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@misteriios (callie adams foster)
He knocked on the open door. "Ms Adams Foster, yes? Sherlock Holmes. I believe that you and I have an appointment." He announced politely, if a touch curtly. He had never been one who had use for pleasantries. "If now is a bad time..."
@forgottenelegies (sansa stark)
"Can I help you, miss?" Sherlock looked up from his newspaper at the young woman hovering by the table. Was she looking for an empty seat or was she looking for assistance? Sherlock couldn't rightly say. "The seat is currently free, if that's what you're wondering. If it's my services you require, there's a contact form on my website."
@rainbowmuses (john watson)
"I do rather wish it was you and I at home, dear boy." He groused as they made their way up the steps. "You know how much I enjoy balls." But they had no choice in the matter. "A nice dinner and curling up together on the couch would have suited me just fine, but we'll have to make the best of it. To the art?"
@devilsmenu (irene adler)
"Miss Adler, isn't it?" Sherlock asked as he approached, recognising the woman. "It's been a while." Neutral ground for once, which made a change. Although he doubted that either of them would be completely off the clock that evening.
@rainbowmuses (john watson)
"I'm surprised that you didn't want to volunteer for anything at the market, Johnny." Sherlock tucked his arm through his husband's, as he looked at the information board. "Couldn't have been tempted to volunteer as 'hot santa'?"
@mischiefmuses (enola holmes)
Swearing under his breath, Sherlock pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his throat. He had thought that the London winters were bitterly cold, but they couldn’t compare to the freezing temperatures that engulfed Washington. He weaved his way through the crowd at the market, questioning even why he had bothered to go when it was so busy. But John had mentioned seeing a trinket at one of the stalls, and Sherlock had decided to try and pick it up if it was still available. Approaching the stall, he came suddenly to a stop at the sight of the young brunette. Why did she look familiar? There was something about the way she carried herself that reminded him of—
“Christ, Enola, is that you?”
@rainbowmuses (john watson)
Clutching a bunch of tissues to his face, Sherlock pressed the buzzer at the entrance of John’s building. “Watson!” Clearly calling him by his last name was a habit of a lifetime that he was yet to break. “I need you to let me up.” Patience dwindling as the tissues bloomed crimson, he jammed his finger against the buzzer a few more times. “John, please,” he whined into the speaker, “I need your help.” He had always been a terrible patient when ill or injured.
@softsliders19 (velma dinkley)
The modern coffee shop was a curious place, quite the departure from it’s more political origins, but it was an excellent place to observe when working on a case. A cup of rapidly cooling tea sat as his elbow as he made his way through the first of John’s novels that had been published here. “Can I help you?” He asked, barely looking up from the page.
