A former surgeon and Medical Officer in The Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. A mundane doctor now. (RP)
London, 221B Baker St.
Joined April 2014
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*Goes to turn on the telly. It sputters with static for a moment before dying with a soft, wilted cry. She hangs her head, smushing the remote against her forehead.
Muttered:*
I swear to /God/.
//Awwww! Hello there!! And me, too! I really do want to bring her back and clean her up a bit (a lot).
At what hour is it acceptable to smoke in the flat?
Because Sherlock thinks every goddamn hour is fine and dandy.
Don't eat it. xitter.gq/SocioIntellect/status/…
Steam for a glass. Handle for a spatula. What is it for a spoon?
These are the true questions on the minds of Britians.
I have a fancy tea spoon, mind you. It's quite remarkable. The design on the handle -- or do they call it a stem? -- is quite neat.
Breaking stereotypes, we are. Kudos to us women. We truly are revolutionary.
*Takes a sip of her tea and spits it out.*
Fuckin' hot!
Those two are like school children.
Well, except that Irene'd be the one to pull Sherlock's hair and chase him around the yard.
*From the sanctuary of the kitchen, Joan hears an "erotic" moan text alert from @SocioIntellect in the living and nearly drops her teacup.*
Sherlock claims that astrology is the study of idiocy.
Mary says it's "heavenly".
I am truly between a rock and a hard place.
"Sometimes I like to imagine how the world must seem to Sherlock...
Then I just turn off the My Little Ponies and -- oh, shite joke."