It was a comfortable single bedroom flat. John had remolded it from a cramped two bedroom one to what it was now. He led him over to the kitchen. On the side table they passed was an unusual bloom. Black as the night sky with red tips. It was not of this earth.

John didn't know how much Sherlock knew about the gods that walked among them. But he wasn't going to bring it up.

"That's fine, there is still a bit to go on the lamb." He produced a wine opener and offered it to Sherlock.