My Dear Watson-Audiobook Excerpt
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
one boot untied and assumed that I was the flustered one. This is only my natural state. Watson sits in a chair by the door, hands compulsively rubbing his knees, moustache twitching, irregularly waiting in a fit of nervous agony. If I would press my ear to his chest, I would hear his heart beating a swift clip like a thing. Terrified, darling, I say as I descend the stairs in front of him. Would you help me tie these laces? I don't want to bend in this dress and wrinkle it up before our guest arrives. Of course, he says, his moustache twitching. At Mass, he mumbles. I place my foot on the seat of his chair, toe pointed between his knees. He takes up my bootstraps and starts to tighten them. But his fingers shake too badly. I can't, he admits, his voice wavering pathetically, as if he might burst into tears. He sings his head back into his hands. That's a ride. I'll ask it for help, I guess. The top of his head. But he hardly notices. It's as if a fly has bumped into him. Cool thing. A case with his man thinks of us I Hubble into the kitchen trying to keep my boot on all the way. I am making an effort on behalf of my husband, but I am not concerned with whether or not he likes me. I think the likelihood is rather stacked against us, becoming friends with all that we have stolen from one another. But I seem to be alone in my reluctance to meet this man. Kitty is chattering with our cook as I walk in, and she is positively blushed with anticipation and a tall Syria that I would actually be meeting Sherlock Holmes and she's so jealous she refuses to believe me. It's true that will be introduced to Mrs Wilson. I only want to get a look at him. Maybe let the distinguished gentleman kiss my hand. I'll introduce you as a princess if you just do it. This place is for me, I tell her. Kitty immediately sinks into a puddle of her apron and does thumb up. Sweet girl does whatever anyone tells her. Unfortunately, the young men in this area have already picked her out, is the favourite, but she's got good people to look out for her welfare. If anyone would call us good. Thank you, child, I say to him. Any other improvements you'd make of Avignon attitude equips Maurice the cook. He knows he can say whatever he pleases to me that I love him like my own father. He died before the war broke out. The one comfort in that was that at least my father never had to see his country bombed. Maurice has been with my family since I was a child, and he still treats me like one. It makes a woman feel young and I don't mind. It's true that if I choose to act like a petulant child, I cannot be surprised. When people speak to me this way, I dread the treatment will receive from Sherlock Holmes. He is not famous for respecting women. Kitty squints at my outfit from bottom to top. She stops at my hair and shakes her head. I'm almost tempted to pat it down some kitchen grease, she says, standing on tiptoe and licking her fingers, smoothing my hair up and back. I look forward to the end of these celebrations. I say to Maurice, I feel like we've been hosting since the armistice was signed and that was six months ago. I don't like being polite for so long. We knew, Murray says in his board sneering way. But he is smiling. I stop over to get his face just above the whiskers, careful to get my body well away from him and the stove equally terrified of stains as a fire, The door times and each of us in the kitchen freezes. That must be him, the famous him when we've all been hearing about for years and yet never set eyes on. Everyone I know has built such an idol of him. That paragon of English offence, just the sort of figure people would put heart behind when the whole world cried out for justice during the recent conflicts, is more important than ever as a figure of legend. And it's all Walt, since doing that made him so. People do tend to forget that part. I feel my eyes go wide and anticipation, in spite of my deliberate intentions, to remain unimpressed by this man. I feel a strange presentment