"I'm not," he says sternly. "This is why Mycroft insists he should pay for my bills or why he bribes you to spy on me. I prefer debts that can be collected in other ways."

Hunger was unnecessary. Ignorable. It slowed him down. He simply pulled out a small vial of blue liquid collected from the gravity pouch. He holds it up, to reflect against the light. Tilts it, to observe the way it moves. It's thickness, it's consistency. He needed to find a lab on this ship.

"Oh nothing. Dull. Spent day texting, wandering around, discovering we were works of fiction, mostly texting. You on the other hand have started a little practice, Doctor Watson. How, civil spirited of you,"