[One blink, two blinks, three. His brother is the only person in the world who would read that correctly--he's startled. But, oh, he shouldn't be, of course Mycroft is already there.]
Oh, good. I might not wind up with so understanding a landlady the next time I fire a pistol at the walls of my flat.
[SPEAKING OF FLATS, DEAR BROTHER. Hide ya pillowcases, hide ya guest towels, etc etc. He's stuffing a Burger King crown in his coat pocket as you two speak, js.]
Or so Sherlock thinks, because somewhat understandably she's not actually on the lookout for a white male version of herself, and so has deduced that Sherlock is- let's see- obnoxious, a scientist, a trying-to-be-former smoker, rich enough to dabble and experiment with whatever he likes but living with a flatmate- boyfriend? No, flatmate, so that makes financial independence seem a little less likely...
She'll work it out. In the meantime, let the pissing contest begin.]
[Understandably! Because it isn't as if he's looking for another version of himself, either.
So what he sees is someone also obnoxious, well-off but not without financial needs and worries (hence a flatshare), from a good enough family that her rebelliousness was a problem but who wasn't dissuaded from it, younger--youngest?--youngest child, ordered mind but easily distracted, deceptively athletic.
And a high need for stimulation and information, to be so understanding of what he means by bored.
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[ :D ]
I've got something of yours, as it happens.
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[...do not know if want or not want. In other words: business as usual.]
If you mean the esteemed Mycroft Holmes, you can keep him. Or set him outside; he's clever, he can find his way home.
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I might not give it back, but I thought I ought to tell you that I've got it- you know, for the sake of fair play.
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I wondered where that had gotten to.
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[ goes about double-Sherlock-proofing his house, as previously recommended ]
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Oh, good. I might not wind up with so understanding a landlady the next time I fire a pistol at the walls of my flat.
[SPEAKING OF FLATS, DEAR BROTHER. Hide ya pillowcases, hide ya guest towels, etc etc. He's stuffing a Burger King crown in his coat pocket as you two speak, js.]
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Speaking of understanding. As I recall, the last time I saw you, you were jumping off a rooftop. I see you've done well for yourself since then.
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Bored.
Please.
[You don't know the meaning of bored.
Or so Sherlock thinks, because somewhat understandably she's not actually on the lookout for a white male version of herself, and so has deduced that Sherlock is- let's see- obnoxious, a scientist, a trying-to-be-former smoker, rich enough to dabble and experiment with whatever he likes but living with a flatmate- boyfriend? No, flatmate, so that makes financial independence seem a little less likely...
She'll work it out. In the meantime, let the pissing contest begin.]
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So what he sees is someone also obnoxious, well-off but not without financial needs and worries (hence a flatshare), from a good enough family that her rebelliousness was a problem but who wasn't dissuaded from it, younger--youngest?--youngest child, ordered mind but easily distracted, deceptively athletic.
And a high need for stimulation and information, to be so understanding of what he means by bored.
Interesting.]
I shouldn't wish to be, no.
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Well, seeing as I'm currently neither, I cannot give you an accurate report.
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[Just told to piss off--look, it's so not the same thing.]
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