mazarin221b:

“What is that?”

“Sherlock, how many times have I said to not pick the locks
on the room doors, innkeepers don’t like it and they charge—oh holy Christ,
what is that?” John stops just inside
the door to their room and drops the bags with a thud. “Jesus. Well, that’s
what we get for waiting till the last minute.”

And boy do they get it – the last room at the inn is an
explosion of ecru lace and satin, a massive French Empire bed set in the middle of the
room and at least three feet thick with an obnoxious over-ruffled duvet and
pillows and god knows what else. John’s appalled.

“It looks like someone mugged Cinderella of her dress and
made it into a bed,” he says.

“It’s hideous. It’s an offense,” Sherlock says.

“An offense to what?”

“Anything. Humanity. I’m offended.”

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