maisiegirl

                                                                  -The Sparrow and The Hawk-                                                                            -Chapter Five- It hadn't been quite the phone call I'd expected. After the haunting trill of the dialing tone had rung out several times, he answered. "I'll help you," I said simply. The line went dead. Great. Defeated, I slumped into my chair. He was just playing games with me, I thought. My mobile phone beeped. "I prefer to text. SH". I sighed. He was so unpredictable, so cryptic! Before I had the chance to reply, another text came through. "Wester Drumlins. Come as s

I remember my first ever acting role was in Year Two, back in the days of sandpits and skipping and hair tied up in bunches. I was given the main part in my infant school's Christmas show - I was 'Wilma' the caterpillar, complete with a costume consisting of a giant green sack and a pair of wobbly antennae. Wilma was left out by her insect friends, who had already transformed into beautiful butterflies, whilst the caterpillar remained, well, a caterpillar. The play was about Wilma finding her wings, and her journey and the people (well, insects) she met along the way. I sang a solo, something I'd never dream of doing now, and changed into my

                                              The Sparrow and The Hawk                                                          Chapter Four I am unsure of how long the silence lasted for, when my storytelling had ended. The only sound was the occasional clanking of teacups, as Mrs Hudson busied herself in the flat below. Sherlock simply sat there, entangled in his own analytical thoughts, peering through a large, wonky magnifying glass at the grains of wood on the coffee table. I could not imagine what was running through his impossible mind at that moment, but I had enough sense to know not to interrupt him - when I'd earlier begun to n

 -The Sparrow And The Hawk-         -Chapter 3- I managed to keep my calm, during that lengthy cab journey. The taxi driver was not very talkative - which suited me perfectly; I was not in the mood for conversation. "Here we are, sweet'art!" He leered, pulling the car to a stop and glancing at the meter. "That'll be £15, then." I handed the cash to him, and he grinned, flashing a gold tooth. Lovely. I thanked him quietly and shut the taxi door behind me, tucking back a strand of my blonde hair that the wind had teased loose. The skies were grey and overcast that day, as dull as the row of houses with identical black doors that st

I slept restlessly that night. I tossed and turned next to a snoring Larry, who was incessantly mumbling and disturbing my worried thoughts. I could not remove the image of Mr. Holmes from my mind. Why did he want to speak to me, of all people? It could be dangerous. He could be dangerous. I had no idea what trouble I could be entering myself into! I rolled out of bed, my bare feet padding across the carpet and down the stairs, into the kitchen. I mustn't ask for advice from Larry, I concluded – he'd be protective, as always; he'd never let me go and visit Sherlock alone, a man I barely knew. Not after what we'd both been through, the e

-The Sparrow And The Hawk-           -Chapter One- I have decided to make an account, a sort of journal, about the events of the past week. I had not experienced anything of the sort for four years. I thought that my life had definitely had more than its fair share of extraordinary events, but it seems, now, that that was not the case. I met a man, simply in passing, early on Monday morning. I had been left in charge of the shop for the day - and business was as usual, the odd customer, but plenty of time for peace and quiet; blissful peace and quiet. My silent thoughts were soon interrupte