“This is the heart of the matter,” he whispered. He pressed his ear to the wood. Then, with a sudden, violent movement, he wrenched open the clock’s lower panel.
The gas lamps of Baker Street hissed against a November gloaming so thick it seemed to press against the glass like a great, sooty hand. Within the warm confines of 221B, the air was heavy with another presence entirely: the restless energy of Sherlock Holmes. jeremy brett sherlock holmes episodes
Holmes, now transformed into a coiled spring of attention, gestured her to the chair. “Do not believe the physician, or do not believe the heart attack? Pray, be precise, Miss Vance. The devil is in the details.” “This is the heart of the matter,” he whispered
“Mr. Holmes,” she began, her voice a thread of sound. “My father, Professor Alistair Vance, died a fortnight ago. A heart attack, the physician said. But I do not believe it.” The gas lamps of Baker Street hissed against
The cycle repeated every thirty seconds.