Nothing major, maybe three hundred words or less, but they are coming. Which is exiting, so I thought I would share.
I sipped my tea; it wasn’t quite cool which added to my disgruntled mood.
“My reputation is factious at best, I assure you. I am hardly-
“To the best of my knowledge, no.”- Bleeding Roses
“Have I offended you again, dear Countess.”
I said, in my most piteous voice.“Everything about you offends.” She set her teacup down. “I do not know why you offend me so.
I give her a satisfied smile. -Bleeding Roses
Also the violin, it was as if Sherlock shared a voice with it. When his temper flared, the violin made a horrible litany of strangled sounds, whether the time was past midnight or not. His sleep patterns were scrambled at best. It could be called to question if he ever sleeps at all. I find it humorous that Watson says he is not a difficult man to live with, I charge you to find someone worse. I wholeheartedly disagree with his statement. - Miss Hudson
I’m sure, I have caught your interest now Elizabeth or rather your indignation. I’m sure you know I am rarely mentioned in Watson’s stories, or fables as I like to call them. That’s not to say the cases themselves were untrue or exaggerated rather that much was omitted or left out purposely. - Miss Hudson
I look out the round window; it sits at the highest point of our home. A small loft hides inside it, a dark nook that seems separate from the rest of the waking world an odd place. Just like me, the odd girl who looks out of it.- The Unhappening
It makes the perfect atmosphere for a story, and even before I start the pages seem to crackle with enchantment and whisper their words to me. Begging me to read from their silken pages, I am only to please to oblige. I don’t really feel until I read a story drinking in its words and breathing its characters to life.- The Unhappening
Two big, brown eyes merely stared at me in response. Maybe she had lost her voice too! Or she didn’t speak. She wrapped her dirty tulle around her arm. She shifted back and forth, her eyes darted anxiously around the decrepit building. Her chocolate eyes met mine.
“Can you talk?” the rusty sound, was foreign to me. What had I become, she simply stared giving me no sign that she had understood. Deaf, maybe she really wasn’t hearing me. I tried to piece together some sign language but she looked more confused than anything.- Joyland
Which is why I have negated to start where it began for most. A Study in Scarlett. A right fit name, if ever there was one.
It starts with a murder of course, a bloody murder.- Miss Hudson
So basically, I have been doing a lot of this.