Breakfast at Tiffany's...?
Who: Residents of 3-8! (Holmes yes_mother_hen , Wesker completeglobal , Canada maple_syrup_can)
What: A nice breakfast...???
When: Backdated to the morning!
Where: At 3-8, of course!
Warnings: WESKER (sorry Jen)
Sherlock Holmes woke up, stretching his neck to get the crick out of it. As usual (well, not as usual, but it happened often enough that it was no longer alarming), he'd fallen asleep in some uncomfortable position on the rug after imbibing something that was probably meant to be used to disinfect wounds. Sitting up, he rubbed his temples, easing away a dull ache as he glanced at a little tableside clock that he'd procured for himself a little while ago.
...It was morning. This was rare, considering that the consulting detective slept at erratic hours and similarly rose at erratic hours.
Rising up off of the floor, Holmes sluggishly dragged himself out of his room and into the living room, his nose picking up the now-familiar scent of his roommate's cooking-- Canada was most likely making pancakes again, and Holmes was hungry, for once. He trundled into the small space that served as the 'dining room'...
...and almost ran into his other roommate, the austere-looking man who always seemed to look so immaculate. Holmes quirked a brow, but said nothing, his gaze traveling up and settling on red eyes.
Quaint. It was almost like a little get-together, even.
What: A nice breakfast...???
When: Backdated to the morning!
Where: At 3-8, of course!
Warnings: WESKER (sorry Jen)
Sherlock Holmes woke up, stretching his neck to get the crick out of it. As usual (well, not as usual, but it happened often enough that it was no longer alarming), he'd fallen asleep in some uncomfortable position on the rug after imbibing something that was probably meant to be used to disinfect wounds. Sitting up, he rubbed his temples, easing away a dull ache as he glanced at a little tableside clock that he'd procured for himself a little while ago.
...It was morning. This was rare, considering that the consulting detective slept at erratic hours and similarly rose at erratic hours.
Rising up off of the floor, Holmes sluggishly dragged himself out of his room and into the living room, his nose picking up the now-familiar scent of his roommate's cooking-- Canada was most likely making pancakes again, and Holmes was hungry, for once. He trundled into the small space that served as the 'dining room'...
...and almost ran into his other roommate, the austere-looking man who always seemed to look so immaculate. Holmes quirked a brow, but said nothing, his gaze traveling up and settling on red eyes.
Quaint. It was almost like a little get-together, even.