Wings-for-Dreams~ Eyes like the sea after a stormMore Like This
John had just sat down with a cup of tea when there was knock on their door. He opened it to a very disgruntled man holding a file.
“Where is he?”
“I’m sorry, who are you looking for?”
“Sorry, my name is John Watson. There is no Harrison at this address.” The man yanked something out of the folder. It was a photograph.
“Then who is this?” John had to use every muscle in his face to prevent his jaw from dropping. The man in the photo was Sherlock! He was kneeling down, legs folded gracefully under him. John could just see a pair of red pants peeking out from under a lavender button, hanging off one of Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock looked a few years younger, his face more open and vulnerable. He had one hand wrapped around his arm, holding the shoulder of the shirt, as if to prevent it from sliding down any further. His back curved delicately, his head tilted slightly, every little detail about She