[ No, it probably wouldn't, and yet John wanted to hear it anyway. It didn't change a thing - what had happened, happened - but neither had letting it eat at him, which he'd done anyway. ]
What is there to -- ?
[ John's pitch jumps with incredulity, anger. His wings unfurl from their tight knot against his back just slightly, feathers inflating a little with annoyance. With his jacket (his armour) shed for the sake of Sherlock's dignity, it's easy to tell what the appendages get up to. Even so, for someone who's known him as long as Sherlock, and for someone who prides themselves on noticing details, everything is in the the way John's shoulders pull back a little.
And how he catches and reigns himself in the next moment, must be biting his lip except it's not clear because he's not looking at Sherlock. There's a pause. ]
You knew it was going to happen, didn't you? You knew Mrs. Hudson wasn't really hurt. How long did you know before that?
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What is there to -- ?
[ John's pitch jumps with incredulity, anger. His wings unfurl from their tight knot against his back just slightly, feathers inflating a little with annoyance. With his jacket (his armour) shed for the sake of Sherlock's dignity, it's easy to tell what the appendages get up to. Even so, for someone who's known him as long as Sherlock, and for someone who prides themselves on noticing details, everything is in the the way John's shoulders pull back a little.
And how he catches and reigns himself in the next moment, must be biting his lip except it's not clear because he's not looking at Sherlock. There's a pause. ]
You knew it was going to happen, didn't you? You knew Mrs. Hudson wasn't really hurt. How long did you know before that?