John’s lost his horse. His big black warhorse, who followed him through so many battles and fought at John’s side; he’s drowned in the swamp, and John has nowhere to go. He can’t be a soldier without a horse. He shuffles through the dusty city in his long brown coat, and asks for work from the men holding wheels on the street corners.
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Morning reblog!
BBC Sherlock fic: Barrow Wight chapter 3