[ The front door to 2-21 opens, giving way to the sounds of rainfall and a flapping of vinyl. John hangs half out of the door, his right arm extending a few bags into the relative warmth (it's still quite damp) of the flat while his left irritably shakes the water free of his umbrella. There's a soft mutter of curses under the former soldier's breath, likely pertaining to the ill weather and the fact he's been walking far too long in it.
In the end, John just leaves the umbrella out in the hall and turns, shutting the door behind him. It's only then that he notices that there's a plus one in the living room behind the gray shape of his groggy flatmate's wings. John pauses and straightens, very likely realizing how he must look with rain still clinging to his hair and darkening the turn ups on his jeans. ]
Hello.
[ Young (pretty) woman, appearing to be playing with Sherlock's wings. Not yanking out his feathers, or maybe she was about to before John came in?
The doctor smiles at the visitor on reflex, though his eyes soon shift to Sherlock with what the detective may recognize as expectance (if he's looking at all). Because there are two teacups in John's periphery. What the hell is going on? ]
[action]
In the end, John just leaves the umbrella out in the hall and turns, shutting the door behind him. It's only then that he notices that there's a plus one in the living room behind the gray shape of his groggy flatmate's wings. John pauses and straightens, very likely realizing how he must look with rain still clinging to his hair and darkening the turn ups on his jeans. ]
Hello.
[ Young (pretty) woman, appearing to be playing with Sherlock's wings. Not yanking out his feathers, or maybe she was about to before John came in?
The doctor smiles at the visitor on reflex, though his eyes soon shift to Sherlock with what the detective may recognize as expectance (if he's looking at all). Because there are two teacups in John's periphery. What the hell is going on? ]