Well, of course I climbed atop the slab and I lay down on it
I am having a relatively miserable night, so I have been talking to
spatch about various things, including Sherlock Holmes, as one does, and I mentioned the perennial post that goes around about modern AU Holmes and how people are always trying to work out an equivalent for the cocaine habit where the key features are not merely a form of self-medication of which Watson disapproves but also a drug practice popularly considered physically and mentally beneficial and without missing a beat Rob immediately said, "Microdosing." And I hadn't seen that one in the wild yet, so I mention it here.
(In the interests of honesty, he wishes me to add that his first, semi-serious suggestion was kombucha: "It's trendy and people claim it's got super-ass benefits." I have zero difficulty picturing Holmes fermenting his own kombucha, with particular attention to cultivating his own distinctive strains of yeast and bacteria and explaining them to visitors and possibly not warning Watson sufficiently about how much the flat is going to smell like a combination laboratory-brewery, which is in fact what it now is. I don't believe the terrarium in which the vials of E. coli coexisted with the plates of Dictyostelium discoideum to which I fed them ever did cease to smell faintly like hundred-year-old gym socks. I feel nostalgic about it to this day. My parents, considerably less so.)
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(In the interests of honesty, he wishes me to add that his first, semi-serious suggestion was kombucha: "It's trendy and people claim it's got super-ass benefits." I have zero difficulty picturing Holmes fermenting his own kombucha, with particular attention to cultivating his own distinctive strains of yeast and bacteria and explaining them to visitors and possibly not warning Watson sufficiently about how much the flat is going to smell like a combination laboratory-brewery, which is in fact what it now is. I don't believe the terrarium in which the vials of E. coli coexisted with the plates of Dictyostelium discoideum to which I fed them ever did cease to smell faintly like hundred-year-old gym socks. I feel nostalgic about it to this day. My parents, considerably less so.)