Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Frigid CoffinI was woken this morning by the sound of a large crash coming from the kitchen, followed by the familiar whimper-barks of my dog, Gladstone. Fearing the worst, as per usual, I dressed with haste and left my bedroom. The apartment seemed to be in the same chaotic state of disarray that it was when I went to sleep the night before (I won't pretend "order" or "cleanliness" are words that have ever entered my vocabulary when the topic of shared loggings with Holmes is brought up). It wasn't until I'd reached the kitchen that I realised what the cause for the sound, and my dog's distress, had been.
The small collection of groceries that I had acquired since arriving were thrown about the tile floor. Gladstone, it seemed, was numbing the pain of whatever had caused him to bark, with the remains of the previous night's glazed ham. The refrigeration itself had been tipped over with Holmes, standing inside it an attempting to re-purpose his jackknife as a makeshift screwdriver.
Allegedly, it was of great scientific importance that he understand how the device used electricity (typically hot, as light bulbs, etc) was used to keep things
cold.
...At which point I decided to try an experiment of my own. I've read that refrigerators cannot be opened from the inside leading to the suffocation of trapped occupants. The results? Much to my chagrin, Holmes certainly hasn't suffocated, though his time on ice definitely cooled his temper.
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