I have committed to more than one exchange. Yes, unwise. So my goal is to fill at least one during pico and make significant progress on at least one more. We will see. There may be gnashing of teeth later.
I am still on a Sherlock phase. I have an outline of the story almost done. Despite it not all being captured in written words yet, I have started fleshing out some of the scenes. This may also be unwise. There will be much revising. In this section, Sherlock has found a wrapped package hidden in John's room and is trying to puzzle out its significance. He has already offered one hypothesis which John refuted.
***
John switched on the kettle, got out a carton of eggs. Sherlock was still buttoning his cuffs as he walked into the kitchen.
“Tea?” John asked.
“Afghanistan isn’t known for that kind of cloth,” Sherlock stated.
“No,” John replied, as he held an egg up to the light. “But it’s on the Silk Road.”
“I haven’t done anything to the eggs,” Sherlock said. “Someone there, then,” Sherlock suggested. “Serving with you.”
John lowered the egg. The sun hot on the back of his hand. John squinted from beneath it to survey the make-shift souk at the edge of the base, brilliant with silks, alive with a Babel hum.
no subject
I am still on a Sherlock phase. I have an outline of the story almost done. Despite it not all being captured in written words yet, I have started fleshing out some of the scenes. This may also be unwise. There will be much revising. In this section, Sherlock has found a wrapped package hidden in John's room and is trying to puzzle out its significance. He has already offered one hypothesis which John refuted.
***
John switched on the kettle, got out a carton of eggs. Sherlock was still buttoning his cuffs as he walked into the kitchen.
“Tea?” John asked.
“Afghanistan isn’t known for that kind of cloth,” Sherlock stated.
“No,” John replied, as he held an egg up to the light. “But it’s on the Silk Road.”
“I haven’t done anything to the eggs,” Sherlock said. “Someone there, then,” Sherlock suggested. “Serving with you.”
John lowered the egg. The sun hot on the back of his hand. John squinted from beneath it to survey the make-shift souk at the edge of the base, brilliant with silks, alive with a Babel hum.