#wintersoldiermoran

[agente15]

wintersoldiermoran is following you

"Hi, BuckBuck." Smiles at him. "Thank you to follow me."

[realityneverphasesme-blog]

wintersoldiermoran said: //*whispers* You should totally go rp with my mycroft

-casually slides over- Who is your Mycroft????

[archive-johnwatsonof221b-blog]

wintersoldiermoran is now stalking you.

Locking the door of 221 B. John headed out into the crowded streets of London.  Sometimes he simply liked to get away from the cramped flat and take a walk, and perhaps fetch some coffee.  However, when he turned a corner, he couldn't help but feel like he was being followed.  Sherlock kept warning him about Jim on the lose but of course John didn't quite listen.

[starspangledgarters]

I Still See Your Ghost {@wintersoldiermoran}

New York was a place that people seemed to flock to - drawn by the allure of promised riches beyond that of glimmering gold and sparkling silver. Whether it was for the cultures that pervaded the atmosphere, the sheer quantity of the types of people that littered the pavement with footsteps and cigarette butts, the honks and humdrum of city life, or maybe just so that people could say that yes; they too had walked the streets paved with gold. Er... figuratively.

Stephanie would be lying if she didn't find the city comforting, in an odd sort of way.

But that didn't detract from the fact that despite the odd familiarity, a nagging feeling had her close her sketchbook with a quiet thump against the table, leaning back in her chair as small puffs of steam escaped from her coffee. Her gaze travelled across the other patrons, the pedestrians, the cars, and she couldn't help but draw the parallels between the two different times that were present in her memory.

Now, there's nothing like a decent cup of coffee, and the sounds of road rage to get a good start on the day, but Stevie's thoughts, admittedly, were on other matters. Namely those of the more nostalgic sort. Damn memories and their peculiar way of striking when one's barricades are lowered.

Maybe that's why that man with the milk moustache suddenly made her think of Dugan, or how that woman's red lipstick had her think of Peggy, or the way that that guy looked a bit like Bucky-

Wait. Wait one minute. Snapping up out of her chair, the legs screeching against the concrete, she swiped her sketchbook from the table, and hastily used her other hand to dig out a folded bill from her pocket, slapping it onto the table. Swiping her bag from beside her, it was a mad pelt to try and catch up to the now disappearing figure, but this was nothing compared to chasing a speeding cab, really. Huh; probably not many dames could boast that fact, really.

"Hey! Hey, you!" Stephanie called, weaving through the crowd, in a desperate effort to just try and see, to know. Was it all in her head? "Hey, fella, wait up!"