unborn, eternal

[bleachtaire]

Oh please~.

Do you expect me to allow your prolonged absence? That I'd eagerly welcome your return like a dog to its master? I cannot begin to imagine (read; ignore) what's happened in that funny little head of yours since you dropped me. You may play people that aspire to sainthood, but I am not the type of man to yield his life for those loose, phony papers you call ideals. Steve Rogers and that Doctor may be blind enough for that; my body will not repose calmly in grotesque bier though. If you believe that, I shall think of you a simpleton.

Well, a bigger simpleton. Do try to keep up.

Comments

[sorcerist]

It's just insufferable being subject to their whims.

[No sarcasm here; he's not too happy about this business himself.]

[bleachtaire]

It's a nuisance~, really. [His nose twitches from displeasure.]

And they don't even have the common courtesy to say please. [As if James has any room to speak on the degradation of ethics and etiquettes in today's society; he once put a toad in a professor's toaster.]

[sorcerist]

Well, they don't have to, do they? They don't have to do anything they don't want to.

It's a profoundly unequal state of affairs if you ask me.

[bleachtaire]

[A quirk of his brow, almost in condescension.] And what do you propose we do, then? Rebel? That's more for the likes of you, I shall say.

[Jim waves his hand, almost shooing this boy off.] Go on. Go do youth-y things. Commit a crime, that sounds interesting and terribly rebellious and youth-like.

[sorcerist]

I don't think that would be particularly effective, no.

[And that shooing motion would be offensive-- until he hears the rest, and that's really what catches his attention because: I'm sorry, dude, are you serious?]

Do I look like the sort of person who goes around committing crimes to be rebellious?

[He's so very affronted, Sir.]

[bleachtaire]

[His eyes lazily glaze over the young man.]

No, you look the type to say terribly witty things at inappropriate times to try to appear cool. I hardly see the difference between that and a crime. [Do try to keep up.]

[sorcerist]

[He's not far wrong, but Owen's not terribly bothered by the accuracy of that assessment. He's smart enough to know that coolness is always subjective, and largely an affectation.]

Well, there's the part where one is illegal. I would consider that a fairly large difference, personally.

[bleachtaire]

[A soft snort of contempt.] Perhaps to you. But, one man's definition of illegality surely differs from another's.

[sorcerist]

No; one country's might differ from another's --and of course its subjects definitions will vary accordingly-- but assuming two individuals of the same nationality... Unless you're very ignorant of the laws of the State where you reside, one man's definition of illegality shouldn't really differ from another's.

...It's only the fairness or morality of those definitions which are up for debate, as well as whether or not it really counts as illegal if you don't get caught.

[bleachtaire]

[A chuckle escapes his lips.] Of course there is. Who do you think resides in our prisons? Puppies?

Oh, now we're debating whether or not getting caught qualifies an act as illegal? How would you define the crimes those on Interpol's Most Wanted list have committed then? They have not been caught, therefore they haven't done anything illegal?

[sorcerist]

No-- just people who thought the reward was worth the risk.

I'm not saying I think it doesn't qualify as illegal, I'm saying possibly some criminals make the whole "If a tree falls..." argument. Nothing more.

[bleachtaire]

[He snorts in contempt again. Not at Owen, but more at the criminals.] Yes and that's why they're idiots. They always slip up, become so cocky, and that's their downfall. And it's why the people, excluding one, who chase after them are idiots as well.

[sorcerist]

Well, they don't all slip up, otherwise there wouldn't be so many unexplained cases on the books of the police...

Or unless, as you say, the police are more incompetent than the criminals.

[bleachtaire]

[If Jim didn't have such a displeasure of cold cases, perhaps there wouldn't.] Just about, yes.

[He's not naming any names or fingering any fingers, but there's one or two that's more competent than the rest.]

[sorcerist]

Charming thought.

[solvescases]

Well....this is interesting.

[bleachtaire]

Is that all you can say?

[A flick of a brow and a slight upwards turn of a mouth.] Now that is interesting.

[solvescases]

[a snort of derision] If you're going to parrot my words back, you can hardly poke fun at them.

So you're a detective now? I find myself scarce able to believe it. [flatly]

[bleachtaire]

I was never aware I was anything but that during the course of our relationship. I'm the consulting detective and you're the consulting criminal. [His eyes narrow in intent study at Sherlock.]

If this is your idea of a game, it's a terrible one.

[solvescases]

Ha! I will admit to nothing of the sort.

The mun did dabble slightly with that idea...but I do believe she was scared off by how well it played out.

[circling slowly]

[bleachtaire]

[A slow rise of a brow as his eyes follow him.] Yes, human beings are most frightened by how easily the darkness can stain souls and blah, blah, blah.

[solvescases]

Yes....and how right they are. [Sherlock knows with his Moriarty, that is the only thing that separates him from the criminal.]

Let me guess, you probably take credit for all the cases I actually had a hand in solving.

[bleachtaire]

[If Molly's opinion from their rows are any to go on, Jim doesn't have a soul.]

Solving? [Now a snort from him.] You commit them. [Not that Jim has any prove of that. Sherlock's always careful enough not to get his hands dirty, never to get close enough to get swept up.]

[solvescases]

[For once, Sherlock agrees with Miss Hooper.]

I. do. WHAT? [incensed at the implication at first but then a smile curves his face, and not a happy one] Oh, I see. Very clever. It won't work, I'm onto you.

[bleachtaire]

[Brows furrowed (not in confusion, completely not), it slowly loosens as the smile appears on Sherlock's face.] You're onto me who's onto you? Wow, you're a cunning one, aren't you?

this could quickly dissolve into an abbott and costello routine lol

[solvescases]

Of course I am. All of that nonsense about being a fake and proving my deductions were made up, this is all setup to try and prove that I'm truly the criminal and you are not.

Like I said, it won't work.

well it's already descending into a pissing match.

[bleachtaire]

[Okay those brows are not totally furrowed from confusion because what? It takes him less than a second for his eyes to move over Sherlock and come up with his conclusion. He's not a double or a copy; too right in the right places and wrong in the wrong places.]

You're not my Sherlock Holmes. [His voice is steely and confident, like it is when he's at a crime scene with Molly and Lestrade.]

You're someone else. Definitely Sherlock Holmes, yes, but... [When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.] You're from an alternate universe.

[solvescases]

[That was not the answer he had expected. Sherlock narrows his eyes, looking for the slightest hint of deceit in that explanation. He really wants to say that Moriarty is ten kinds of wrong, but he cannot.]

...eliminated the impossible? We're left with improbable. [Sherlock's not sure if he likes having a criminal counterpart in any universe, even if it's not his own.]

[bleachtaire]

But it is the truth is not? You keep calling me a criminal, which I am not, and I keep calling you one, which you are not. What other explanation could they be?

[solvescases]

[Sherlock gives a frustrated sigh] Perhaps the mere fact you are correct is proof enough.

Fair enough. I suppose that means my counterpart has been laying certain groundwork....or has he already shot himself through the head? [Why is Sherlock morbidly curious to know?]

[bachelorjohnwatson]

There's nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself. Could probably learn from them.

[bleachtaire]

Bettering myself by dying for idiotic causes? That's lowering myself, not the other way around. It's that same mentality that makes men join armies and fight in wars.

[bachelorjohnwatson]

I think the word you're looking for is 'honour', and some men are happy to die for something they truly believe in. That's bravery -- there's nothing about it that's lowering yourself.

[bleachtaire]

Sure. I believe that as much as I believe in Father Christmas. If you want to push those fabrications onto someone, push them onto someone who has an IQ lower than seventy-five and who cares.

[bachelorjohnwatson]

[ He's got two fingertips pressed against his temple, massaging, attempting to keep a headache at bay. ] Call it whatever you want. I'm only saying - courage and bravery will make a better man far more than wealth or power ever will.

[bleachtaire]

[Short bark of a biting laugh.] Yes, and I'm sure when this man is hungry, he can buy food with his courage and bravery. Oh, he can't? Well, how unfortunate and predictable.

[zordaar]

[She takes a long, leisurely time to examine him, her face entirely blank—the non-expression which comes from not wanting to waste any energy on projecting emotion.

Finally:]

But you didn't kill him. [Powers, one assumes.] Why not, if not morality? Incompetence? Inconvenience?

[bleachtaire]

Oh, you have me mistaken for the other bloke, dear. [A tight-lipped grin, masking the glee he's experiencing. While she may think projecting emotions is a waste of energy, Jim doesn't follow that school of thought. Jim likes nothing more for his emotions to project or disguise his thoughts and schemes; often, he feeds off the fear or excitement that people react from it. Sometimes he thinks it's weird or unusual that he does that. That he might be more like Sherlock Holmes than he fears he already is. Then the thought that if he was any less like Sherlock, he'd be more like other ordinary people and Jim simply can't have that.]

And it's more out of amusement. And convenience. When won't I have the use for a super solider or a time and space traveler?

[unfocused]

I imagine there are many people you think of as 'simpletons'. [ With the barest hints of a smile. ] Rightly so.

If you wanted something to do, I could provide.

[bleachtaire]

There's nothing you can provide that I want. [A frown, before a flick of the finger to the door.] So, it'd great if you would leave. I'm a busy man.

[unfocused]

[ The pointing is ignored in favour of idly wandering about the room, touching things, little trinkets Jim has accumulated, tight, precise mathematician's handwriting scrawled over various surfaces. A pointer finger drags over something that appears to be a Q, but upon closer examination, is actually a zero. ]

Wrong. [ A glance back at Jim, the corners of his lips relaxing, nonchalance apparent once more across his features. ] Though not entirely. [ Moving now, across the room, flipping through books, performing some fancy albeit calculated footwork in reaching his enemy, his opposite. ] You crave something to occupy your mind; mathematics and Molly Hooper only provide so much stimulation.

[ And then he's right before the armchair Jim has perched himself in, idling himself with a book. ] Being bored is anathema to you. You don't want what I have to offer. [ Then quite suddenly, he's dodged around the front of the chair and he's staring down at Moriarty, fingers curled around the spine of the book he'd been holding. ]

You need it.

[bleachtaire]

[The frown becomes more pronounced and -- oh, he's touching all of his stuff. Jim's silent throughout the whole examination. Instead, his eyes just follows Sherlock around, and now Molly or Mrs. Hudson is going to have to clean and sanitize everything he's touching. His brow does raise when Sherlock mentions stimulation or rather, lack of stimulation, and he's wrong about that; well, mostly.

Jim looks up at Sherlock, a book held up to his face. And now Sherlock's fingers on it. He tugs it away from him, setting it down on his lap.]

Is it you? Oh, frankly, that's anti-climatic, Holmes. Really, I thought better of you~.

[unfocused]

Don't be dull, Jim. [ Eyes trail down over his adversary and rest on the book in Jim's lap. ] Think. I know it's difficult.

[ And then he averts his eyes, finally, taking a few steps over to the other armchair before taking a seat. His eyes now seek out Jim's, intending to keep eye contact for as long as he'll be provided with Jim's glance. If Jim is to turn his attention to the book, there's a small slip of paper hanging out of the pages, one corner bent. ] But you're capable, unlike the company you surround yourself with.

[ If Jim's taunts have served to deter him, he certainly isn't showing it. ]