221b

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the affiliated characters or ideas--their creator is the remarkable Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

KS: Another simple little ficlet. Sometimes it's hard to get an idea out with just 221 words, especially when you're on somewhat of a roll. XD I had to delete a lot from this one...well...

Enjoy!

"Just let me see it, Holmes…"

"No."

"One look won't—"

"No."

The consulting detective bore a very cross and indignant expression as he held the bag of ice to his forehead. I was at a loss as to what to do; none of my apologising had helped so far.

"How could I have known you were on the other side of the door?"

"Well, for one, you could have heard my steps."

"I admit to being a little too distracted to do so."

"Why did you swing it open with so much force?"

"I wanted to get to the tobacconists before it closed…"

Holmes's grey eyes flitted to my face and surveyed my countenance. After a moment he relaxed with a sigh.

"I know… It wasn't quite all your fault. I should have heard your footsteps, also." He shifted the ice-bag slightly. "I'm afraid you'll never make it to the tobacconist now."

"I know," I replied with a sigh.

"You can borrow some of mine if you like."

"No, I'm to see Mary later, and she doesn't care for the smell of your tobacco."

Holmes snorted a laugh. "You're free to use my cigarettes, then, or that box of cigars the last client left. It's the least I could do for the man who made my skull black and blue."

Thanks for reading, please, review!