"I'm wasting my breath"


Sometimes he just wonders if there was anything between them at all. In these moments, he hates himself the most for the thought that the only things they shared were two rooms and London's pale, star-studded sky. It's like a disease eating him up inside. He could beg on his knees if only that would change anything.


the difference between today and the 1960s? we have computers now


The faces and the strut of John H. Watson

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