Sherlock stopped in his tracks, pressing his temples with a hint of a headache.
Aiwass, walking ahead of him, immediately sensed something was wrong. He also stopped and turned around, "Are you all right, Sherlock?"
"I'm fine."
Sherlock's voice was cold, "I think it's because this body is too short... The same distance, you can walk quickly and I have to jog to keep up. It's tiring... it feels like the veins in my forehead are throbbing."
Upon hearing this, Aiwass chuckled.
But he didn't offer any sympathetic words like "then I'll slow down," instead, he casually said, "You might be thirsty. After all, we haven't drunk much this afternoon."
With that, he took out a water flask from his chest and threw it to Sherlock.
Dressed as a newsboy, Sherlock unceremoniously tipped the flask to his mouth.
Then he sprayed it out.
"...Are you sick!"
