Sherrinford Holmes always liked the library, shelves upon shelves of old books. The smell of leather, paper and ink, along with the marble stairways and corridors gave a feeling of ancient times.
Carrying a few books under his arm, he made his way down the stairs, towards the front door. That was when someone brushed passed his shoulder, and the book tumbled down the stairs. He bent down and picked it up, turning around. "Well, that was a little clumsy, darling." He said.
You?
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