[Sherlock stands on slightly bandy legs, an effect of so much time at sea, and similarly the crowds of the pub part like waves to give him room to reach the door. Once outside, the men he brought along all greeted John with respect-- pirate versions of respect, anyway, such as good natured insults and slaps on the back. Sherlock shoos them off to mind their own business quickly enough.]
So about how long have you been stranded on dry land?
[He looks at John's legs. Straight as beams, though a bit of sea swagger remains out of habit.]
no subject
So about how long have you been stranded on dry land?
[He looks at John's legs. Straight as beams, though a bit of sea swagger remains out of habit.]
Four months, at least.