Holmes had been playing when the doorbell rang. Tucking his violin under his arm, he peered through the glass and threw open the door. His welcoming smile fades instantly when he sees the exhausted man on his porch. "Mr Clayborn! What..." He breaks off and hurriedly sets his violin aside (but carefully! It's a Stradivarius and certain courtesies are in order.) "Do come in!" He swings the door wide and ushers him inside. "Not a word now," he admonishes sternly. He points to a chair. "Sit. I'll get you a brandy. No arguments!" Not waiting to see if he's being obeyed, Holmes bustles over to the sideboard and fetches the brandy from the tantalus.
Sorry. I'm too tired right now to do the rhyming. I'll do better tomorrow, I promise.