psl.

[docwithablog]

the first | action
the second | random scenario
the third | action
the fourth | texting
the fifth | action
the sixth | action
the seventh | shipping picture prompt
the eighth | action
the ninth | texting
the tenth | texting
the eleventh | action
the twelfth | texting
the thirteenth | action
the fourteenth | texting
the fifteenth | action
the sixteenth | action
the seventeenth | action (unfinished)

Comments

[docwithablog]

[ The Savoy Theatre. Good. Sherlock's up to date with the where and the what, but not the how and the how's very important, if someone's in line of fire, John would say. He's about to nod his head and ask, but Sherlock proceeds to shove his phone in his face, a small headline about a break-in at a barbershop and this might very well be relevant to our interests, the other man says before marching through the flat and grabbing a coat (not the coat, John hasn't actually seen even a shred of it, since his return)... But -- What's he grasping from the barbershop break-in? Come on, Sherlock, don't leave him hanging like that, Christ. With a groan, he follows a couple of steps behind.

Here they go again.

He honestly can't help it. The rush of adrenaline and excitement spreading underneath his skin, through his system, through his veins, making his heart pump twice as fast as it's done at any given time since Sherlock -- well, died, disappeared, went away, call it whatever you'd like, it's the same bloody thing. The consequences don't change according to vocabulary. John halfway bounces down the staircase, grabbing his own coat as they pass it on the way, shrugging it on.

Maybe Sherlock isn't the only one who's returned from the dead. Maybe, as always, he's dragged John with him. Come along, John, come along, yes? ]