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

[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.