XXXIV: There and Back Again (Again)

She finished whatever writing she was doing at the flat, and we celebrated with doughnuts.

And a show . . .

(No, John, I'm telling you: Mycroft would never tread the boards, even under heavy makeup.)

We ended our stay in London with a Tarot reading. For her, mind, not us, though she dragged us along anyway.

This is me rolling my eyes while we wait.

And the next day we flew back for one night in Boston . . . Where there was pie.

(Fine, John, it was chocolate mousse cake. As if I ever cared about food.)

And then, back to:

The city we now call home.

And so today we are . . .

(I only let her wear the "Genius" shirt because it's too big for me.)