Overhand spike
Apr. 24th, 2012 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
monkeybardNot just a rabbit hole. A freaking warren. (And I'm running out of tennis terminology for the subject lines. It's a first-world problem, I know.)
Round 1 here.
Round 2 here.
Round 3 here.
Round 4 here.
Round 5 here.
Round 6 here.
Round 7 here.
8. Missing
“The rest of him is here somewhere.”
“You’re sure it’s a him, then?” asked Lestrade.
Sherlock’s look said it all, but he expounded anyway. “One glance at the feet would tell you that. Think, Lestrade.”
He was right, of course. There were five shod feet scattered around the room, and only two were small enough to be the woman’s.
Lestrade bit back his sharp answer, saying instead, “There’s a foot missing.”
“That’s better.” Sherlock stood and scanned the room, taking in everything in that snapshot way John envied. “They were brought in through there.” He dashed for the far doorway.
Round 1 here.
Round 2 here.
Round 3 here.
Round 4 here.
Round 5 here.
Round 6 here.
Round 7 here.
8. Missing
“The rest of him is here somewhere.”
“You’re sure it’s a him, then?” asked Lestrade.
Sherlock’s look said it all, but he expounded anyway. “One glance at the feet would tell you that. Think, Lestrade.”
He was right, of course. There were five shod feet scattered around the room, and only two were small enough to be the woman’s.
Lestrade bit back his sharp answer, saying instead, “There’s a foot missing.”
“That’s better.” Sherlock stood and scanned the room, taking in everything in that snapshot way John envied. “They were brought in through there.” He dashed for the far doorway.
