voice-testing. hello there. ♥

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

You think you've really got it then, you've got the words down, the style down. You know what it is that makes me tick, know what it is that makes my blood burn -- aren't you overestimating yourself, just a little?

I certainly hope that you do not disappoint me.

Comments

[notquitejosephbell]

You should likely prepare for disappointment. [ Because nobody knows how you work, Moriarty. If Sherlock doesn't get it, then no one else does either. ]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Disappointment? Oh no, no no no. It wouldn't do well to disappoint me.

[notquitejosephbell]

Then cease expecting the impossible.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Now why would I do a little thing like that?

There's no such thing as impossible. Dying before you achieve it, now that's a different story. But it's certainly, wholly possible.

[notquitejosephbell]

The concept of the impossible is a very real thing, I assure you. Without it, most methods of analysis would be rendered ineffectual.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

So what then, do you think Sherlock Holmes.

Am I an impossible man to grasp?

1/2

[notquitejosephbell]

For your mundane, most likely, yes.

2/2

[notquitejosephbell]

For me, not at all. [ Lying. Through the skin of his teeth. ]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

And that is where you're wrong. Wrong, [ a beat, a sing song tone to his voice ] wrong, WRONG.

[ He laughs and it's unhinged, his head tilted back, and his eyes wide. ] You don't grasp me at all, dear. But you're the closest man to it, I'll give you that. It's because you're so...very. Much. Like. Me.

[notquitejosephbell]

[ To that, his lip twitches, etching lines into his cheek. A breath, a single breath is pulled back and held as the man engages him with histrionic theatrics, though his eyes stay steadily focused on Moriarty. ]

Similar, but not the same. [ He's unwavering, yet stiff. Posture erect, he turns his head to the side and breaks his gaze, choosing instead to stare into the distance. A moment's hesitation occurs, because Sherlock always needs time to think around this man. ]

I understand you as well as you do me. [ And then with cocked brow, his glance shifts back to the criminal. A bluff for you, Moriarty. ]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Similar, but not the same. [ He echos. And just like that the slight fit's gone, his expression's calm, complacent.

Thoughtful. ]

No, see. You're much - easier to understand. You've got rules. They've always got rules on the side of angels.

[notquitejosephbell]

Yes, they have rules. [ There's no doubt in his mind that the expression is one teetering on the edge of a collapse, that any second the man may snap and Sherlock may find hands wrapped tight around his neck or the barrel of a gun may be lodged deep in his stomach. He knows the only thing preventing this is the interest he inspires in the other man. Every word shared between them is a gamble, a spun chamber with one loaded bullet.

It excites him. ]

But the side you chose to affiliate yourself with has proclivities. And rules are so much easier to break than habits.

[ With the slightest hint of a smirk: ] I would know.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

[ It's a rather endless game - well, truthfully not endless - an ongoing game of Russian Roulette, each trigger pull growing closer to the end of Moriarty's patience. He does have quite the patience if he does say so himself, he's barely lost control of himself in this debate, in this friendly little conversation.

It's delightful. ]

Imagine that. Sherlock Holmes, breaking the rules. [ And he's leaning in closer, dark eyes meeting light eyes, staring. ]

I'd love to see it. [ and his teeth widen, pointed smile aimed right at Sherlock, right below his nose. ] See, I'm careful about my habits. Don't like to get my hands dirty.

I cannot...wait for the day, Sherlock, when I dirty my hands with you.

[notquitejosephbell]

[ Of Moriarty's patience, perhaps, but more importantly the end of Sherlock's life. But he lives for the thrill and exists to be entertained, because without that to drive him, everything would be monotonously pointless.

The approach into his personal space has him on edge, fingertips drumming against his trousers. ]

Is it that difficult to picture? [ It shouldn't be. Why, just ask his brother. ] Your indulgence in habitual behaviour is almost imperceptible, par your penchant for disruption. But I perceive what most people don't, and can't.

[ The threat borders on the edge of being a flirtation, (or perhaps it's the other way around?) but Sherlock pays little mind to it. Just offers raised brows and a pointed look, then glances away, as if to denote his disinterest in the subject with a glance. ]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

And just what have you...noticed. [ His tone fluctuates slightly, deepening as he nears closer. It was a veiled flirtation, certainly - because he knows Sherlock well, well enough to know just how much it tends to get to him, how much it seems to bother him. ]

[ Moriarty takes out a stick of gum, making a show of slipping the white strip on his tongue, pulling it into his mouth with the tip. He chews, rather obnoxiously, almost boredly, you're boring him Sherlock. Boring, boring, boring. ]

I'd love to know.

[notquitejosephbell]

[ Oh but it takes every ounce of self-restraint in Sherlock's blood not to respond, not to rise to the occasion. Every deduction, every analysis, every demonstration of his abilities was just another card revealed to Moriarty, and Sherlock wanted to keep his proverbial ace up his sleeve.

Eyes flicker over the gum, examine its shape, width, imprints, texture, colour, and even smell, though he does imagine the last detail would be easier perceived up close.

So he paces.

Circles Moriarty like a shark, carefully places footsteps making it look as if Sherlock was balancing himself, as if one false step would have him fall. Because this man could make him fall, did make him fall, will make him fall again if he's given the chance.

Sherlock isn't so generous. ]

Yes, I'm sure you would.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

[ He doesn't move, though his eyes follow, the edges of his lips twitching up, watching as Sherlock slowly circles around him. He looks more entertained now that Sherlock's less stationary, almost like a cat watching a toy, his jaw working at the mint, it's peppermint, you can probably smell it now can't you piece of chewing gum in his mouth. ]

You're so forthcoming with all of your observations about other people, you're not going to do so with me? [ A pout, well, nearly a pout, his lips are pressed into a frown, and he finally turns to watch him, moving on the ball of his foot. ] I want to know what you know.

[ He smiles then, and pauses. ] More than that, I want to know if you're right. How do you know? How do you know if I'm not just putting things on for your benefit?

[ Jim Moriarty then starts pacing along with him, circling him instead, like a wild animal prepared to strike at any given moment. ] Tell me, what you think you know from me.

[mycroft_holmes]

[Mycroft sounds bored.]

You're not that complex. Since "Sherlock" is the answer to each of those....

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Being presumptuous are we. Be it as it may, there are...other things.

Perhaps not as exciting, perhaps not as interesting.

But there are other things.

[mycroft_holmes]

[Mycroft chuckles, though it's not quite amused.]

Other things? You honestly expect me to believe that after... Well. After.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

[ He knows that chuckle, he can sense the uneasiness, and he smiles at it, relishing in it. ]

He's a hobby. A source of entertainment. Some have their needlepoint, I ...well. I prefer other things. More interesting things.

[mycroft_holmes]

[Now, Mycroft rolls his eyes.]

You're quite transparent. I don't know what my brother saw in you.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Transparent, [ He makes a sound at the back of his throat, dismissal evident in his voice. ] don't insult me now.

Perhaps he sees in me what he sees in himself.

[mycroft_holmes]

He is rather transparent himself....

[He'll stick with the theme, it's an acceptable one.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Perhaps you're used to it. Growing up with him and all. Should tell me another story, Mycroft, I love your stories.

[mycroft_holmes]

Love them so much, you blew your brains out.

[Well, Mycroft knows he didn't, but it's more fun this way.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

[ He laughs, can't help it really. ]

That's rich. You honestly think faking my own death is hard? When I've made so many other men disappear? Oh no, it's quite easy...

[mycroft_holmes]

[He sighs.]

You are so very predictable. Boring.

[And exceedingly easy to get worked up.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Don't insult me, Mycroft.

[ Really. Not a very good idea. ]

[mycroft_holmes]

I had no idea telling the truth would be so insulting.

[His tone sounds so very innocent. It's not. Mycroft knows what he's doing.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

[ He chuckles, and just sort of slides the weight from one foot to the other. ]

You always were the more irritating Holmes brother. I miss the fun one. Where's he at?

[mycroft_holmes]

Oh... Lost track of him?

[Mycroft knows he's more irritating because he's the more intelligent.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Oh no, I'm sure I could find him if I so needed.

[ And he sneers. ] Just would rather get it out of you.

[mycroft_holmes]

[He grins.]

Well. Good luck with that. I can't tell you what I don't know.

[owesyousomuch]

[He doesn't know why his mun forced him here. Ohh how much he hates Moriarty considering he made everyone believe Sherlock was a fraud.He wants a gun, why isn't his mun getting him a gun?]

Where are you off to then?

[He's hoping not the game he's in though his mun would absolutely die from joy if he showed up.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

[ Oh, John. John, John, John. He just sort of chuckles, shakes his head, a shame for you John, perhaps a gun would do you some good. ]

Don't know. Hardly care, it's a work in progress at the moment, you know how it is. Testing and everything. Boring stuff, really.

Why? Where...should I be going?

[owesyousomuch]

Should care considering the games these people tend to put us in.

[Frowns a bit.]

I don't want you there but mun wants to see you in the_library considering I'm the only one there who knew Sherlock. Best that way though, no one thinks he's a fraud.

[glare.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

Anything would be more entertaining than where I'm currently residing. Not very clever, this one. Some scenery would do some good.

[ He just sort of smirks, slyly. ]

You have to admit. Things...do...click don't they. You doubted him. I saw it.

[owesyousomuch]

I never doubted him. He couldn't have acted like that the whole time I was with him.

[Frowns.]

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

And how sure are you of that?

[ A laugh, a brief one, short and succinct, barely even a ha ]

I'm sure he's told you, but in case you haven't notices, you're not the brightest, John Watson. How can you be so sure he's not just...made the entire thing up? Hired actors. Pulled strings. He's smart enough to do it.

[owesyousomuch]

[Shaking a bit.]
No.
[No matter what happened, no matter what others said, he would always believe in Sherlock Holmes.]
Because he was my friend and I will always believe in him.

[goodoldfashionedvillain]

You're the only one that does.

[ Just a smile. Believe all you want, it doesn't change the rest of the world. ]

[owesyousomuch]

That's not true either.

[He was sure that at least Mrs.Hudsen believed as well.]