I M Sorry Sherlock-Personal Narrative

John leaves the hospital, and catches a cab to 221.B. When he hears the sounds of muffled groaning coming from behind the door. "Sherlock?" John calls.

As I stood on the outside of the arena watching teen girls traditional finish dancing, my stomach filled with butterflies. I walked into the arena as the announcer says “Next up teen girl's jingle,” with all the other dancers in my category. It was Sunday, the last day of Indian Summer Pow Wow, and my last contest for this pow wow, this year. Although I was nervous, I was also filled with happiness, confidence, and gratefulness. “Take it away boys” the announcer says. That’s when I knew that the drum group was going to start playing and this meant I had to start dancing.

John sips his tea, while browsing through a section of the Daily Telegraph. Leaving Sherlock once again, trying to subdue his rancid thoughts with those of a more subsequent nature in his vast storehouse of memories.

Sherlock just stood there with a sad expression like the one he had before the fall when he knew he wasn't going to see John, his husband, till he took down Moriarty's network. This time he might not be able to reunite with him and their son, just because he had caused his partner in crime solving so much heartache in those two years.

The man’s insane eyes stare us down from the crack of the door. I can detect his wrinkles turning up, showing that he is smiling at us. My brother and I lay limp on the floor; pretending that we are weak. My stomach churns as I consider about what they are going to do now. The metal door slams open and a sea of white suited soldiers come at us. Each of the soldiers forcefully yanks us up and locks our hands behind our back. My mind snapped and in an instant, I turned around and tackled the soldier holding my hands. I aimed for his neck, and bit down as vigorously as I could. I felt his blood enter me; it tasted sweet and it energize me. I bite down more harder, until I heard the cracking of his cervical. He lets out a sharp, piercing

Has there ever been an incident where you were hesitant about giving an apology? I'm sure everyone has at one point, but regrettable, my situation haunted me for forever. Growing up, I've never seen the importance of an apology; apologies to me come off as somewhat ritualistic and forced. However it is the same two words I once thought could never again be used as terms of repentance that could've saved a meaningful friendship. I was 16 years old, and my sister, brother, mother, and I moved away from my father. We drove about 14 hours to Clarksville, Tennessee. Our plan was primarily to start fresh, just the four of us, but this time happier. My mother started a job in Nashville, a forty-five minute to an hour commute from where we

The flame from Nick's lighter danced in the darkness as he lit his cigarette. I faintly heard an aged man speak from the television "2 found dead in New York apartment..." I turned my attention towards the TV out of curiosity. "Autopsy shows the couple died of starvation, this is now the tenth time we have seen this similar situation..." Nick cleared his throat to speak, a puff of smoke escaped his lips and disappeared into the darkness of the room. I shifted my gaze towards him awaiting his thought. He spoke in a tired voice.

"AH! You're not brain dead, finally. Yes, the stab wounds. The most logical assertion indeed, the flesh being damaged enough to hide a puncture hole. Now, John. Do you know what is the most peculiar thing to find?" Sherlock asks, a burning fever in his icy blue eyes.

While Sherlock is described as hearing the news the crime scene calmly, Watson cries “Why this is terrible,” (26). While Sherlock looks at the crime objectively, Watson provides the emotional response. Watson’s emotional response drives him to help Sherlock with the case, as he realizes that “justice must be done, and that the depravity of the victim was no condonement in the eyes of the law,” (43). John’s emotional response balances out Sherlock’s calm, business-like approach and together, the two of them create a balanced

His name was Brian. He seemed perfectly normal, maybe even a little boring, so nobody seemed to question him. You can see Brian dressed in a suit almost every day, in the same office, doing the same job. But Brian is stranger than he seems. Brian has an uncanny obsession with skin. Ever since he was a young boy he would stare at other’s skin with an eerie fascination. That fascination turned into a want. He didn’t just want to look at it, he wanted to collect it. His nights would be filled with red. So much red. But to Brian, it was worth it. Once he washed away all of the ugly red beautiful skin would emerge. The victim count grew. These casualties were found displayed in almost an artistic manner, with all of their skin carved off. His collection

“Hurry up, Penelope!” shouted her mom. “We are going to be late to the chocolate factory and you know that will NOT make Willy Wonka happy.” As usual Penelope Parks didn’t seem to care about anyone’s schedule other than her own. The New York penthouse where she had grown up was miles from the chocolate factory. In morning traffic, they were definitely going to have issues.

The director uses the settings and locations from the novel but in a recreated way for it to fit more in the modern world of today. In the novel, Sherlock Holmes was originally set in a Victorian London, to match what Arthur Conan Doyle would have been familiar of at that time and knowing what was common such as during that time period of murders and mysteries. The director uses 221B Baker Street because to familiarise the audience by starting in where Sherlock lives and to know where all the cases start at with the first clue coming to the door of his house. But along with the change of different characters first coming to the door of Sherlock Holmes, in the novel Dr Mortimer had come to Sherlock when looking for where he had left his walking

In such a malicious setting, no one payed any mind to this event. He did what everything else did, he came back. Reanimated, he slugged his way toward a single girl, her calls for help were so loud and obnoxious that it would make her the first victim. His teeth dug into her left shoulder. The tendons ripped, oozing fresh blood from her body. The patronizing screams she let out alarmed the others and they rushed over to her, pulling away the body of someone that once were their friend. They tried their best to tend to the girl’s pleas, but she grew weary due to her loss of blood and fainted. To deal with the boy that once was, they held him to the floor with great force with no clue what to do for him. They were unaware if it was too late, but nonetheless, they decided to condemn him so couldn’t attack anyone else. They decided to put him in the dumpster, the lid was heavy enough that he couldn’t open it. The one that they had first discovered was thrown in there too; his human meal was yet to be finished. If they were to escape, the leftovers would hopefully distract them, paying no mind to the living amongst

No, Sherlock wanted to tell him. No, I am not okay. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s awful, but his mind refused to do so with the insistence that, ‘John would leave if he found out,’. “I am fine!” he ended up yelling, “I am perfectly fine!” His words slurred together as his speech grew quicker and quicker as anxiety stabbed into his shoulder blade. “There is nothing wrong with me! I am fine,” Sherlock stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind

I head over to the sink to wash my hands. I then went over to the table where Uncle and Thomas were. The body on the table was an older woman. She seemed as if she was cut open and her organs were scoured through then thrown back in her body. It was a nasty thing for someone to do. It must have been another victim of Jack the Ripper. I start helping them by handing Uncle the scalpel, so he could do the preliminary incision. I had pointed out that her heart was missing from the body and there was a gear that was left behind in her body as well. Uncle was looking at the gear quite