[John awakens with a low groan. He would prefer not to move right now. Or ever, really. He keeps lying where he is, debating the merits of trying to remain mostly horizontal for the next several days. His arms and back are straining particularly from the effort to lift that passenger from the tracks without touching the damn tracks. Is the man still alive?
Christ he shouldn't have just left.
It is what it is, though, and a good eight or nine hours of solid sleep have made it abundantly clear that he needed this.
The soft scratching of the biro draws his attention after a long few minutes, and he tries to look around without-]
Sherlock!
[He shoves himself up and immediately regrets it.]
Mm... Sherlock. What the... what the hell are you doing? Are you five? That's not even our wall.
[Not that Sherlock should be drawing on their walls, but at least Mrs. Hudson is more understanding.]
no subject
Christ he shouldn't have just left.
It is what it is, though, and a good eight or nine hours of solid sleep have made it abundantly clear that he needed this.
The soft scratching of the biro draws his attention after a long few minutes, and he tries to look around without-]
Sherlock!
[He shoves himself up and immediately regrets it.]
Mm... Sherlock. What the... what the hell are you doing? Are you five? That's not even our wall.
[Not that Sherlock should be drawing on their walls, but at least Mrs. Hudson is more understanding.]