Sherlock: A Narrative Fiction

Oh, where is Mrs. Hudson with the tea and Cluedo? She should've been up here by now. Sherlock sighs, god that woman.." Mrs. Hudson! " Sherlock called out in his usual booming voice as he tuned his violin becoming impatient. He waited for a few minutes before he stood up with a sigh setting his violin down , He may as well check on her. Sherlock walked out of his flat looking downstairs," Mrs. Huds-" Sherlock stopped abruptly in his steps and words as he heard Mrs. Hudson conversing with someone.

Sherlock said, “Do you see partner, you have more friends than you realize. See. You’re not blind as a stone as you thought.”

Leaves crunched beneath her feet, the night sky shimmering. The crinkle of paper sounded, as she flipped the pages in her journal. The forest was beautiful, but quiet. If she did this, however, it would never be quiet again. She must do this. Her bright hair was pulled up in a lazy bun, so it could fall out any moment.

Finally, Dr. Watson is paralyzed by the hound but he shot his gun anyway. Watson and Sherlock Holmes were proving the murderer with a big plan including many characters. The detective, Sherlock Holmes, and Watson were protecting Sir Henry from the grim hound. They both saw it and were shook as seen in, “‘...my [Watson’s] mind was paralyzed by the sight of the dreadful shape… Homes and I both fired’...The giant hound was dead.” (102-103). Watson was terrified of the horrid shape of the hound. Even though he was truly terrified of the animal, he still fired his gun not allowing himself be ruled by his fear over the great hound that was after the baronet.

"Shawn listen to me." The words come out shaky as i watch shawn standing at the edge of the building.

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

The detective noticed her shaking hands and approached her cautiously. "Listen. Moriarty is dead. I'm absolutely sure. Whoever this is, they are trying to terrorise you by using his name. I know this is hard-", Sherlock's train of comforting words was cut off by his wife. "Do you? I'm not that sure you do know, Sherlock. You probably feel nothing right now! You didn't raise those children, you weren't there when Clara made her first steps, or when Dorian learned how to eat on his own! You weren't there on their first fight to stop them, you weren't there when they asked me where you were and I had to lie over and over again that you'd be home soon!", she chuckled and continued, "Why would you be anyway? You had better and more important things to do, after all." Sherlock made no sound. She was right. (Y/N) was absolutely right. He could see that now. He felt disgusted by his own person. Sherlock had made his decision- once this... pantomime was over, he was going to walk away from the life of a married man. Let (Y/N) have a life. Have a beautiful life with her two children- perhaps even remarry. He said nothing, though. All he did was nod at here and lower his head. John and Mary Watson looked at each other before Mary took the phone in her own hands and typed

Detective Gerald stepped towards them and knelt down. “I promise you two, I will do all I can to keep that sick son of a bitch inside the jail cell. When he does get released, it won’t be for long.” He put his hand on both their shoulders before retrieving a business card from his shirt pocket. “You know where I am if you need me. I’m sorry for the bad news. I truly am,” he said in a flat tone.

On the 407th floor of In-Gen Intergalactic a man paced around his room rapidly.He had a polished appearance and was dressed in crisp black robes. He had a firm complexion. There was something special about him. He walked in the centre of a vast white room and although he was small he was no less significant than the mountain of a man that sat across from him. It wasn't their robes that made them stand out, it was the look in their eyes. They were not men who were accustomed to difficulty. They were both strong-minded men who were in control. Today though, something had unsettled them. The larger man stood up quietly and walked silently towards a window from which he surveyed the empire he'd accumulated.

Malfoy noticed the uneasiness she got when he approached. “Fascinating place, this is,” he carried on. “Yeah, sure,” she said breathily, focusing on everything but him. “Are you going to be like this all night, Adams?” he asked, annoyed. “Maybe. And I notice you’ve given up my old nickname. You know, ‘Mudblood’. You called me it so much I considered double checking my birth certificate,” she shot back.

This made me has a reader become involved in the story and urged me to read on to see how/if Sherlock will find out who the man is, and why he was following

Inspector Glen seemed perplexed and overwhelmed at the amount of information I had been retelling. I did not realize, until now, that I began to tell the officers everything without much provocation. He was quietly jotting down notes and nodding along as I spoke.

Louise soon learned to enjoy when he left. “Why Richard comes by almost every night now. I’ve spoke to him many times. He’s a real kind man. But not once has he ever mentioned a sister why?” Josephine decided to stay late that night. It wasn’t long till Louise understood there was another woman. It actually made her happy. “Well then maybe he can let me be and marry her!” she shouted with joy to Josephine. “Yeah so he can kill that woman too? Louise, please stop working so hard you know the doctors said you shouldn’t strain yourself. I entirely blame that man for your heart disease. I have no doubts! He has you working like a slave around here!” Josephine really did worry for her sister. Even with the medications, Louise always spoke of the great pain constantly in her chest. Josephine promised herself she would come over more often to help with all the work. “Well, coming over here I already had confirmed it was true. I’ve spoken to Richard a few times about and he feels awfully bad about the whole situation. He seemed really concerned for you..Even offered to take you out, get your mind off things..” Feverish Louise replied, “ Josephine! I am a married women! Anyways, even if I begged for a

Now this wasn’t a side of John that I had seen before. Usually, John is the one who cheers everyone up whether it be with a quick joke or a short story, but something was different about him, “You know Bill, I believe that I could be a movie star if I could just get out of this bar; in fact, Paul’s a real estate novelist though he’s busy enough that he doesn’t have time for a wife. Although, I heard recently that he’s been talking to Davy, but he joined the Navy here recently and probably won’t be getting out for a while. Although the biggest surprise of them is the waitress that used to work here. She’s been practicing politics though I’m not sure which branch.” He said. As he was saying all this and bragging on how lucky I am, I kept thinking about the fact that even though they are all alone, they share that experience, but I am alone in this career. The following Saturday the crowd at the bar was larger, and the manger came up to greet me as he knew that I was the reason the crowd came. “Hope you’re ready since this will probably be your biggest show this year.” He said. Of course, I knew he was right, but for some odd reason tonight felt different than all the others. I sat down at the piano

“She touched my stuff, John!” Sherlock glanced around the room, hoping to see at least some sign of familiarity. Some small object that hadn’t been moved, but even the mirror above the mantel had been adjusted slightly. The smell of febreeze hit his nose. “She uses too much air freshener!” he added, suddenly becoming aware of the walls. With each tick of the clock, with each blink, with each breath, the walls seemed to close in on him.