Lost

As you’re hot on the murderer’s trail

Right next to the world’s greatest detective

Time loses its meaning

And you’re lost in the chase

The Napoleon of crime

Sets intertwining puzzles

And life-threatening traps for us

We’ve almost got him

He’s standing right ther-

“Hey, what book are you reading?”

You’re pulled out of the pages

As if you’ve been hooked

And pulled back into the real world

You look up, met with a set of prying eyes

Not all that interested

Just trying to make conversation

I stare at the expressionless face, sharply replying,

“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes”

Feeling a disconnect between those words

And the experience of actually reading the story

He shrugs and walks away, not even realizing that he

Just interrupted the meeting of the century

But there’s no time to worry about that now

You fall back into the book, and hear,

“You must stand clear, Mr. Holmes,

Or be trodden underfoot”