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Summary
“Are we going to do something?” Mariana asked, one eyebrow raised.
Across the sidewalk where a body had lain mere hours before, Sherlock paced, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. It was not, however, his face that caused concern, but his thighs tightly pressed together and his hands wringing at his sides as he intently paced.
“About the fact that Sherlock clearly needs the toilet?”