dear_mun | (no subject)

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canon: sherlock holmes

(no subject)

I feel that after several months with you, acting as a bit of occasional moral support, there's no need for formality, so let's just soldier on to the heart of it, shall we? I know you've a tendency to pick up new creative endeavors when you're stressed, and to some extent, I'll admit, it serves a a decent tonic. All the same, I commend you for lasting this long in waiting to write me up any form of application. Anything worth doing is worth doing well, after all, and I'll not go anywhere half-cocked. Even if, as you've said, there are those who would be eager to see me.

Give it a bit more time yet, old girl. You've done splendidly thus far, a bit more wait won't hurt anything. If nothing else, I know poor old Gladstone is about somewhere, and for some odd reason, I can have plenty of conversations with... Myself.

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Yes. Good. It is pleasing to see that some of us have been placed with someone still able to function with an adequate amount of reason and patience, at least.

You should count yourself lucky, sir.

I do, yes... in several circumstances. Thank you, [briefest pause, because how do you address a cat?] sir.

I take it, from the nature of your remark, that you deal with someone with less patience?

[a nearly-six-foot-tall cat, at that. And 'sir' is apparently perfectly acceptable. Good form.]

Unfortunate as it is, yes.

And less tact. ...And intelligence. My grasp of vocabulary alone seems to put her into a state of bewilderment on a regular basis.

Oh dear. More's the pity for you then, I'm afraid. A thesaurus, perhaps? But come now, where are my manners. [doffing his hat in lieu of a handshake because claws maybe? he has no idea, this is all still kind of new. but seeing is believing, at least until he or Holmes prove it otherwise] Dr. John Watson. A pleasure.

[a curt nod. He appreciates the lack of handshake. The more he can avoid possible contaminates, the better--germs are everywhere, you know.]

Mordecai Heller. A pleasure indeed.

[a pause to adjust his glasses] ...Doctor, mm? It has been some time since I've had the pleasure of speaking with a man of learning. May I ask what you are a doctor of?

Medicine - a surgeon, to be precise. Served in Afghanistan, if that's of any interest to you.

I'll bet there are plenty eager to see you, Doctor Watson.

[there's a feeling like someone just drizzled ice water over his scalp, and he instantly bristles]

Yourself included, I'm guessing, if only long enough for a clear shot.

That's all I would need. If I were feeling generous that day.

[Moran normally isn't into the idea of torture. That was always more the Professor's forte. However, Watson gets special consideration after dropping a building on his employer and nearly blowing him to kingdom come.]

It is rather disconcerting, don't you think?

[He says as if Watson would know precisely what he is referring to]

Are you talking about anything I was referring to, or is this about something you found in your left shoe?

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