Ofice Hours, Tuesday

[3patchproblem]

Since the hotel had somehow become a hive of hormonal debauchery, Sherlock was in his office. Thinking.

This happened to coincide with laying on the couch and looking very much like a corpse, but that was just Sherlock for you. He couldn't do anything normal. Just ask John! Wait, no. Don't ask John. He was acting just as twitchy as everyone else.

So boring.

[[Open office is open]]