The flames in the fireplace crackled as they burned, and Sherlock, having simply draped a thick woolen coat over himself, slowly opened his eyes.
His nearly amber brown pupils slowly focused, becoming sharp gradually.
With a deep and forceful inhalation, Sherlock creaked to a sit from his rocking chair with effort.
He stood up and used the chemical equipment on the table to heat water with his somewhat trembling hands. He only heated it to about thirty or forty degrees, just enough to remove the chill of the early winter morning, before adding three generous spoonfuls of honey.
After downing it in one gulp, he silently closed his eyes and stood upright in silence.
He seemed to be savoring the taste of the honey water or quickly recovering his strength.
It was a while before he opened his eyes again. Only then did Sherlock Hermes, who always appeared self-possessed, finally return in full.
"Why did I rank third?"
