( voice test ; canon: elementary )

[cogitates]

It's perfectly reasonable to remain silent while you-- [Handwave.] Dilly about on this pointless escapade.

Regardless of the the fact I'm in your head, you could not possibly think you know enough of anything-- let alone me -- to continue this in any accurate form.

In lieu of not adhering to my request, you are met with a resounding silence.

[A pause. Because this is quite the opposite. He exhales, giving an annoyed look.]

Obviously that does not include-- [Another gesture to encompass this place.]

This.

Comments

[designates]

[ the kind that doesn't take kindly to being picked apart. he's decided to attempt looking at the other man, but has so far only brought his gaze up to look at Sherlock's shoes. ]

You have a very low opinion of them. Or an unusually high one of yourself.

[cogitates]

[Which is all the more interesting. Sherlock crosses his arms and smiles back.]

I know my own intelligence. And I know hers. It's a fact, not opinion.

[designates]

All facts were opinions at some point. [ maybe yours still are, Sherlock. but he's not here to dispute your intelligence. he can hear the way the words curve around the other man's smile, like forcing putty through a crescent-shaped hole. ] When a racehorse refuses to leave the stable, it doesn't take long for the owners to retire them.

[cogitates]

Then I can retire to my work. Which I very much enjoy.

[designates]

You're the horse, not the owner. Retirement is what they say it is. Could be your work. Could be something worse.

[cogitates]

I go back home, solve murders. Something I suspect you do. [He gestures at him.]

[designates]

I... [ flicking his eyes up to meet Sherlock's gaze for all of a half second before looking away. he forces a smile. ] ...wear a lot of hats. Whatever's appropriate for the occasion.

[cogitates]

And one of those hats catches killers. Much like myself.

Pleased to meet you. [He links his hands behin his back.]

[designates]

I don't know you, and I don't know anything about you, but I know I'm nothing like you. And you're nothing like me. You wouldn't want to be; trust me. But sure, nice to meet you too.

[ well at least he isn't trying to shake his hand. for that, he holds the smile a little while longer than he intended to originally. ]

[cogitates]

You'd like to think that. I would, too, really. But we both know how abnormal we are, the difference in our brains. You don't know anything about me, because you're choosing not to look. It's why you don't-- look me in the eye. Perhaps a form of autism, but I suspect an atypical form.

You don't want to know me, because you're afraid of what you'll find.

[Oh, should he have not said that. Woops. Sherlock doesn't care about feelings.]