INVESTIGATIONS
"WATSON!"
Joan groaned as the bright light flooded the relative safety of her canopy bed. She rolled over, one arm shielding her eyes, but she knew the gesture was useless. She’d long stopped trying to figure out if Sherlock was sneaking his way in or just solving the riddles the Ravenclaw doorknocker came up with - either option was equally plausible.
"Watson hurry! Here are your clothes!" She glared at Sherlock with as much ire as she could muster in her sleep-addled state as he dumped her clothes - and Clyde - on her bed.
"Come on then! Get dressed! Rubella Weasley’s bookbag has gone missing and I promised we’d find it."
"Sherlock, if you think I’m getting dressed with you in here…"
"Oh, of course. My apologies." Sherlock spun on his heels, but made no move to actually leave the enclosure of the drapery. With another long-suffering sigh Joan sat up and shrugged. The quicker she was dressed, the quicker they’d be out and about, and the quicker he’d stop driving her batty.