I am fab ..fabulous not fabricated

"It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning during the winter of '97 that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It was Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager, stooping face and told me at a glance that something was amiss. "Come, Watson, come!" he cried. "The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!" Ten minutes later we were both in a cab and rattling through the silent streets on our way to Charing Cross Station. The first faint winter's dawn was beginning to appear, and we could dimly see the occasional figure of an early workman as he passed us, blurred and indistinct in the opalescent London reek. Holmes nestled in silence into his heavy coat, and I was glad to do the same, for the air was most bitter and neither of us had broken our fast. It was not until we had consumed some hot tea at the station, and taken our places in the Kentish train, that we were sufficiently thawed, he to speak and I to listen. Holmes drew a note from his pocket and read it aloud:-- ............"



Sherlock Holmes romanticized grey winter morning, hot bubbling teas, chill wild london wind, impressioned on my 8 year old mind with a effect, so much so, I would spend many a days, day dreaming about wearing long coats, fighting the cold wind.Especially when the temperature outside, was soaring upto 42 degrees,imprisoned in the unbearable, populated DTC bus of Delhi, the life line for many college goers surving on Rs 25 for 3 month buspass, only to be awakened by the loud uproars between the conductor and the passengers fighting over a 2 rupees ticket.Today I walked through my dream, the romantic grey winter morning, bliss.....But.... I missed my Watson ....I missed the old associations , I missed Delhi and like I always say ..."I miss the essence of loving it and hating it at the same time".