Who: Thing One and Thing Two, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, Red Fish and Blue Fish. (The Sherlocks)
What: Good question...
Where: Another good question...
When: January 6th, early.
Warnings: Considering the pair, unnecessary levels of snark and potential future mention/discussion of drug abuse.
Sherlock's birthday opens unpromisingly on
a brief text exchange — besides the coordinates provided, there is little to deduce about the message, and Sherlock for maybe half a heartbeat is deeply worried that his alternate counterpart might have some kind of
mutual celebration planned. However, he discards the thought almost as quickly as it can flit through his mind: surely there cannot be any universe in which a Holmes enjoys his own birthday. The very idea is absurd.
But that being the least likely of scenarios doesn't provide Sherlock with many
actual possibilities. Never one to abandon a good mystery — nor, really, any mystery at this point, months of starvation for anything interesting — Sherlock has no problem pushing John's — their — no,
John's blasted over-friendly cat off of his chest and taking off to the designated location first thing in the morning.
Not a bad way to avoid whatever kind of
birthday breakfast John might have tried to inflict on him, in any case.
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