In The Shoes Of My Nemesis

“Blast that infernal man,” I threw my hat in the chair as I stormed past, “time and time again he is there, standing in my way.”

Grabbing the bottle of brandy, I poured a measure and slumped in the chair at my desk. “The smug look on his face when he solves the crime.”

Looking at the papers spread there, I sigh and collect the bunch in a pile.

“Months of research and planning. Gone! All because of that damn detective!”

Picking up the useless plans, I drop them in the bin.

Sipping my drink, I ponder which of the other jobs I was planning was ready to move forward. As I think, I take my handkerchief and soak the corner in the brandy.

Taking the lighter off the desk I put the soaked handkerchief in the flame.

Watching as the flame spread, I dropped it into the basket with the papers. As they burned I reached out and grabbed one of the stacks at the back of my desk.

Yes, this is the one.

I stand and walk over to the window, pick up the violin and lose myself in the music.

“Holmes.”

Notes flow around me.

“Holmes.”

Center me, ground me.

“Holmes!”

I stop, “Yes Watson?”

“I’ve tried to get your attention for minutes. Did you get it? Do you know what Moriarty has planned?”

“I do indeed,” I grinned in satisfaction,”It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

I wrote this post in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge provided this week by the incredible Rarasaur. The photo above is by Trevor Pritchard (Trevor) on flickr.