Work Text:
“Vamberry the Wine Merchant?” I smiled at my friend. “That was before my Boswell had come along to glorify me. I was just beginning to add crime-solving to my nighttime pursuits.”
“The fellow was supplying a gang, you say?”
“A specific type of gang, yes. I could just smell the contraband amid the legitimate stock in his cellar, each one racked amid a full case of his regular red. And when I broke open one bottle, I smelled it – the rich, intoxicating odour of fresh human blood.”
Watson made a face. “As mortal as me?”
“And paid well. Greed, Watson.”