My Dearest Sherlock
A long-form RP by two authors, @Alexthetransboy21 writing as the beloved Dr. John Watson as he puts his medical skills-and perhaps crime-fighting ones as well-to good use as he longs to return home to his flatmate and partner-in...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dear John,
Did you get my message from the Royal Mail? While writing this I haven't actually sent it yet, but I suspect this will arrive a few days after. "Special Delivery" is funny that way, nearly as fast as fax, if only they bothered to stir from their Royal Money-Laundered cushions for every scrap of bank slapped with enough stamps. Those men posses the same natural affinity for spend as Mycroft (Ooohh,bad boy!) does for the weight room. Ever the pragmatic priss, (language!), he has "issued a final warning" against my "ridiculous flamboyance leading into the most mundane of tasks."
Speaking of mundane, I have opted to e-mail you Leo's train pictures; the files are zipped and I suspect it would not garner further grace from Mycroft to have them printed and shipped with "Second Class, Priority Elizabethan" status.
I am quite disappointed to hear of your delayed—oh, that is, you are likely to be delayed in your trip home, as I have reason to believe that your plane ride back to the UK will be grounded over Canada— a "person of interest to the CIA will be on board and has slipped in her disguises because of the failure of her most recent business emdeavor. I've taken the liberty of re-scheduling your return flight. (Hopefully you've shipped the body parts seperately.)
Furthermore, when you get back to Baker Street, I believe I will have to lock us together in my bedroom (oooo...) of the flat for several days. It is part of an experiment. Please bring enough food and water, shampoo and of course hand lotion just in case the weather gets dry. It's become awfully dry actually, you'd best bring lots.
Now, I must arrest my sentiment, as it has seriously hampered my ability to think. (Naughty boy... just like I tought him!)Not that it matters much—between Lestrade, Molly. even the H.N, all—everything is dry. Not even much contribution from Mrs. Hudson. It's been a gloomy, rainy sort of week.
Come home safe.
Yours, Sherlock Holmes
Shameless... needs some punishment. Call me if you need help help, John.
