dear_mun | (no subject)

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canon: sherlock holmes

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Ohhh, all right, all right. All riiiight.

I said I would, and here I am. It's a nice enough day, I suppose. Don't really have anything else better to do.

Could be interesting. Meet some people. Get out, get about. Maybe start something. A riot would be nice. Good, clear day for it, and there's soooo little happening right now.

Mmm, a word, though, dear. Nothing too terribly serious, don't you pull that face on me. Don't you think that name's just the littlest bit obtuse? Hmm? Just the littlest tiny bit?

[_nope.]

No?

[_{it's just. obtuse. enough.

he shrugs, rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out from his trouser pocket.}]

Whatever. [_singsong:] I don't ca~are. Don't come crying to me when no-one gets it, and never say I didn't warn you.

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A man. [ there's all sorts of conclusions that could be reached with that morsel of information. but Sherlock likes to avoid assuming. ] A man for what purpose? Somehow you don't strike me as the 'few rounds at a pub' type.

[ oh no, no, no. he isn't going to enlighten you on How To Be a Good Friend. honestly he's hardly got half a clue himself. make it up as you go along, don't be surprised when they leave, be utterly shocked when they stick around, etc, etc. ]

I could tell you, but that would spoil all the inevitable fun of reading the blog entry.

Yes, a man. _{[did you not hear him, Sherls? he glances over the detective like maybe he's suddenly lost his hearing.]} You know. Cook, maid, chauffeur, general handyman. Sniper, arsonist, brute force. _[shrug.] The normal things. He was very good. _{[read: I miss him.]} It'll be terrible business to try and find a replacement. _{[read: I miss him very terribly.]

[but if he keeps on this particular line of conversation, you might think there's more to Mister Jim Moriarty than just boom, bang, dead, so he moves on with a wave of his hand. don't look at him like that, Sherlock. he doesn't need your judging.]}

Oh, come on, don't be cruel. You know I like hearing it from the horse's mouth. Besides, John's typing is so bland and he never puts the juicy parts in. _{[leeeeans closer.]} Don't hold back from your dear friend Jim, dearest. Daddy needs his crack.

[ is this sentiment? are you lonely, Moriarty? does it bother you the closest thing you've come to companionship has come out of a paid arrangement?

the detective eyes him carefully, dissecting the criminal like he would lines of a book, flicking over him, reading him. this answers two questions and raises a thousand more. frustrating. impossible to ask all of them. might as well ask one and save the other nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine for later. ]

You are looking for a replacement, though.

[ he's sick of playing by your rules. he'll move on when he damn well feels like moving on.

suddenly his personal space is being invaded (typical, irksome, very Moriarty indeed) and Sherlock has to fight his urge to step away. ]

Do feel free to email him your opinions. I too agree he's in need of some constructive criticism regarding his writing. [ aka yes John is shit at writing this is not news. but Sherlock flutters his lashes, rolls his eyes, and heaves a (slightly dramatic) sigh. ] Ignoring the frankly alarming exaggeration of our relationship, the case has to do with... [ should he be telling him this? his greatest nemesis, the one man who danced him into a fall? should he counter with a red herring out of passive-aggression, or the truth out of begrudging respect? Sherlock hesitates. purses his lips. ] ...a rat.

[ _{wait a moment, he knows that face he knows that face and he'll be damned if he lets you figure him out. goddamn you, Sherlock Holmes, stop being so goddamn PERFECT.} ]

I am. [ _{the answer is clipped and short because 1) he'll be damned, DAMNED YOU HEAR HIM, if he'll let on how much he misses that man, and 2) he's not amused by your prying and your face and that stupid stupid look-} ] But it's so hard to find good help these days, you knoo~ow? So many boring people to sift through, and so many of them have morals.

[ _{oooh are you flinching on the inside yet? he leans just the littlest bit closer. cmon, sugar. crack. crack, damnit. this is what you get for prying, naughty boy.} ]

I think I left him a comment or something once, but he never really got back to me. [ _{because hacking into his blog and leaving creepy videos is the same as emailing him, yes?} ]

A raa~aat, hmmm? How utterly fascinating. [ _{not. not at all. he said JUICY details, damn you.} ] Come on, Sherlock, I've been so bored and so lonely. It won't kill you to tell me all about it...?

That's one explanation. [ melodramatics and histrionics, how typical. except the way his lips draw into a line, the barest hints of a frown etched into the edges of his mouth, drawing lines from his nose halfway down to his jaw, the involuntary twitch of what Sherlock believes to be a pout, well those nuances are hard to fake. a raise of his brows, and he gambles, tells the dealer to hit him: ] or it might be sentiment.

[ their proximity is unsettling. the drip drip of something nasty in the back of his throat; down to his stomach. he swallows.

if he's going to play, he's playing to win. can't let his opponent call his bluff. ]

Couldn't imagine why. [ his upper lip curls back on the y, but his expression smooths out once more. ] Being bored and alone generally comes with the territory. Wouldn't know without a common frame of reference, but being deceased does sound rather dull. [ nah fuck you Moriarty, he'll continue to not say anything at all. ]

Tell me more about this bodyguard-slash-courtesan of yours.

[ _{a toothy grin that can only be described as violent stretches over his face, sharp teeth grimacing in an almost inhuman fashion. when he speaks, his voice is quiet and raw and hoarse and thick with warning. back the fuck off.} ]

Don't be asinine, Sherlock. Hired help is just that.

[ _{he's going to lean closer and closer, jaw set and vicious. he can feel Sherlock's breath. you look nerrrvous, Sherlock. you look scaaared, something violent in his mind whispers, and he forces himself not to back away or swallow or do anything but force himself back into a calm, pleasant facial expression. that monster's stirring again, just like it always does around Sherlock. come on, Sherlock. come out and play.

he rolls his eyes and smiles pleasantly again.} ]

Obviously I'm doing all right. Wouldn't you say? Even if this is all in your head. At least you've given me a nice suit and my lovely sense of humour.

[ _{get OFF the fucking MAN already. he pouts comically.} ]

It's just not fair to demand info from me when I've already asked you so nicely to give me some first, Sherly. You have to tell me all about your rat or I won't play.

[ _{a beat.} ]

And I never said he was playing the part of courtesan. [ _{fake gasp!} ] Is the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes just as twisted as the rest of us? Hiding all those little kinks and fantasies and sick little predilections? I always knew you were a hypocrite, dearest, but I didn't know it ran that deep. Tsk tsk tsk. God, what I wouldn't give to know them all.

[ then why are you being so sensitive? the grin makes Moriarty look like a caricature, skin and lips stretched taut, splitting his face in two. thirty-two teeth. or is it twenty-eight? he wonders idly if Moriarty was the type to have his wisdom teeth removed. if he has any fillings, if he's even ever had a cavity. Sherlock exhales.

he could use a cigarette. ]

Is just what? Hired help? Money being involved doesn't preclude sentiment. [ read: I'm not scared of you. unsettled, yes, and uncomfortable, but scared? you're a one-trick pony, and now all of this is just par for the course. never mind those coiling knots looping themselves around his stomach, or the chill that sweeps down his spine and leaves his fingertips numb; he's done this once, he can do it again. threaten, intimidate, do your worst, Moriarty. you can't take away anymore than you already have.

at least, that's what he keeps telling himself. but thoughts are thoughts and words are words, and isn't it body language that speaks the loudest? and the way Sherlock's rocked back on his heels, torso slowly leaning away from Moriarty as he speaks, that says too much.

he reaches into his pockets. gives him a look, a raise of brows and a comical mockery of a frown. ]

If I'd imagined you, I think I would have made you taller. [ siiiiighhhh ] Rat. Giant. Sumatra. Ships. Possible vampires.

You didn't? Forgive me, I tend to assume the worst when it comes to you. [ that even glance and unwavering calm cracks at the edges; his lip twitches. something like a snarl. the smell of mint. suddenly it slams into him and no no no Moriarty is too too too close get him away now now no--

he takes a step back, it feels like a giant leap, like his balance is threatened in the movement. in reality, it's hardly half a foot, but it's enough to fit a neat pocket of air between them, so that the boundaries of where Jim begins and Sherlock ends are no longer convoluted and twisted into one. ] I don't suppose this man had a name?

[ _{you stepped back YOU STEPPED BACK, SHERLOCK, and he grins wide. he's won, he's won and you've lost because you couldn't TAKE IT. but you never can, can you, Sherlock?

Jim relaxes just a little bit, sticking his hands in his pockets, smirking and rolling his head in that creepy reptilian fashion he seems to prefer, eyes never leaving Sherlock.} ]

Vampires and rats, hmm? You don't say. Sounds interesting. Sort've sexy, you know? Sharp teeth and all that.

[ _{you lost and he won so he doesn't have to pay attention to every little thing you say anymore. he can smell the fear on you, Sherls, and he knows he can take you out. I don't have everything yet. You know that, don't you?

he shrugs playfully and smiles innocently. you can smell it, can't you? shouldn't have come alone, Sherls.} ] As you should. Assuming the worst, I mean. Any taller and I'd have to buy new suits.

[ _{asshole.

he sighs and rolls his eyes.} ] Fine, fine. Since you've been such a good boy. The good Colonel Sebastian Moran. I doubt you'd have heard of him. I managed to snap him up before he made too much of a mess of himself when he was discharged. Dishonourably, as I understand it. Great shot, nice ass. I had to have him.

[ _{he normally throws in sexual references just to get Sherlock all riled, but in this case he's not too far from the truth. man did have a nice ass.} ]

Part of the reason I don't do much dealing with drugs anymore. [ _{and now he's thinking about Sebastian and FUCK YOU, SHERLOCK, he didn't want to think about Sebastian, so he's gonna make it hurt.} ] You never did say if you and John were talking. Have you not made the big reveal? [ _{thaaat's right, curls, he hasn't forgotten how you dodged all mention of the good, dear Doctor Watson. a quick mock-gasp.} ] Oh, no. He's gone and disowned you, hasn't he? He has, oh no. How terrible, Sherlock. You should have caaa~lled. I'd give you a place to stay, you know. Free of charge, even.

[ _{a leisure, lascivious look over the detective. squirm.} ]

...Well. After a fashion, anyways.

Edited 2013-05-01 17:44 (UTC)

If you fancy yourself a teenage girl, perhaps. [ it's just a battle won, not the war. the perfidious grin hacks itself into Sherlock's soul, and the detective finds himself struggling not to look away. what a fascinating ceiling. the way the cracks run down the middle and splinter off to the sides paints a picture very close to the branches of a tree. or the veins running through the body to the heart.

to clarify: he isn't scared. you've made your point and struck your matches, burnt him alive. he just doesn't want you to touch him again. ]

Colonel Sebastian Moran. [ the twitch of a smile, and oh, you're wrong. thoughts reel and a thousand images fly before him, because if Sherlock knows nothing else, he knows crime and criminals and criminal behaviour and who's who in that world. he might not know the Sun revolves around the Earth (or, no, wait, is it the other way around? hardly important) but he does know who this is. ] Father was a minister to Iran, a decorated war hero. Three trips to Afghanistan, promising career, but a bad temper and a tendency towards violence put an end to that. Last seen illegally poaching tigers in Eastern India. Until now, I suppose.

[ thanks, but he'll ignore the sexual references, mostly because he has no time for them. they're not worth the extra few seconds of contemplation, because don't you know, they both live for the reaction? and he is oh-so-very excited to see Moriarty's reaction to that answer.

God, back on this again? Sherlock pulls his eyes from the fascinating ceiling to meet Moriarty's gaze again, watching his lips move as he speaks. John. yes, John. John whom he abandoned for years, how long has it been now? too long. too, too long. John who's last conversation with Sherlock was the detective admitting to everything Moriarty has conceived about him. John who watched him fall. John who cried at his grave.

fuck you more, Moriarty. fuck. you. just for that, he'll continue to glaze over this conversation. roll his eyes and swallow his heart, because it's threatening to spill over his lips. ]

Kind of you, but I'd rather sleep in a sewer. [ a tight, brief smile. ]

Oh, you don't need to be a teenaged girl to appreciate how sexy a sharp-toothed monster tearing someone's throat out can be.

[ _{and here, a pointed smirk. sound familiar, Sherlock? it should. blood's exciting, especially when it's on his teeth and his claws, and he is just STAINED with you, isn't he? so much so that you won't look at him. that's adorable, Sherlock, and just the littlest bit sad. he glances at Sherlock's shirt. always unbuttoned roguishly. hmm.} ]

Yes, yes. Very good. You've done your research. Congratulations. [ _{his tone is bored, like he doesn't care, because he knows if he shows the slightest hint of the roiling rage Sherlock's knowledge of his Basher drummed up in him he'll lose the next round, and so early off his last victory? not fucking likely. he reaches up thoughtfully, touching not Sherlock himself but the piece of collar not touching the man's skin, hanging out cheekily.} ] Lost a nipple to a tiger. Thrilling story, really. He loves to use it to get laid, though I think the story of our almost dying in Helsinki is sexier.

[ _{you're not getting out of this now, Sherlock. you brought up Sebastian. you made it personal. he rubs the shirt as if he's checking the fabric, because he is a little bit, in honesty. he cocks his head to one side, raising an eyebrow, the perfect look of innocence.} ]

Of course you would, dear, that is your way. Rather be miserable and headstrong when you could be comfortable and just the littlest bit pliable. Tsk, tsk. [ _{he pulls on the fabric a little, as if checking how tightly it's wrapped to his body.} ] Don't you own a shirt that fits?

[ _{mmm, but it doesn't matter. he runs a finger along the fabric again, fingertip just barely hovering above Sherlock's chest, before pulling his hand away.} ] A shame you don't know what's going on with Johnny-boy. I did have a few failsafes in place. [ _{he sounds unaffected, almost disinterested in the idea of John being brutally murdered.reliable bunch when it came to playing nice.}

Edited 2013-05-02 17:56 (UTC)

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your jim voice is so spot on THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW...

sCREAMS THANK YOU AHHHHH =w= I love your Sherlock too! are you apping anywhere?

aaAAAH you're sweet also umumum i'm looking but i haven't found anywhere good yet aw hbu?

I'm thinking Asgard and Holly Heights rn! HH doesn't have a Sherlock cast /tempts with cookies????

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god jim you are such an uncomfortable PERSON

don't flinch, Sherlock, he might take it as a CHALLENGE

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