Bitten Banker

Blast! So much for rest. There's another case, and Sherlock is just contrary enough to take it on.

Perhaps I should go back a little. It's been a quiet week - not even the screeching of the violin, as I took Sherlock's bow from him - and tension has been growing with forced idleness. I made a bargain with Sherlock that if he could keep the kitchen clean for two days I would return his bow to him. He must have been desperate for some form of entertainment, as he agreed.

Needless to say he didn't keep it clean for two days. He did however manage to clean it - or so he says. Moving his experiments from the kitchen to the bathroom does not qualify as cleaning, say I. It's just a redistribution of mess. I wish he'd keep his experiments at St Bart's, because I can tell you, the idea of taking a shower while a pair of eyes in a jar watch from atop the medicine cupboard is not a pleasant one. If he could clean, just once, prove himself capable of looking after himself... But no. Even the milk is over a week old. I hadn't noticed as I've hardly been home, taking advantage of the lull to pick up some extra shifts at the clinic to pay the bills. I returned his bow to him anyway as a peace gesture, but he instantly set about irritating me. My nerves were already frayed by too little sleep and his petulant trickery, and it didn't take long for the disagreement to turn into a fracas. I am ashamed to say I lost my temper. The tally of my folly is Sherlock's violin bow and his nose, which I accidentally broke as he dived to save the bow. I have spent too long in the arena of war to react to swift-moving bodies peacefully.

We were distracted however by an alert on Sherlock's computer. Someone had commented on his blog, claiming a scanned-in obituary was wrong. Sherlock's interest was piqued, and piqued further by the lack of information available on the dead man, so he brought it to Lestrade's attention and then we broke into the man's house. Sherlock is, of course, adamant that the man's death was foul play, and I admit that there are a few inconsistencies with the death but we don't have much to work with. The man was bitten by a spider for God's sake!

That spider had better not be staying in our flat, or there will be hell to pay. I might just make good on those tying-Sherlock-down threats from earlier. At least then I'd get some peace!