John fiddled with his phone, rather concerned. RB, whoever the hell that was, had Jim’s phone, and didn’t know how he got it. That could mean a few things, but the possibility with the most weight in his mind was that Jim was in trouble.
He’d told RB to meet him in the coffee shop, and retrieve the phone for the criminal mastermind. The doctor wasn’t sure how the hell he’d find Jim, actually, without his phone. Maybe he would ask Mycroft or something.
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John suppressed a groan. “It’s not like that,” He tried to protest, but Jim didn’t listen. Irene was his friend, and his...
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“Oh great,” Jim said sardonically, rolling his eyes. “Our time is being rationed out by the Dominatrix, hm? Fucking...
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erroetcresco reblogged this from myworldwideweb and added:
John shrugged and gulped a bit more of his own beer, listening to the hum of traffic for a bit. Jim had gone quiet, but...
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