From Sherlock Holmes Esq to Doctor Watson:
I trust you are feeling slightly recovered from your ordeal now, and I shall visit once the swelling has subsided somewhat. The rather attractive young woman, as you would no doubt see her, has confided that your ravings have lessened to an acceptable level – she admitted the other occupants had submitted a petition requesting you be sent to another ward, as they were beginning to lose sleep themselves, and could not envisage sharing space with such disturbing outbursts. Thankfully, you quietened down somewhat after a visit from the marvellous Vanessa Ives, who led you through an unconscious meditation and restorative mantras.
After sharing a pot of Assam and a Ginger biscuit with the aforementioned Sensitive, who made me privy to several previously undisclosed details appertaining to one or two prominent cases on our Files, I made my way to Notting Hill, to take the air and stretch my legs – the swallows were wheeling and squeaking above my head, occasionally chiding me for my troubles; the sparrow-hawks swooped low, snatching the poor, dreamy collared doves from their musings, and I cogitated in my bucolic wanderings, coming to the conclusion that Life truly is a Bitch, dropping micturation on its denizens willy-nilly – showing neither Mercy nor Compassion – leaving us high and dry on its shore, attempting to find comfort where we may – or die in the effort…
I shall return shortly,
Your Friend, somewhat disillusioned SH.