CRAYFISH

noun- a nocturnal freshwater crustacean that resembles a small lobster and inhabits streams and rivers.

John Watson smiled in relaxation, as he basked in the sun's warm light. He was sitting on a bench overlooking The Thames, accompanied by a very surly detective. John could practically feel the waves of irritation washing off of his companion. John reluctantly opened his eyes and glanced at him. He was met with an icy glare.

"Please enlighten me, as to why you interrupted me during a high-stakes case, and dragged me to a soggy park bench in front of a polluted river?"

John rolled his eyes in Sherlock Homes' direction. Must we do this every time?

He sighed and laid his head back on the seat. "You have been in seclusion for going on 37 hours, and I know for a fact that you haven't eaten or slept during any of that, because I've been with you the whole darn time. The world isn't going to end if you haven't found your missing person by tomorrow. Now Sherlock, please before you go bounding off give me ten minutes of not following you around."

John heard Sherlock mumbling incoherently under his breath as he stood and stalked off.

He felt his stiff muscles slowly loosen. John wasn't worried about Sherlock wandering off. He wouldn't go far without-

"OUCH!"

John's eyes flew open and he leaped out of his seat. "Sherlock?"

John couldn't believe what his eyes beheld. Sherlock was down by the waters edge, dancing around like a mad man, and swinging his arms violently. The next thing john noticed was a small black blob that was getting whipped around on the end of Sherlock's finger.

"Get it off, get it off, GET IT OFF!"

John couldn't hold in his laughter as he realized the great detective, Sherlock Holmes, was reduced to a shrieking school girl, by a small crayfish.