And here he was without his John. Yes, his. Perhaps part of why Sherlock was so very bad at connecting with others had more to do with his attempt to own them rather than be part of them.
My mother, my book, my experiment, my brother, my John.
My John.
"I'll need the room cleared. No distractions. But first... How exactly did someone get in here?" Sherlock knew it was impossible. Nearly impossible.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-01-09 12:45 am (UTC)My mother, my book, my experiment, my brother, my John.
My John.
"I'll need the room cleared. No distractions. But first... How exactly did someone get in here?" Sherlock knew it was impossible. Nearly impossible.
He'd tried before.