ItssStupidHoe

Sherlock slowly stirred his tea, watching the cream swirl before melting into the blackness and diluting it to a sullen brown. He liked these moments. They helped him forget about everything. About Moriarty, about Lestrade, about Ms Hudson, about….John. These moments where relaxing. They were….simple. His face contorted in disgust as the cup contents splashed against his taste. Must be doing well, he thought, they're confident enough to rip their customers off with this tripe. Normally Sherlock would insist on making a scene, berating the girl behind the counter till he felt his grievance settled but since Moriarty, he needed to ke