark
object at me contemptuously.
Ignoring his skeptical stare, I closed my hands around
the grainy cloth.
The man vanished from my sight.
Waves of despair
Burning steel
Scarlet liquid
and a muffled pop.
Clouding vision
fading steps
drying red
and a mahogany floor.
And then,
The air thins
and my throat trembles
Wheezing, uncontrollable wheezing,
color drains
body wanes
void.
“HUGHLEY!” I yelled
as I flung the searing cloth at the wide eyed man.
“His name is James Hughley.”
---Ohi D.
