Sherlock Holmes: A Moonlit Night in Victorian London

A Sherlock Holmes and John Watson fanfic

Lighthearted, more or less

That soothing palm brushed across his forehead for the last time, warm with the distinctive heat of a living body, its touch roughened by old calluses on the fingertips.

Then the pungent smell of a sickly-sweet liquid grew cold in an instant, before turning stiff.

The sky over London was dark with clouds. Icy raindrops fell, first sparsely, then in a torrent, mercilessly pounding the uneven ground of its streets and alleys and kicking up clouds of dust. In the increasingly damp air, they mingled into a musty haze that shrouded the whole earth.

It was raining.