[She could have sat on the floor, or on the trunk, and he wouldn’t have cared. There is no sanctity of space in this version of 221B, only the whirlwind of Sholmes’ mind and the uncaring of his ennui, made manifest in the chaos.
Again, he locks the door behind him as he steps in. And again, he casts her a glance. Has she nothing to say? Is she in shock, post-harrowing carriage ride?]
no subject
Again, he locks the door behind him as he steps in. And again, he casts her a glance. Has she nothing to say? Is she in shock, post-harrowing carriage ride?]
Ms Sapione?