Room 604/605 - Arms Hotel, Saturday Morning
With nearly half of the pink roses Shiba had sent him destroyed in various experiments, Sherlock was taking a moment to rest and collect his thoughts.
One could only set fire to a rose so much before it grew boring. And no one wanted a bored Sherlock Holmes. Least of all the owners of the hotel. Luckily someone had found a new spot to hide their gun and Sherlock couldn't be arsed to suss it out.
So, for now, he lay on the couch, thinking. Not sleeping.
[[For that roomie and kid.]]
One could only set fire to a rose so much before it grew boring. And no one wanted a bored Sherlock Holmes. Least of all the owners of the hotel. Luckily someone had found a new spot to hide their gun and Sherlock couldn't be arsed to suss it out.
So, for now, he lay on the couch, thinking. Not sleeping.
[[For that roomie and kid.]]