I hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmistakable. It is Sherlock Holmes who is playing. It must be. I hope with all my heart that he is playing for me . . .
Anthony HorowitzAlex decided heโd had enough. He put down his knife. โAll right,โ he said. โYouโve made it pretty clear that you donโt want to work with me. Well, thatโs fine. Because I donโt want to work with you either. And for what itโs worth, nobody would ever believe you were my mom because no mom would ever behave like you.โ โAlexโฆ,โ Carver began. โForget it! Iโm going back to London. And if youโre Mr. Byrne asks why, you can tell him I didnโt like the jelly, so I went home to get some jam.
Anthony Horowitz