Tag Archives: detective

A Series Of Strange Incidents Occurring Within and Outside the Walls of 221B Baker Street

(……….I don’t even know…)

~*~

A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE

Chase me, one, two, three

Scurry, hurry, you and John

Easy boys……..no rush.

~*~

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH

Who did I marry?

A double missionary

Who are you, Mary?

~*~

A FUN HOBBY

A case of cheap thrills

Another chalk up the kill

Pastime, if you will.

~*~

LESTRADE JUST WANTS A BREAK

I tire of such games

Huge bombings and explosions

Not my division.

~*~

WHO IS MYCROFT HOLMES?

Diogenes club member

Or, if circumstances rise

British Government.

~*~

MOLLY’S WOES

Hair done, lipstick lush

Cold corpses, science, cheek blush

Sherlock, notice me.

~*~

#1 TOURIST SPOT

Buckingham Palace

Home of monarchs, nicked ashtrays,

Detectives in sheets…

~*~

GOODBYE BRITANNIA

Bye, Mrs. Hudson

Baker Street will be empty

And England will fall.

~*~

KING AND KEY

I got my own crown

And the key to everywhere

Let the fun begin.

~*~

THE BRUISED VICAR AND THE WOMAN

Man punched ’round the clock

Secretive woman defrocked

Shhh…I am S H E Rlocked.

~*~

WILDEST STAG PARTY

Beakers of lager

A giggling game of guessing

Off to clue for looks.

~*~

NEARLY GAVE MRS. HUDSON A HEART ATTACK BUT WORTH IT

Adventure beckons

Or I could sit here waiting…

I say, damn my leg!

~*~

SUITING UP

Big coat, short Watson

Blue scarf, deerstalker hat

Ready for action.

~*~

THE POOR LANDLADY

Eyeballs in their tea

Chemicals, brutality

A head in the fridge.

~*~

#MORIARTYLIVES

Bullet in my mouth

Bloody grin on my cold face

Fake deaths—such a drag.

~*~

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry

A Detective’s Ennui

Braindead from boredom
I’m lead to distraction
Scratching the surface of life…

~*~

Boring. Boring. Boring.

Nothing at all stimulating.

My mind is highly intricate and addled with explosives

This stalling planet is too small to contain the universe veering in my sleeves

.

All I hear from my violin is endless screeching noises

And all silence ever does is draw out the pretentious inside voices

Sitting idly and wasting time on frenzied sharks biting my head

A cup of tea won’t even calm me down as I tediously fill the walls with lead

.

I need another case or two or three or four right now

Why are murderers so awfully slow like molasses somehow?

The dullness of reality makes my perfect system crash

And can’t even be fixed easily with a nicotine patch

.

Where’s the fun? Where’s the thrill?

The feeling of not feeling anything but excitement and chills?

The game is afoot, and the madness begins

And yet I’m still sitting here, jaded, forced to count my sins

.

Boring. Boring. So much weariness, it’s mocking

In this mediocre, mind-numbing planet I’m left staring, left uncaring

Dropped off somewhere in the middle, with a mind so impossibly quick

But all their shaded static eyes ever see is a man so terribly sick

.

Boring. So boring. Why does it have to be so arid?

Humans with their minds so barely-used, straightforward, and placid

Hanging my head back to the end of another lacklustre colourless day

Maybe tomorrow the criminals will finally come out to play.

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Magnifying Glass

It may be highly useful, detective

For when you solve crimes for your own personal art

But just how much would it help in your observation

In solving a human’s heart?

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry