LetAnOwlIn

Chapter 1 Sherlock Holmes was a Consulting Detective. For the past 5 years, he had been enlisted by Detective Inspector Lestrade and his band of morons to solve mysterious cases all over London. When he wasn’t being brilliant and solving unsolvable crimes, he was in the Morgue running experiments. Several days ago, he had been testing how bruises might appear on a corpse shortly after death, when an old friend had introduced him to a most interesting man. Dr John Watson, obvious war veteran from Afghanistan, with a psychosomatic limp in his left leg, was looking for somewhere to live. Sherlock had just found a lovely apartment in Baker

Several weeks had passed since Cenahria had come to stay at the Inn with Jaune and the others. Jaune had noticed that she would spend most days staying up late, drinking in the bar with Qrow. On occasion, he had been looking out of his window, unable to sleep, and he would see them coming back to the Inn, but neither one ever spoke about where they would go or what they did. In fact, no one else seemed to have noticed that they even left, so Jaune stayed silent. He personally felt that Qrow was a bad influence on her, often buying her drinks, usually doubles. Why would an older guy buy so many alcoholic drinks for a younger woman, Jaune had w

Cenahria stared into those deep, red eyes, conflicted. She could sense the fear, and confusion that Qrow was feeling, and despite wanting to reassure him, she knew that she couldn’t lie. “Grimm? Here? Are you sure? How can you even be sure? How do you know? I think that rum has gone to your head…” Qrow’s voice was deep, and sent shivers down her spine, but she ignored the sensation. She shook her head. “I… I can’t explain it to you. Please. Just trust me. There are Grimm coming and we have to stop them.” Qrow looked longingly back into the warmth of the Inn, and Cenahria felt a sharp pang

It had not been a good day so far for Qrow Bronwen. His semblance had been wreaking havoc all around him. First had been Jaune falling down the stairs, although Qrow was not convinced that had been his semblance, instead preferring to believe it was simply the boy’s idiocy that had caused the accident. And then, when he had been sat, quietly drinking, the waitress had knocked over an entire shelf of bottles. Now, he sat in a booth in the corner, on his own, far away from the other patrons. His nieces and their friends had all gone out for the day, and he had been left in relative peace. The clumsy waitress had been making eyes at him al

The noise was deafening. Even in absolute silence, Cenahria’s mind would be filled with an array of noise, varying from bright, joyful laughs, to bitter tears and screams. It was always so hard to separate them out, harder still to filter her own thoughts, her own voice. Sitting close to the mouth of an alleyway, Cenahria fought the urge to run deeper into the dark. It was a bright day, from what she could see through the throng of people walking past, but the light barely touched this place she called home. She knew it wouldn’t help, but it was nice to imagine for a moment that she could run away from all of this. No-one paid he