Sherlock smirked, extending two fingers at the misty apparition of a smallish man in a Westwood suit, and rolled over to kiss John lingeringly. The ghostly echo of a frustrated snarl dissipated after a few minutes, along with the faint smell of old blood, gunpowder, and ‘Italian Cypress for men’ by Tom Ford. Genius needs an audience, after all… [2 of 2 – Based off one of your recent posts with hilarious ghost!Jim art]