Sherlock Fic: The Problem of the Purloining Poet
The Problem of the Purloining Poet
The mind of man, that miserable wight,
Shall not shine on a shred--
"Sherlock! Only you would get a case with a psychopath who writes clues in Old English poetry." He flipped through the dictionary again, muttering "where is that 'd' thing anyway?".
"Eth is with thorn after 't'."
"You know that they're called?" He nearly ripped a page as he turned it, then cursed and slammed the book down. "Doesn't some Medievalist owe you a favor?"
"No, you're doing fine." And Sherlock swept out the door.
"I'm translating bæfta as 'BAFTA,' and there's nothing you can do about it."