SWEET SCENT OF ALCOHOL . john would have a fit , really , if he saw what kind of a place that sherlock was in. ( casino nightclub , elaborate. everything in los angeles was simply a show , and this was nothing less. ) base , muted , thrums beneath his skin , immaculate dress shoes clicking along marble floors. ( concierge , twenty-six with a scratched out tattoo on his wrist that used to read ‘carmen’ , she’d left him last weekend. she’d been cheating. at least she’d been honest. ) sherlock wasn’t planning to spend the night here. it would be far too enticing , far too tempting , & sherlock holmes did not make a good drunk. he pushes the door open with one hand as the bouncer waves him on through inside , & he can at last marvel in the gloriousness that was lux. ( why was he here again? ah , yes. something mycroft’s counterparts here in america were working on. ) there’s dangerous people , criminals , in this place. sickly sweet assaults his olfactory senses all over again , & a heaving sigh is given before he gives into his desire & heads over to the bar. perhaps one drink wouldn’t hurt.
[ @brnger & starter call . ]
