After a particularly adrenaline fueled chase, Sherlock texts Lestrade detailed instructions where to find the murderous clown assassin. John is so aroused that he can’t hardly wait to get his and Sherlock’s clothes off….
Robbie collapsed into his armchair with an exhausted huff. His latest scheme to make the little brats he babysat hate him and demand their parents found someone else to look after them in the evenings had, as usual, backfired, and instead the kids had gone home that evening excitedly shouting to their parents about the latest game their super cool and wonderful babysitter had played with them.
There’s a dumpster in our driveway so it’s official. We are moving. We’ll be cleaning out the garage today as soon as it stops raining. Getting rid of stuff we haven’t used in years, stuff I collected for whatever reason and how have decided I don’t need. Just accumulated junk. It’s amazing what you accumulate without realizing you’re doing it.
For now, while it rains, I’m working on the inside of the house. Getting it ready to have strangers come in and judge me.
I was in denial before this. But that dumpster being there makes it real. We are doing this. Goodbye to this house, this block, this neighborhood. Goodbye to stuff in the garage. Goodbye to weird neighbors and pigeons on my roof.