„Nieposłuszne dzieci nie przeżywają na ulicy”. Tak powiedział pierwszego dnia Toshimoto-san, kiedy Takeshi stał w jego pokoju po raz pierwszy i Toshimoto-san miał zdecydować, czy Takeshi się nadaje. Oko go jeszcze wtedy trochę bolało, a do tego był głodny, ale stał wyprostowany, żeby wydawać się wyższy niż był naprawdę. Kojima-san powiedział, że jeśli Takeshi ma cokolwiek w głowie, to będzie chciał żeby Toshimoto-san go przyjął. „To ciężka robota, ale przynajmniej nie jes
Wszystkie najgorsze rzeczy w moim życiu zaczynały się tak samo, ktoś szedł do pokoju na drugim piętrze domu, który to pokój w ciągu wielu lat przekształcony został w składzik na rzeczy aktualnie nieużywane. Kiedy widziałem kogoś idącego znanym mi już krokiem - zawsze szli tak samo, powoli, z trudem wspinając się po dwóch kondygnacjach drewnianych schodów, opierając się ciężko na wyślizganej poręczy - skradałem się za nim; i babcia i dziadek niedosłyszeli, więc zazwyczaj mnie nie zauważali, bądź
„Have you seen him?” Donovan leaned to her colleague. „Who is this man?”
„Some junky.” Anderson shrugged taking a sip of his coffee and peeping into Sally's cleavage.
She observed the man for a moment and slowly shook her head.
„No... He's been standing there for almost an hour. I'm telling you, it's something.”
They were observing a tall young man, a student probably, standing outside the Yard and waiting in an old jacket; he was pale and very skinny, his face looked almost demonic with the high, sharp cheekbones. He was waiting there, watching the main entrance.
“Oh come on, Donovan,
Sherlock stopped with the phone in his hand, looking at Lestrade. The Inspector was sitting in the armchair with a glass of whisky in his hand.
“Lestrade,” The man raised his head, “Leave it, I need your help.”
“What do you want? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow?”
“You are drunk? Again? This has to stop.”
”Don't concern yourself with things you don't understand, pretty boy. Why do you even care?”
”Because I love you, you stupid bastard.”
Lestrade scoffed but drowned his next comment in the glass. He was pissed off, yes, and he had a really bad day, his boss was a blood
John used to wake up as he was taught in the army.
Back then, when he lived alone, he heard the alarm; he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for some time, immersed in silence. He would toy with the thought of staying in bed a bit longer, fooling himself that he had plans for the day that he could put aside.
Back then he always woke up to an empty room and spent his day wondering why he did get up from the bed when there was nothing waiting for him outside. And his life was miserable.
Now when he was waking up he could occasionally lie down, wondering why the flat was so silent. Did Sherlock go out? Or was occupied with some experim
Sherlock was standing in front of Lestrade, blushing. Lestrade blinked in surprise, Sherlock was actually blushing! They stood motionless – Sherlock in the bedroom, Gregory in livingroom – and stared at each other; Holmes was frozen to the spot with his shirt undone. His skin was pale with blue veins visible underneath, his cheeks pink under Greg's gaze. The DI stood with his hand still on the handle and finally dropped his head.
“Sorry,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn't mean to.”
Sherlock blinked but started to button the shirt up. “I thought you were out at work already,&rdquo
Sherlock was playing with a piece of a cake on his plate with an annoyed frown. He was not hungry, he was not enjoying Lestrade's presence, he only wanted to be alone. And the worst part was that Lestrade was sitting next to him and was just watching him most of the time .
“Stop looking at me, it's annoying.” He complained childishly. “I'm eating, what else do you want?”
“Sherlock, I don't want to hurt you. It's for your best.” Inspector was honestly sad but Sherlock did not care.
Mycroft dropped him at Lestrade's place earlier that morning, leaving him with one suitcase and a promise that if Sherlock tri
The flat was oddly quiet. The door opened when Greg pushed them lightly. He walked into the room and looked around. Nothing. The messy living room was empty so he entered Sherlock's bedroom – only to find him sitting on the mattress with his hands raised to his mouth. Finger tips caressed his lips lightly when he was looking at the ceiling with a quiet interest.
Gregory came closer to him not even getting a look from the younger man. He knelt beside him finally catching his attention.
“I was bored” Sherlock said, his voice lazy, higher than normal. “And now I'm not. I've done something nice for myself. You always sai