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“What is it?”
“A hammer, obviously.”
John sneered at Sherlock, but before he could speak Sherlock added, “Judging by the size and the effect it has on the table, I should be able to lift it.”
He reached his arms out, preparing to move the new object of interest to his microscope for studying. However, as he wrapped his arms around the handle, it wouldn’t budge.
”Oh, shut up,” Sherlock stated, to the chagrin of a giggling John.
“Let me try,” John laughed as he bended over to the hammer.
It moved, just a little, but didn’t leave the table.
“Hold on, I have something that might move it,” Sherlock cried as he dashed away, followed by John.
As they left, Mrs. Hudson entered the room, duster in hand. She tutted at the state of the room and went about her cleaning. When she approached the table, she didn’t blink twice at the hammer lying there.
Gingerly, she picked the hammer up, dusted, and left with only a, “Still not your housekeeper.”