[He sighs, resigning himself to sitting up and reassuring Holmes the elder.]
It happens, Mycroft. There's probably nothing there. Just- wait, did you say eggs?
[It's so absurdly specific all he can think of is Davesprite's obsession. Blinking owlishly, John sets down the umbrella and reaches for his tablet. He checks his visible skin for signs of anything, but as with Mycroft, there's nothing.]
no subject
It happens, Mycroft. There's probably nothing there. Just- wait, did you say eggs?
[It's so absurdly specific all he can think of is Davesprite's obsession. Blinking owlishly, John sets down the umbrella and reaches for his tablet. He checks his visible skin for signs of anything, but as with Mycroft, there's nothing.]
What kinds of eggs? Like spider eggs?