I’m working on the final chapter of my selkie fic:
John got up and moved to Sherlock. The selkie ran a hand through his hair as if counting the grays. John kissed him. “I’m not twenty-four anymore.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-two.”
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I’m working on the final chapter of my selkie fic:
John got up and moved to Sherlock. The selkie ran a hand through his hair as if counting the grays. John kissed him. “I’m not twenty-four anymore.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-two.”