As I sit with Sherlock Holmes,
in Baker Street's lair.
The gentle patter of rain,
caresses the air.

The glow of lamplight,
casts a warm, golden hue.
In this cocoon of peace,
whispered dreams renew.

The steam from our cups,
mingles with the mist.
As we chat and unwind,
in a tranquil tryst.

The world outside,
seems to disappear.
As we revel in the company,
of one so dear.

The rain plays a symphony,
on the cobblestone street.
A soothing, gentle melody,
so bittersweet.

It washes away,
the grime of the city's strife.
And we are left,
with a new lease on life.

Holmes' mind, a marvel,
a wondrous thing.
With each word he speaks,
I feel the heart sing.

The world's problems,
seem to fade and recede.
As we savor the simple pleasures,
of tea and creed.

In the flicker of light,
and the sound of rain.
I find myself, in this moment,
free from pain.

For in this refuge,
from the world's chaos and din.
I find a tranquil break,
where solace begins.


© #Sherlocked