Sherlock faces a hair-raising moment

Sherlock was cradling his nose with elongated forefingers forming a pyramid on the bridge. I left him to his thoughts, reluctant to engage, but Mrs Hudson had no such reticence as she entered carrying a tray laden with breakfast offerings.

"Two soft-boiled eggs, a pot of tea, toast, apricots and the blackberry preserve I saved from last month, Sherlock. Now I must stoke up that fire, Dr Watson," and she busied herself.

"Indeed, Mrs Hudson, there is a chill in the air," I said, a statement of fact rather than a polite prop for discussion, for I could barely recall a March morning where I felt the need to keep the dressing gown belt tied so firmly.