12.7

"This is my first, and greatest case." Sherlock drew himself up to his fullest extension and gesticulated grandly with his bubble pipe. "This," Sherlock paused a bit too long for dramatic effect "is my finest hour."

"My, Sherri, that's grand. Did you make that up on your own?"

"I'm afraid so, Watson. I don't have the time to come up with witticisms right now. The case is afoot!"

"Sherri . . ."

"Name, Watson."

". . . you always say that. But I have literally no idea what it means."

"Watson, I didn't take you for an uneducated fool. How can you not know what it means?"

"Well it doesn't make much sense if you think about it. "Afoot?" What's afoot? Are there afoots?"

"Such is the case with most idioms, Watson. Try to not think about it too much, ok?" Sherlock lowered himself by taking on more water in his swim bladder. He floated mere inches above the now looming bulk of the shiny lump. The lump had four limbs. Each limb was large and flat and perfectly identical to the last. One limb was reaching up towards the sky, but each of the others lay flat. It looked like a four-legged starfish which had been flattened by a rock and was reaching up to placate the be-rocked attacker.
Watson scuttled up to Sherlock. "You've been silent for four hours now, Sherri."

"Twelve minutes, forty two seconds and perhaps . . . " Sherlock straightened and inhaled. "a half. But you couldn't be expected to know."

A long, pregnant pause passed between the two of them.

"WATSON!" Sherlock shouted, quite loudly.

"SHERRI!" Watson returned.

"Well, it was worth a shot. I thought perhaps if you were frightened, you might return to using my real name."

"If you were so lucky."