Week 191, The Tattooed Hand

Across the great expanse of porkpie hats Holmes stared with an expression of abject horror. Far be it from him to be effusive on any subject beyond his own realm of experience, and Ska was not high up on that list, but this was a scene he would not readily speak of again for some time.

Here Homes was, now being offered a drink of something called 'lager' yet that which was in possession of a foaming head and a warmth somehow reminiscent of the process of micturition. An unprepossessing cordial. Holmes put his own feelings out of the picture and engaged with the vulgar liquid with an air of great relish. The porkpie hats, despite the previous indication presented by their dress and appearance, proceeded to laugh with an hitherto unrecognised hysteria. It became apparent to Holmes that there was some humour being enjoyed at his expense. Holmes maintained a silence and grimness of aspect despite this tawdry provocation.

One of the porkpie hats offered to make up for this singular and disagreable instance by purchasing a 'chaser' for Holmes. Holmes would not hear of it and disconnected from the engagement, for at that moment his eyes alighted on the subject matter of his search.

The tattooed hand.*

For official/internal use only:

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* Honestly, what do you want for free? Eh? EH?