[ Action | Closed ]
[ Sherlock Holmes does a good many things upon a whim. Including breaking into apartments at feeble hours of the bleeding morning.
Of course, if it weren't so atrociously simple to do, he might not have bothered.
After he's in, curiosity does urge him to go and look first at the dark-haired man asleep in one of the bedroom's two cots. The flashlight pans over the scruff-bound figure. Sherlock can tell he's a habitual runner as well as a drinker. His grooming is obviously something to be desired. This is the defense attorney? He can believe it, but the man must be comfortable with being out of practice in such a state.
He moves over to the other cot.
There's a tap of black leather across the arch of a pale cheek, and fluorescent light warming the back of the former prosecutor's neck. Sherlock has dug one of his gloves out of his pockets while keeping the flashlight tucked under an arm. ]