Essay about Sherlock is a Detective

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Sleeping on the couch was not a typical thing for the detective; he had his own bed only a few feet from where he laid sprawled, but the past few nights the couch had been his choice. One leg hung over the edge of the worn cushions, an arm draped across his eyes, and his navy blue robe twisted and tangled about his limbs. Yes, this was one of the great detective's bad days; Sherlock Holmes was in a slump. His eyes slowly peered open and his arm moved just enough to let the man glare daggers at the door as it creaked open. In walked his partner in crime, John Watson, who walked carefully, heel-toe-heel-toe, and eased the door shut as quietly as he could. It seemed to Mr. Holmes that his friend was trying to hide his presence. Now why would…show more content…
He walked past the fried eyeballs and frozen thumbs; past the piles and piles of lab equipment and "experiments" and God knows what else. He placed a hand on the refrigerator door, contemplating whether or not it was safe to venture into the unknown depths of the ice box. The last time he had braved such a fate, he was met by a severed head, seemingly gazing lifelessly back into his soul. John's stomach growled and he took in a deep breath, deciding it was worth it. He was starving. He closed his eyes and whipped the refrigerator open. Slowly, one optic opened and then the other followed; they scanned for any sort of human body parts or mutant creature that had the possibility of lurking there. Nothing. There was nothing in the fridge. And by nothing, this means there wasnt a single speck of anything in the fridge. John slammed the door shut and stomped back into the living room. "Damnit, Sherlock! I just went shopping yesterday!" The detective, who had resumed his sprawled position amongst the couch, gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes." He responded, stringing the simple word along his exhale. John stopped and pressed his hand against the wall, leaning against his and furrowing his brow. "Yes, okay, glad to know that's clear." He said calmly; then with a short, sarcastic laugh added, "Where the hell are they, Sherlock? Where the hell. Did you put the groceries. Everything in the fridge, Sherlock? Where did you put it?" "I threw them out." The detective responded
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