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⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ❛ I thought you'd 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 ask. ❜
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𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐇. 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐌.𝐃. ╱ ex-army surgeon, current adventure chronicler. decent man, but an even better shot. loyal to a fault.
// Watson: I like eating balanced meals and going to the gym :)
The love of his life: I'm going to eat poison and dominate the bare-knuckle boxing underground fight club :)
I know he curses himself every night for his questionable taste in men
It has been relatively peaceful, all things considered.
Perhaps a little too peaceful at the flat. He hasn’t seen or heard from Holmes, nor the B.S.C. in days.
A recent flare-up of an old rugby injury hasn’t stopped the doctor from continuing his hobby on the weekend. But he knows that he will have to work on building muscle in the area to support his body. The odd visit to the gym will now have to turn into a regular endeavour.
“Don’t tell me that’s an actual bruise on your forehead, Holmes, or I’ll be rather upset.”
Watson said with a small huff, an expression of effort at the exertion of lifting up their fluffy little (big) intruder.
The B.S.C. let out a small whine that could only be compared —
Holmes, already sat at his dressing table, robe sleeves folded up to the elbow, casts a pleased, sidelong glance at Watson.
"Come in, doctor. And don't forget your accomplice."
Meaning the fat cat, obviously.
A large, steaming bowl of water already waits atop the table, -
@sinceregenius The good doctor, too caught up in his impromptu mock-physiotherapy session, missed the fond way in which his roommate looked at him.
“Can’t interrupt what hasn’t begun for the day.” He said cheekily. “But, if you want me out of your hair, Holmes, you can just say it.”