“Mmm. The numbers. Not many people on his floor, and he took a distant room.” Sherlock follows her to the door, nodding up the hall towards the staircase.
“Floor nine. Room 221.” A number with meaning. Sherlock is not at al superstitious, and no doubt she’ll sense that, but it’s a number that means home, and there is little enough of that to cling to in this place. It’s a warm number, nostalgic, even if more bitter than sweet just now.
“She hasn’t called them in,” he adds, as reassuringly as he can though he’s not entirely certain how much he believes that. Do they bring it on themselves? If they just tried slightly harder, if he let his defenses down just that much further—
Pointless thoughts. It never worked before, and he never asked for any of it either. “The ghosts, or any of the rest. She didn’t ask, but nobody else did either. They aren’t for her.”
Except perhaps the ones in the mirrors. But there, it seems, there’s a ghost for each of them. That joke has been played on everyone here.
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“Floor nine. Room 221.” A number with meaning. Sherlock is not at al superstitious, and no doubt she’ll sense that, but it’s a number that means home, and there is little enough of that to cling to in this place. It’s a warm number, nostalgic, even if more bitter than sweet just now.
“She hasn’t called them in,” he adds, as reassuringly as he can though he’s not entirely certain how much he believes that. Do they bring it on themselves? If they just tried slightly harder, if he let his defenses down just that much further—
Pointless thoughts. It never worked before, and he never asked for any of it either. “The ghosts, or any of the rest. She didn’t ask, but nobody else did either. They aren’t for her.”
Except perhaps the ones in the mirrors. But there, it seems, there’s a ghost for each of them. That joke has been played on everyone here.