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Deloreans and Detectives two"yes?" she asked.
"Oh," the man said, almost as if he'd been in a daze.
"I'm-" he began to introduce himself, but Ella cut him off. "Don't even bother saying your name, Doctor John Watson, I already know who you are and a lot about you, but where is Sherlock Holmes at?" she said all of this in such an abrupt rush that Watson was struck speechless. He just stood on the doorstep with amazement.
"Where. Is Sherlock Holmes? "Ella repeated her question with some measure of irritation. "Over here." a man's voice said in the livingroom of the house, which was only about ten feet away from the front door.
Ella looked at the British detective with much amusement. "why did you get in the house through my bedroom window? You could have just come in the normal way, like Watson did over here." Ella asked, pointing one finger at the British doctor. Holmes smiled.
"How did you know?" he asked, sounding like he was going to laugh.
Ella returned his smile.
Deloreans and Detectives oneIt was a typical day for most normal people in the United States of America. Well, firstly it was a Friday, and not everybody in the United States of America is what other folk call "normal".
Friday, in some people's opinions, is the very best day out of the whole week, and for the members of Team Delorean all thought that this was true.
The house of Pine Hollow was whirlwind of activity on that particular Friday afternoon, as always.
The house was being cleaned from top to bottom, and Ella unwillingly cleaned her bedroom, which was in its usual messy state. Messy, however, was an understatement. The bedroom looked like a tornado had passed through it, leaving clothes, books, sewing materials, and drawing pens all around in heaps.
Ella waded through the mess, armed with a black garbage bag and a white laundry basket in the other. She used the garbage bag to gather up trash, and the laundry basket to gather the dirty clothes that were scatter
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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