paradisa | ғᴏᴜʀ

( the flat of COOL, DUN DUN DUUUUN )

[ Breakfast. Most important meal of the day and all that. John's sitting at the table in the sitting room with a piece of toast and what could probably pass as the morning paper (or the closet equivalent he could find in this place). Interesting stuff. Well, not exactly, but that isn't the point. ]

Did you get it back yet? [ Sherlock is around. He's pretty sure he is. Somewhere. So he just calls out as he reads up about some sort of town drama, hoping the detective hears. ] The housecoat, I mean.
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[ A few hours later John slips into the clinic, journal in hand. Slow day, he hopes, wouldn't like to see anyone come in after having jumped off a building and slipped, breaking their ankle or something like that.

He sets himself up nearby the front door, flicking briefly through the journal. Hm. ]

The castle doesn't do that sort of thing all of the time does it? Locking people in rooms with tacky decorations? [ It was such a lovely reminder of how painfully single he is right now. :| ]

(ooc; LALA open for journal and in person shenanigans.)