Sherlock Holmes and the Engineer's Thumb 1 | Page 26

Evie Robson
Beyond the window, clouds erupted in the dull grey sky, sending violent showers of
water down to earth. People cowered behind a rainbow of umbrellas, hiding from the
tears of the storm. The walls of 221B Baker Street suffocated me, a constant
reminder that Sherlock was the only friend I had left. Every day I was drowned by
misery, and each depressed breath seemed pointless. She was gone. Never coming
back. As the bullet penetrated her skin, it simultaneously stole both our lives. But she
was gone, and I was still here, soul heavy with grief.
As Sherlock entered the room, I plastered a smile on my weary face and forced it to
stay there. It would break him to see the hell I was going through. Outside, the sun
attempted to peer out at the busy London scene, but was immediately smothered by
an army of dark wisps of grey. He smiled at me, but as he sat, his brow creased in…
worry? Sherlock never showed any emotions. As he raised his jaw to speak, the bell
screamed from downstairs. Mrs Hudson timidly poked her head into the room. “It’s a
woman dears, seems terrified out of her mind,” she smiled. “Well bring her up then,”
Sherlock demanded “Don’t keep her waiting.” I frowned at his sudden change of
manner. The sun seemed to cower behind the clouds at his attitude, and thunder
clouds roared, a murderous cackle. Mrs Hudson hurriedly rushed away.
As soon as the lady appeared, I could sense that something was wrong. Her eyes
darted back and forth, and her fingers twiddled with stray pieces of dark hair. Each of
her nails were clogged with dirt, excluding her right thumb, which appeared to be
missing. “Mr Holmes I woke this morning frightened out of my mind” she spoke
gravely. “My thumb was gone, and was in absolute agony, and as I raised my head,
a tall menacing was stood at the foot of my bed,” Glancing over at Sherlock, I
couldn’t tell whether he was interested or not. “He was dressed in newly pressed
suit, though I couldn’t detect any colour in the dark, and then he whispered, no signs
of emotions in his voice,” Sherlock seemed interested now. “Mr Holmes, I’ve been
told you would be particularly interested in this, because the man at the end foot of
my bed whispered ‘did you miss me’...”