Chapter Text
day 1: paris’s lullaby for autumn
White, dim rays of sunlight shine through soft curtains, barely illuminating the misty room. Dark blue eyes flutter open to the sound of light pitter-patters on his window. It’s drizzling.
Sitting up on his bed of warm covers and cosy pillows, Sherlock stretches out his spine with full force as he awakens from a deep slumber, looking out the sprinkled window to see entrancing clouds envelop him into a hug. He buries himself into the soft fabric of his pyjamas.
The relaxing aura of an idyllic morning. The season of winter graces the lands.
As he regains his senses, he catches a whiff of the earthy scent, brought by the sprinkles of rain meeting the ground, tainting the streets a darker shade. It amalgamates with the smell of freshly cooked food. He feels his stomach rumbling.
It must be his housemate’s doing. The thought of him brings a smile to his lips. He walks up to the window, opening it at full length to allow the refreshing, misty wind to fill up his lungs. Winter greets him by its gentle gushes caressing his face and blowing his long, majestic hair. He hears muffles of a soft voice in the distance, his smile grows larger.
Today is going to be a good day.