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“Look, Sher, I’m flattered, really, but I’ve been late for rotation three days this month already. Where. Are. My. Trousers.”
“Joan, please refrain from shortening my name – especially to that. You know how I feel about contractions of proper nou ¬–” Sherlock looked up from the series of cross sections she was cutting from the rat liver she had procured. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Stared.