[Each syllable is pronounced -- Sherlock's eyebrows furrow in disbelief, but he doesn't put it into words. The modern marvels he's witnessed have done nothing to make this world seem less like he's caught a fever on the couch in Baker Street with John out there outside his mind trying his best to get him through it.
Perhaps Sherlock would have been less susceptible to a fever if he'd been less sedated for the last few weeks. No training, little air, less appetite...he feels miles away from the person he was two years ago, who brawled with Cordona's toughest and dodged knives and bullets and came out of it with nothing worse than scratches and dust on clothes chosen to impress. Honestly, given what he looks like now, it's goddamn surprising that the man's manner is this flirtatious. Sherlock Holmes is a wreck of his old self, in pyjamas and a dressing gown with a pistol in the pocket holding a mug of strong tea, and the only thing worse would be not to know this about himself. Norton gets the briefest flash of a look -- not a "disgusting!" look but a "you can't be serious" -- before it vanishes as quickly as it came, squirreled tidily away.]
no subject
[Each syllable is pronounced -- Sherlock's eyebrows furrow in disbelief, but he doesn't put it into words. The modern marvels he's witnessed have done nothing to make this world seem less like he's caught a fever on the couch in Baker Street with John out there outside his mind trying his best to get him through it.
Perhaps Sherlock would have been less susceptible to a fever if he'd been less sedated for the last few weeks. No training, little air, less appetite...he feels miles away from the person he was two years ago, who brawled with Cordona's toughest and dodged knives and bullets and came out of it with nothing worse than scratches and dust on clothes chosen to impress. Honestly, given what he looks like now, it's goddamn surprising that the man's manner is this flirtatious. Sherlock Holmes is a wreck of his old self, in pyjamas and a dressing gown with a pistol in the pocket holding a mug of strong tea, and the only thing worse would be not to know this about himself. Norton gets the briefest flash of a look -- not a "disgusting!" look but a "you can't be serious" -- before it vanishes as quickly as it came, squirreled tidily away.]
Sherlock Holmes.
[A beat.]
The washing machines have been useful, I admit.