As the sun illuminated the valley below young Sherlock leant forward, “We’re meant to be in training Mary, this is ridiculous.”
Shooting a glance towards Mary Watson he was surprised to see the young lady gainfully employed in constructing something.
“That’s the point Sherlock, we’re meant to use our skills to catch the lead balloon.”
“And pray tell me how I’m meant to do that.”
As Mary’s shoulders tightened and pleased he grinned.
“You’re not,” She stated as she jumped from the balloon hanging beneath her rickety hang glider with grim determination, “I am.”
“She’s soaring,” Sherlock murmured with admiration.