A bloody good morning to you too.
I have seen a great many impossible things in my time adventuring with Sherlock Holmes. I have seen madmen, phantom hounds, Chinese ciphers, found a knife in the head of Margaret Thatcher (the plaster one, not the real one), and even sat in Buckingham Palace while my flatmate sat there without his pants on. But this. This has got to be the most ludicrous thing that I have ever, ever been witness to in my life.
Fictional! Me! So I suppose that some bloke just made up everything that happened to me, then? Those cases? Being shot in the shoulder? I remember that rather vividly, and I shouldn’t like to have the pain and sacrifice I endured overseas to be discounted as the figment of someone’s bloody imagination! Not to mention everything I’ve been through on Baker Street, the people I’ve known… Does my degree even still count? Christ. I… I don’t even know what to think anymore.
I suppose the proper course of action after his news is to find a pub and have a pint. Except that apparently, the Queen’s currency doesn’t work here.
Brilliant day so far. How’s yours?
Fictional! Me! So I suppose that some bloke just made up everything that happened to me, then? Those cases? Being shot in the shoulder? I remember that rather vividly, and I shouldn’t like to have the pain and sacrifice I endured overseas to be discounted as the figment of someone’s bloody imagination! Not to mention everything I’ve been through on Baker Street, the people I’ve known… Does my degree even still count? Christ. I… I don’t even know what to think anymore.
I suppose the proper course of action after his news is to find a pub and have a pint. Except that apparently, the Queen’s currency doesn’t work here.
Brilliant day so far. How’s yours?