Now I can go to write my Charik fanfiction since I watched trailer to DOTFP!
Out of the closetWszystkie najgorsze rzeczy w moim życiu zaczynały się tak samo, ktoś szedł do pokoju na drugim piętrze domu, który to pokój w ciągu wielu lat przekształcony został w składzik na rzeczy aktualnie nieużywane. Kiedy widziałem kogoś idącego znanym mi już krokiem - zawsze szli tak samo, powoli, z trudem wspinając się po dwóch kondygnacjach drewnianych schodów, opierając się ciężko na wyślizganej poręczy - skradałem się za nim; i babcia i dziadek niedosłyszeli, więc zazwyczaj mnie nie zauważali, bądź też byli zajęcy ważniejszymi rzeczami niż podążającymi za nimi wnuczek. Wchodzili do pokoju-składziku, odwiedzanego przeze mnie w prawie każdy nudny deszczowy dzień, kiedy babcia oglądała jeden ze swoich seriali i tym samym nie pozwalała mi oglądać bajek. Znałem ten pokOut of the closet by ~nikaanuk
A glimpse of nothing.„Have you seen him?” Donovan leaned to her colleague. „Who is this man?”A glimpse of nothing. by ~nikaanuk
„Some junky.” Anderson shrugged taking a sip of his coffee and peeping into Sally's cleavage.
She observed the man for a moment and slowly shook her head.
„No... He's been standing there for almost an hour. I'm telling you, it's something.”
They were observing a tall young man, a student probably, standing outside the Yard and waiting in an old jacket; he was pale and very skinny, his face looked almost demonic with the high, sharp cheekbones. He was waiting there, watching the main entrance.
“Oh come on, Donovan, the break is almost over and I wanted to buy one more coffee.”
“Wait. Look.” She nodded towards the window. He came closer to her and looked outside.
Lestrade came out and walked to the man. They were talking for a moment.
“Does Lestrade know him?” Anderson wondered.
“Yes...” Sally smiled a little. “They
Dark Greg's DaysSherlock stopped with the phone in his hand, looking at Lestrade. The Inspector was sitting in the armchair with a glass of whisky in his hand.Dark Greg's Days by ~nikaanuk
“Lestrade,” The man raised his head, “Leave it, I need your help.”
“What do you want? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow?”
“You are drunk? Again? This has to stop.”
”Don't concern yourself with things you don't understand, pretty boy. Why do you even care?”
”Because I love you, you stupid bastard.”
Lestrade scoffed but drowned his next comment in the glass. He was pissed off, yes, and he had a really bad day, his boss was a bloody prick and he could not solve the bloody case, but none of those were a reason for him to say mean things to Sherlock. Especially when he only wanted to help. Greg owed him at least this - decency and patience. He sighed. That was his bloody problem too - he bloody cared for people.
“Lestrade,” Holmes walked near to him and took the glass