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    Summary

    Greg is scheduled to speak at a police conference in Manchester. Sherlock complicates things, as usual

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  2. 16 Jun 2019

    Rec

  3. 25 Mar 2019

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  4. 18 Feb 2019

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  5. 23 Jul 2018

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  6. 06 May 2018

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  7. 02 May 2018

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  8. 23 Apr 2018

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  9. 14 Jan 2018

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  10. 12 Jan 2018

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    Bookmark Notes:

    Then he heard a sound that sent a splinter of ice straight down his spine. A ringing burst of laughter: Sherlock’s laugh. No, not Sherlock’s actual laugh, not the dry sarcastic chuckle or the surprised bark of genuine amusement. But it was a sound he’d heard Sherlock make before, when he was impersonating someone or other, a ridiculous sort of high-pitched whinny. Surely, he told himself, surely he was being paranoid. He’d been thinking about Sherlock far too much on the trip up, so his mind was now latching onto vague resemblances--any number of people in the world might have a similar-sounding laugh. But he edged in closer to the source of the sound just the same, looking round carefully, just in case.
    Buggering fuck. It was him. He was there, tall in the midst of a laughing group, hair slicked down and parted, wearing a shabby, ill-fitting suit Greg had never seen before. What on Earth? He edged closer to the knot of people, circling round behind Sherlock's back, hoping to overhear their conversation. He was still having trouble believing his eyes.
    “...and he was still wearing it when we went round to arrest him,” Sherlock was saying, in a nasal accent not his own. “But that’s not the worst of it--it was the only thing he had on. There’s an image I’ll never be rid of.” The fellows around him chuckled appreciatively, and one of them launched into their own stupid-crims-I-have-taken-in story.

  11. 02 Mar 2017

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  12. 10 Jan 2017

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  13. 28 Jul 2016

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  14. 13 May 2016

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  15. 27 Aug 2015

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  16. 08 Aug 2015

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  17. 17 Jul 2015

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  18. 22 May 2015

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  19. 27 Jan 2015

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  20. 15 Aug 2014

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  21. 28 Feb 2014

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