KitKatsback

     Silence flooded the street which 221B rested. That particular flat was abnormally quiet today. Usually it would be filled with the sound of small conversations, experiments, or the occasional telly playing in the background, but today was different. 221B was silent, still, as if no one was there, although that wasn't the case.    Sherlock Holmes laid on the couch with his eyes softly closed. His hand, pressed together, rested right under his chin. His mind was deep in his mind palace. The only visible movement was the slight rising and falling of his chest.    Then suddenly there was a sound. A few footsteps and a click of the door f