“Buggered if I know,” comes Sherlock's easy response, though his thoughts are far less mild. Far less. The implications are...
Good. Better than good. And he can't smile, not right now, can't let it go all crooked and delighted and more-than-fond, because he is, oh yes, more than. Can't help it. Can't for a moment, hates himself a bit for it, but how was he meant to know? How was he meant to anticipate this, cut loose before getting too deep?
He suspects too deep was the train car, was the start, like all of this is inevitable. Which is... nonsense, utter nonsense, but maybe...
No. No, and that's quite alright. Thinking that they got here in spite of everything is so much better.
“It's... well, it's still pretty fun to soak a classroom on one's own, I have to admit, but this is... better.” Incomparable.
no subject
Good. Better than good. And he can't smile, not right now, can't let it go all crooked and delighted and more-than-fond, because he is, oh yes, more than. Can't help it. Can't for a moment, hates himself a bit for it, but how was he meant to know? How was he meant to anticipate this, cut loose before getting too deep?
He suspects too deep was the train car, was the start, like all of this is inevitable. Which is... nonsense, utter nonsense, but maybe...
No. No, and that's quite alright. Thinking that they got here in spite of everything is so much better.
“It's... well, it's still pretty fun to soak a classroom on one's own, I have to admit, but this is... better.” Incomparable.