He sipped his long-cold tea before dropping his cigarette into the chipped, mint-green cup. It extinguished with a hiss. Sherlock blew on the ink to dry it and then folded the letter, stuffing it into an envelope. He composed a P.S. in his head.
You wouldn’t be proud of me. I steal morphine from people who need it.
Atonement Crossover - John/Sherlock - NC-17 - This part R
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- teawitherin said: Spellbinding, as usual
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- duod said: It’s good, as usual. I’m afraid I know how it’ll end for poor John and Sherlock, but am also very excited what subtle differences you will add to next chapters.
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