Sherlock knows the intention, and he almost wants to press on out of spite for it. Still... he knows he's tired.
He steps forward toward the tree, wavering as he goes. Carefully, he knelt in the grass and pressed his back against the tree. His eyes closed briefly while he let the world stop spinning. Not that he'd admit he was unsteady.]
Bicycles.
For everything this place has... How does it not have cabs?
[Even after all the trouble cabs had caused him, he still wanted one.]
no subject
Sherlock knows the intention, and he almost wants to press on out of spite for it. Still... he knows he's tired.
He steps forward toward the tree, wavering as he goes. Carefully, he knelt in the grass and pressed his back against the tree. His eyes closed briefly while he let the world stop spinning. Not that he'd admit he was unsteady.]
Bicycles.
For everything this place has... How does it not have cabs?
[Even after all the trouble cabs had caused him, he still wanted one.]