Tuesday morning.
Sherlock, who had only just woken up, was curled up in the rocking chair he used as a bed. Wrapped in a wool coat, he leisurely ate the sandwich Edward had brought him.
Sherlock had somewhat low blood sugar. If he did not immediately eat something or drink some sugar water or honey water after waking, his brain could not start working.
It might have been a congenital condition, or perhaps he simply disliked eating.
If Edward had not brought him breakfast, he probably would have just made do with some honey water today.
"You'll get a stomach problem sooner or later if you keep this up, Hermes."
Edward sat in the chair beside Sherlock's desk and spoke in a low voice.
He was holding an identical sandwich. The soft white bread was filled with beef, onions, cheese, lettuce, and a generous amount of cheese sauce.
It was a portable breakfast Edward had instructed the cook at home to prepare in advance the night before.
Because he knew that Sherlock definitely would not eat breakfast if he had the choice.
Although having sandwiches for breakfast seemed rather shabby for the Moriarty Family, if the food were prepared more lavishly and elaborately, Sherlock probably would not feel like eating it.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and said lazily, "I usually try to keep myself in a state of hunger. That way, my brain can work more actively."
"Are you practicing asceticism?"
"Asceticism? No, no..."
Sherlock chuckled and raised his head with interest. "How did you get the impression that I'm like a monk, tormenting myself in pursuit of wisdom?"
"Isn't that what you're doing?" Edward countered.
"Of course not," Sherlock replied. "If you care too much about something, you can easily become trapped by its forms and commandments. That defeats