“Chloe? Are you seriously throwing up again?”

James’s voice echoed from the bathroom doorway as he leaned against the frame, his brows furrowed.

Chloe sat hunched over the toilet, glaring up at him with watery eyes.

“Do you mind? Privacy James. I'm bonding with porcelain right now.”

James smirked, folding his arms. “That's three mornings in a row. You sure it's not food poisoning?”

Chloe wiped her mouth with a towel and scowled.

“No, Sherlock. I didn't eat anything ...