[ The journal is shut and set aside. The older man rises out of his armchair to cross the flat in silence to the window, which he opens. The fingers of his left hand tap the pack he still holds... before he shifts it and draws one of the pale slivers from the box. After placing it between his lips, he opens an empty hand, palm up, expectant. Lighter, please.
Here's his counter-offer, of a sort. Three months ago and John doesn't think Sherlock would have got it, nor would John have been inclined to do it. Now, though, he thinks the younger man might understand. ]
[2/2]
Here's his counter-offer, of a sort. Three months ago and John doesn't think Sherlock would have got it, nor would John have been inclined to do it. Now, though, he thinks the younger man might understand. ]