Eleven
Grandmother’s old clock ticked loudly as I sat opposite of the two men, caught in another awkward silence. The coffee’s smell circled up, the toasty and roasted notes delicious and mouthwatering.
If there was one advantage to a blood slave, it was that she made pretty decent coffee. Whether that was a good enough reason to have one in the first place… I wasn’t too convinced of that.
“So… What did you discover?” William asked, a lot stiffer than the last time I saw him. He didn’t seem very warm towards Watt either, despite them claiming they were friends.
I pulled the odd wedding dress from the bag, the red lace a stark contrast to the virginal white. “When I put my hands in the pockets, I found a note.”
“What’s on it?” Watson asked, leaning forward from the old chair. I didn’t
