Dr. John H. Watson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theblogger) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trainingwings2012-01-13 12:49 am
theblogger) wrote in trainingwings2012-01-13 12:49 am
Entry tags:
[ Voice ]/[ Action ]
Alright. For future reference, talking animals should be a topic addressed when dealing with new-comers. Less important one, yeah, but still worth an honorable mention, I think.
[ A shift here to a musing tone, but anyone who understands the concept of sarcasm is in for a treat. ]
Kidnapped by unseen, malevolent forces, trapped to live in a village in the middle of nowhere with no means of escape, vulnerable to torture, don't fuss with the wings, everything's free... Talking animals.
I just had a squirrel panhandle me for crisps.
Are there any other things I should be prepared to converse with? Are the appliances keeping tabs on what we're getting up to?
-----------------------------------------
Player Name: Effy
Are you new?: Yes! Please love me ;;
Character Name: John Watson
Character Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
[ A shift here to a musing tone, but anyone who understands the concept of sarcasm is in for a treat. ]
Kidnapped by unseen, malevolent forces, trapped to live in a village in the middle of nowhere with no means of escape, vulnerable to torture, don't fuss with the wings, everything's free... Talking animals.
I just had a squirrel panhandle me for crisps.
Are there any other things I should be prepared to converse with? Are the appliances keeping tabs on what we're getting up to?
-----------------------------------------
Player Name: Effy
Are you new?: Yes! Please love me ;;
Character Name: John Watson
Character Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
[ written ] [ locked 80% ]
Go back to the flat. Now.
[ written ] [ locked 80% ]
with
out
you
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[ action ]
Sherlock is on his feet, swiping up his journal and striding toward the door of the coffee shop. Reaching it... He's face-to-face with John.
See that look? Absolute annoyance. Bordering on anger. ...With a tiny bit of a lot of worry tucked away behind it all.]
[ action ]
There's a silent expectation here, although John delves into a pocket of his jacket, producing a small box. E string. He offers it to the other without a word. He seems... ready, somehow. ]
[ action ]
[Quiet, calm, eyes steady. But there's a twitch to his lips, and a tension in his hand as he puts his hand under the small box.]
[ action ]
When you're ready.
[ action ]
[Bargaining.
And, knowing Sherlock Holmes, "two hours" can become "twelve hours" without him even meaning for it to.]
[ action ]
[ And yet he's not leaving, Sherlock. It's quite clear he's intending to stay. He did walk all this way, after all. ]
[ action ]
Then, quietly, with that same attempt at force that he really should know won't work on an Army man:]
Go home, John.
[ action ]
He will definitely not do anything if we're both here, Sherlock. That would be stupendously idiotic. Your intention was to threaten him, yeah? What gives you the right to have all the fun? I thought I was the one strapped up.
I won't be in the way. I could use a cuppa, besides.
[ action ]
What it had not taken was Sherlock's ability to say the entirely wrong thing without hesitation.]
Of course you'll be in the way.
[ It was John who had been strapped with a bomb.
It was John whose safety was threatened. I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you.
If Moriarty were going to harm anyone, it would be John. Not him.]
[ action ]
To John, Moriarty is a psychopath. He doesn't hold value in anything, much less human life. He also seems to have a temper, which makes him more than a little unpredictable. If he is anything like Sherlock (and John does not like to think about it in such a way), who will toss his own things about without a secondary glance during a tantrum, what would Moriarty do?
John may have been the one strapped to the bomb, but he remembered that the consulting criminal was willing to kill them both before the phone had rang. John didn't doubt he would have tried. Not for a moment.
What John did doubt was this sort of immunity Sherlock thought he had against Moriarty. Maybe Sherlock wouldn't be killed outright, true, but there was nothing to stop Moriarty from trying to hurt him. Except, of course, John himself. ]
I'm not leaving, so you'd better find some way to make it work.
[ He tells the other man with a note of finality. He lets his hand go. ]
[ action ]
[When John moved his hand, Sherlock curled his fingers around the box he was still holding. A reaction contained until then.
He saw the similarities between Moriarty and himself. They had followed too close of paths, diverging only in specific places. Moriarty's first murder had been his first case. There was something about it, some inkling that their fates were knit together.
And God help those pulled into it.
Like John.]
Okay.
[His hand tightened around the box, squeezing slightly. Obvious. Too obvious. Moriarty would be watching, enjoying every reaction, drinking in every second of this exchange.]
We'll have a cup of tea. Then we'll go home.
[ action ]
Alright.
[ Something about him relaxes a little. He doesn't challenge Sherlock often, and wins even less, but he's drawing the line here. This is something he feels better taking on together. Sitting at home, he knows he'd just be worrying anyway.
He shifts to walk around Sherlock and make his way to the counter to order. He knows how they both take their tea, seeing as he's often the one making it. There's a glance he passes Moriarty's way, but he doesn't allow his gaze to linger long. Just enough to send the message out, not enough to allow him to really think about how he'd like to come across the table at the bastard and ruffle that pristine countenance. He bets Moriarty goes for the eyes. ]
[ action ]
In this open, public environment, they had to be careful. Moriarty was good at what he did, blending in and wearing masks. They could not be the aggressors or they might be opposed by well-meaning idiots.
But Sherlock's eyes remained on Moriarty for a time then flickered between the consulting criminal and John. While Sherlock would love to provoke Moriarty into a public attack, he would not risk John. Moriarty would out himself eventually, and the odds were in their favour now.
Sherlock tapped his fingers against the table. He was anxious, not impatient. He didn't like having John and Moriarty in so close of quarters, but he would not let himself leave immediately.
It was about appearances. Letting Moriarty see him remain. See he wasn't going to up and run every time.]
[ action ]
But someone needed to stand up to Moriarty. Sherlock was someone with the ability to do that, and John wanted to stand beside him. So far as the current argument went, John didn’t fool himself to think it was settled, but this was not the place to talk about it.
He returned to set a steaming cup before Sherlock, and didn’t pause to circle around and settle down in the open chair nearby. Seemed like he was less inclined to put his back to Moriarty than he was to set his side against Sherlock’s. He seemed content to share the silence that often developed between two people who knew one another, although to say he was content in general would be a grave mistake. His hand, the one which trembled occasionally when he was lax and warm in the armchair at home, was perfectly steady now on the handle of his cup. There was a slow breath across the tea before he sipped. His eyes flickered down to Sherlock’s fingers on the table, then up to the man himself - steady... A sip. ]
[ action ]
A different man had said them, but the words... The words were Moriarty. Every syllable of every sentence was Moriarty, and, in his memory, Sherlock heard the words in dual-layer. The cabbie-- the puppet-- and Moriarty-- the puppetmaster. Sherlock picked up his cup of tea and took a sip of it.
He glanced over at John. His voice was low, careful.]
A different face for every crowd. The perfect chameleon. Genius.
[ action ]
[ Mildly, over the rim of his cup. ]
[ action ]
Why?
I call it what it is-- genius.
To play every role so well, only a few traces... things he can't bear to part with, no matter who he is.
But no one looks that close-- I didn't look that close.
It's genius.
[ action ]
[ He's not irritated at all. ]
[ action ]
Brilliant.
[ action ]
[ John amends. ]
That's enough.
[ action ]
[Okay. He's done now. Probably.]
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