Only a little writing, but some more thinking about how things will, hopefully, tie together.
***
John shut the front door quickly. “That was a very good decoy job Mrs Hudson just did.”
“Yes. That feather-on-a-string thing was an astute purchase on her part,” Sherlock replied. “Gray might have been an asset if we were looking to engage people seated outside in conversation, but tonight it’s listening we need to do and inside the pub is where we need to do it.”
“Pity they won’t have any food this late. I’m starving again,” John said. “It was so busy at the surgery, I forgot about lunch until it was nearly time to go home.”
They eased past the crowd of smokers on the pavement. Sherlock swept his glance over each one as he held the door open for John. “I’ll order olives,” Sherlock said.
Productive thinking is so important but much more difficult to quantify than words. Kudos. I'm still enjoying your Sherlock characterisation here very much.
I usually take a printout of my latest few pages to bed with a pen, so I can jot anything down if inspiration strikes. I've got a little low-intensity bedside light that isn't too wakeful too.
Ah, the feather on a string, more new things for Sherlock to learn! Though you'd think he'd know by now that olives don't really take the edge off. I like the way your snippets have so much life, there's always something going on in the background.
I was thinking they could go have Chinese after the pub at that nearby place that stays open until 2 am, but they may need to follow someone. I'm not sure yet!
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***
John shut the front door quickly. “That was a very good decoy job Mrs Hudson just did.”
“Yes. That feather-on-a-string thing was an astute purchase on her part,” Sherlock replied. “Gray might have been an asset if we were looking to engage people seated outside in conversation, but tonight it’s listening we need to do and inside the pub is where we need to do it.”
“Pity they won’t have any food this late. I’m starving again,” John said. “It was so busy at the surgery, I forgot about lunch until it was nearly time to go home.”
They eased past the crowd of smokers on the pavement. Sherlock swept his glance over each one as he held the door open for John. “I’ll order olives,” Sherlock said.
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