Static lights flicker upon icy cadavers that interchange whipped blows.
Two bottles: white pills sprinkled with venomous pearly pink dots...
A gun manufactured in truth, yet deceitful in a flame-lick of lies.
Unlike chance, a game a chess he must oh so hopelessly conquer. Notice from a fan...
Deductions from the scratches upon a case of a drunken man's phone.
Flat-mates, violin strings that harmonize to Bach.
Never shall a song remain unfinished.
A wounded soldier whose life was as bland as a soggy biscuit.
A sociopath who had no connection to the silly little heads of men.
Round' and round' they went around London like a teddy-bear through a garden. Becoming...
A blogger and a consulting detective that forgets his pants.
Partners for life.
Partners in crime.
The ever shimmering Chinese kettle...
A cup brighter than it was before incarcerated in glass.
The predators that we so blindly trust that stalk shamelessly in public,
Almost as blind as a banker with a yellow-line splattered across his eyes.
An origami lotus, dark as the fur of the hounds of Baskerville.
Everything pink like strawberry jam all over the tracks.
A wrap of a brief supernova and missile plans holding national
importance, like a phone with compromising pictures inside it's memory.
Unraveling of words:
I am SHER-LOCKED!
Moriarty. (Jim, Jim from I.T?)
Actors of a great game:
The Ice Man.
And the right questions:
Is it in the sugar?
Is he a snorer?
Is it in hidden in the word Hound?
Why would he leave his shoes that he adored so much?
Mastermind of Crumbs and Mercury:
I.O.U a fall, my dear...
Falling is just like flying, only with a more permeant destination.
I'll burn the heart out of you, dear, if you don't stop meddling.
Suddenly, I'm Mister Sex!
All tales need a good-old fashion villain.
"You will never convince me that you were a fake, please don't be dead..."