Terrible, Horrible...

[rabidsamfan]

Watson rested his medical bag on the newel post and let his eyes fall closed, his weary contemplations accompanied by the discontented caterwaul of a violin from above and the screeching dismay of his usually unflappable landlady below. By the smell, Sherlock Holmes had spent this gloomy and miserable day indulging in noxious experimentation and the new kitchen maid had quite failed to mind the oven. Whatever faint hopes Watson had entertained of a nice hot dinner and a quiet snifter of brandy by the sitting room fire were gone to ash and ruin.

Perhaps he could move to Australia.







The wwoes prompt today referenced Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Very Bad Day, but as someone beat me to a full parody of that book, I settled for ruining the end of what must have been a very imperfect day. Poor Watson!