[Have a relatively boring shot of someone's living area. Obviously the guide is not meant to be on. Nothing new there.
Near the back, you can see an area that transitions to what seems to be the kitchen. For a few seconds, there's nothing.
And then there's smoke.
And then there's a lot of smoke. Is the kitchen on fire? Hard to tell from this
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Should I just let the kitchen burn down, then? Yes, there's a happy thought, especially if you share it with my flatmates. [sarcasm.]
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[ He clicks his tongue against the rough of his mouth. Lovely reply. ]
Dear me. I can assume it isn't your night to wash dishes, huh?
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[By default, Sherlock isn't the most charming creature. It's even worse when he's irritated.]
Is it ever? I avoid mundane tasks, though I seem to be forced into them since I arrived on the ship. Case in point: blood pudding.
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... This is going to end well.
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I'll have you know it went just fine. Fires are easily taken care of. [He won't hear the end of it from John, though.]
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A few minutes later he responds, once the... mess had been cleaned up.]
Blood pudding. Or at least some variation of it.
[The variation that requires setting the thing on fire, maybe.]
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I have never heard of it before.
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Pig's blood, bread crumbs, mutton fat, milk, barley, rolled oats, ground mint.
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Do you need any help, sir?
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No, no, everything is- [cough] -fine. [A dismissive hand wave goes here. Or maybe he was waving away excess smoke. Who knows.]
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[Once an officer always an officer it seems. And she'd rather not see the rest of the ship catch on fire.]
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The kitchen is a mess and is in need of cleaning, if that sounds at all tempting.
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[ iceland is sort of in awe of this disaster. ]
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I was looking for a more efficient way of speeding up the boiling process. [probably with materials not suggested for cooking.] If I'm to suffer through a mundane task, I might as well make it an experiment.
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