Hello! My name is Marill, and I will be writing for you today. This is my first attempt at this category, and I am having a lot of fun!
I sat, intrigued by the narratives in the morning's paper, hoping to enjoy a few hours of solace before heading out for my greatly cherished Sunday afternoon walk. I sipped a fresh cup of hot tea as I read an article about the London museum's acquisition of the latest finds from an archaeology dig in Egypt. Archaeology always struck me as a fascinating occupation. It was likely back-breaking work, but with great rewards. I could imagine the thrill of a discovery after weeks or even months of searching and digging. The vast riches alone that one could happen upon were enough to make any man consider changing professions.
This particular train of thought was interrupted by a startling cry from the private quarters of my fellow boarder, nearly causing me to spill my tea. Though the vocalization had sounded like "Eureka!", I still called out to my roommate to ask if all was well.
I didn't have to wait long for a reply, as he swung his door open and swiftly entered the sitting room, presenting me with some sort of fabric that he seemed quite enthralled by. "Watson, this may very well be the greatest discovery of the nineteenth century!"
My roommate is none other than Sherlock Holmes, London's greatest detective (and perhaps the greatest the world has ever known). Ever since I decided to go halves on a living arrangement with this man, I have seen my life transformed from one of quiet reflection and respectable medical practice to one of danger, intrigue and mystery. I have been Holmes' aid in several of his difficult cases and have taken a liking to chronicling these adventures, as I like to call them.
I am constantly astounded by Holmes' impeccable deductive skills as well as his ability to ward off his foes. He is a student of martial arts, as well as being a proficient boxer and swordsman. It defies my logic that a man so sound of mind can also possess the raw fighting abilities of a street tough.
My companion was standing in front of me, one shirtsleeve rolled up, preparing to give a demonstration of his newest discovery. During periods of inactivity, he usually becomes quite dispirited and refuses to rise from the couch or his bed for days on end. When there are no cases for him to ponder, he hardly eats or converses with anyone. Occasionally he even resorts to the use of drugs for amusement, a habit which I am quite opposed to. However, at times when he focuses his energy on his chemical experiments, I am glad, nay thrilled, to see him straying from his usual habits.
Holmes lit a candle on the side table and held up the cloth so that I could clearly see the experiment. "I have created a solution that, when used to treat any cloth, results in the cloth being completely fire-proof," he stated in an animated fashion. Holmes picked up the candle and held the piece of ragged cloth directly in the flame. Half a minute passed by as I observed the phenomenon.
I congratulated my friend on this accomplishment, but he held up a hand to silence me. "That is not all," he assured me. He then wrapped the cloth over his arm and held the candle against it. To my amazement, he then moved the flame up and down his bare skin. With a proud grin he said, "I also treated my arm with the solution."
"Why, Holmes, this is a most astonishing discovery! Thank how it may revolutionize home safety! Personal affects will be protected from near disaster!" I might have continued on had his confused expression not halted my excitement.
"I had actually thought more on the application of the solution being one of protection from extreme weather conditions. It has already been effective in protecting the bare skin from extreme cold, even for a longer period of time than it protects from heat." With a dignified look, he explained to me his sentiments. "You see, Watson, the solution I have created is not quite viscous enough to bond with cloth or most materials easily. The cloth I used for the demonstration had to be covered centimetre by centimetre in order to have the desired effect."
His hand waving dismissively in the air, I had the chance to notice several portions of charred skin on his forearm. "I see you had a bit of bad luck during your trials," I said. "Shall I fetch my medical bag and treat those burns?"
I was already standing but he shook his head. "It's no bother. Not even comparable to a sunburn."
Before I could insist otherwise, there was a knock at the door and our housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson entered the sitting room carrying a telegram. "Mr. Holmes," said she, "this just came for you."