Hunter of Hunters

Shadows fall on London streets

as the fog creeps in for the night

Nothing stirs as darkness descends

for everything is drenched in fright

The back alleyways where criminals crawl

are down to their last bits of crime

These hunters of bloodshot, terror and woe

are afraid to venture out into the night

For they fear the hunter of hunters

whose makes their blood run cold

The human but inhuman, stalker of demons

prowling the streets, he follows the scent

that their devilry so foolishly left

They he will find them and so much watch and wait

for the great Sherlock Holmes, bringer of doomed fate

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He appears unannounced with a swirl of fog

Cloaked in the blackness of night

He moves like a shadow as he searches for his prey

in the recesses of the darkest gloom

Then his cold iron gaze falls upon the poor devil

and his stare turns malicious and deadly

In a flash the crook is escorted away

imprisoned by bracelets of iron

When there is silence again and the fog slithers in

choking out life or sound

the hunter slips away into the night and fog

to prowl the streets once more