[hotel verse]

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

It works a lot like last time. He wakes up, still in his suit and tie, with his arm slipped around Jim's waist. The way the used to when they were in school.

The thought occurs to him, the crash of old ideas and new, schoolboy adoration and rooftop loathing.

He draws in a quick breath and stays purposefully, staring down at Moriarty in confusion, taking slow stock of how close they're entwined.