Sherlock Holmes

The famous detective has lost none of his powers of deduction.

But he would very much like to die as soon as possible.

Yesterday afternoon, I was endeavoring to chronicle yet another thing that had been discovered in my apartment and Holmes was trying to chase away his demons by beating himself mercilessly at chess.  He had not spoken for several hours, which was no surprise – speech has become a torture to my guest.  Every time he dares make use of his withered larynx, his voice will creek in such a pathetic way, that I cannot help but imagine some ancient document of forgotten wisdom crinkling in on itself and breaking to pieces.

“I suspect…” began the detective, pausing for breath to fill his crumbling lungs, “that my left ear will soon fall off.”

“Good heavens, Holmes!” I exclaimed.  “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because,” snapped the great detective, “it feels like it.”

A quarter of an hour later, Holmes’s ear was on my rug.