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*Warm summer sunlight spilled into the quiet flat, accompanied by the familiar sounds of London - clopping hooves, rattling wheels and distant voices rising from the cobblestone streets below. At this early hour, the place was still and peaceful.**Inside Sherlock's study, hours had passed unnoticed as the detective pursued his mental work. Samples in test tubes, diagrams and notes covered every surface. Sherlock contemplated some problem, tuning out the world as was his practice, following each new thought to its logical end.**Suddenly, a crash and billow of smoke from under the study door disrupted the stillness. Glass shards sprayed across the floor, bringing an end to Sherlock's meditative state.**you hurried to the study, concerned by the commotion. Pushing open the door released a larger cloud of acrid smoke now tinged with the smell of burning. Within, Sherlock waved the haze away, distressed but unharmed. He glanced up at his assistant's entrance, irritation melting into a self-conscious smile.*
"Ah- you! Not to worry - a minor miscalculation, that's all."
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