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A Genius, A Doctor and...A Baby?It’s a late spring night on Baker Street in North Manchester, the air smelling of rain and fresh baked goods from a bakery down the road, whose owner was up late preparing for the next day’s business.
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A dimly lit apartment, the only lights from a lamp and the blueish glow of a laptop, as the city bustled outside the windows, the pale amber streetlights casting halos on empty sidewalks a deep grey.
A man, dressed in a blue grey bathrobe, lounges on the couch, a pale arm lying over his eyes, thick dark curls on his head in a crazy unkept fashion, soft enough you’d almost want to touch it if it weren’t for the loaded handgun in Sherlock Holmes’ other hand, hanging limply down.
The detective peeks from beneath his sleeve at his friend, partner, flat mate and one real connection to the ou