Not that Sherlock knows this, it could be the middle of the afternoon for all he knows. No, must be night, it's dark outside what small amount of grubby window he can see. He's annoyed that Mycroft is already being dismissive, but playing back his own words-- Ah. Well. That could be a problem.]
[It's humiliating to have to pause after each word and deliberately enunciate the next to make certain that he's understood, but needs must. He's at least intelligible this time, though his words are slurred.]
no subject
Not that Sherlock knows this, it could be the middle of the afternoon for all he knows. No, must be night, it's dark outside what small amount of grubby window he can see. He's annoyed that Mycroft is already being dismissive, but playing back his own words-- Ah. Well. That could be a problem.]
Seventeen. [Pause.] Mellar. [Pause.] Street. [Pause.] Come. [Pause.] Now.
[It's humiliating to have to pause after each word and deliberately enunciate the next to make certain that he's understood, but needs must. He's at least intelligible this time, though his words are slurred.]