[It does mean something, actually. It means more than Sherlock knows how to put into words. At last, there's a shred of Zephyras in his vicinity, as there's a sudden, distinct smell of flowers. Roses, daisies, irises... He ends up slinging his own arm around Naruhodou's shoulder, pulling him closer in a way that's far too forceful and enthusiastic to be a pleasant experience. His raised voice probably isn't helping any, either.]
Mr. Naruhodou! You are absolutely right! What a good friend you are! I'm so proud of you!
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Mr. Naruhodou! You are absolutely right! What a good friend you are! I'm so proud of you!