Baaaaaaaaaaaaah Humbug

[death_gone_mad]

Morning comes and the sun reveals that out back there is a giant yule goat, made of thin strips of timber and palm leaves. Only in Milliways will you find a yule goat covered in palm leaves gathered from a tropical place, standing in the middle of a snowy environ.

It stares at Milliways. It judges.

Inside, at a table beside a window with a view of Milliways' huge 'backyard' or whatever it is, is one Sarah Black, drinking coffee and watching snow accumulate on the goat. She is dressed warmly and the meltwater around her boots implies she has been outside recently, but probably just to get a closer look at the goat.

Probably.

Comments

[hello_freak]

And only in Milliways would there be one looming figure in a peacoat and scarf standing a few yards away from the yule goat, contemplating. His breath fogs the air, and he doesn't even seem to notice the cold.

Sherlock doesn't smoke any more. He technically hasn't been a smoker for years. That fact alone might explain why he still carries a heavy zippo lighter in the pocket of his peacoat.

It does not explain why he's standing there with said zippo in his ungloved hand.

Flipping it open. And closed. Open. And closed.