Sherlock Holmes - The Stuff Of Nightmares - Plot & Excerpts
The storm had passed, the rain had ceased, and a pewter-grey sky hung above the city, the sun valiantly attempting to peek through the overcast. With us was Inspector Lestrade and one of his sergeants, a certain Bryant. At our feet lay a corpse. The body was that of a flaxen-haired woman known to both Holmes and myself. The Abbess. In life, she had been lusty and lascivious. Dead, she was sad and pitiable, as the dead so often are. Rainwater had pooled in the sockets of her eyes, which were now dulled and fish-like. Her rouged lips were fixed in an everlasting cry of dismay. Her sodden dress clung to her ample frame in a clammy embrace. I had not warmed to the woman, but in no way had she deserved this cruel fate, dying alone in the mud of a filthy alley. Few do. Holmes crouched beside her remains, inspecting them minutely. He looked tired and drawn, even more gaunt than usual. I recognised the symptoms. He was in one of his manic phases, so utterly consumed by an investigation that he neglected the basic necessities of eating and rest.
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