anythingtonotbebored started following you
Hello Sherlock
I’m glad you agree.
You never did care for sarcasm, did you?
How are fools over at Queen Mary’s treating you?
Source: victoriasplayground
Source: victoriasplayground
Source: scandalinbakerstreet
OOC:
Sorry for disappearing for a while there, exam times are upon me and I’ve just been feeling drained. But will be on practically every day now!
Don’t hesitate to give Sherlock a buzz.
And to all newcomers:
Sherlock and Irene
When Irene heard Sherlock’s first line, she thought he was trying a feeble attempt to return to their play in some small way. She was going to reply when he grabbed her coat and held it out for to put on. Irene was not terribly surprised, many me did this for her daily before but never Sherlock. He wasn’t like the type to fawn or flatter without cause. With his use of a promise, walk and shopping, was no doubt a way to get her out of the flat. She knew he would try, after all Mrs. Hudson couldn’t see her without questioning it terribly. Mrs. Hudson was not a player in this ongoing game, rules always change, along with circumstance.
Irene smiled gracefully ”Why thank you dear” she slipped into her coat, drawing out the moment of rare generosity, partially because she knew he would want to get it over with as fast as possible. It was easy in her mind to push his buttons, but how to push them and finding the right moment was all part of the game.
Irene starts to walk out the door, calling over her shoulder “I keep my promises, can you say the same?” The sound of her heels clicking down the steps, not bothering to be quiet or discrete. The last sentence was nothing more than a taunt, trying to get him to admit more than he should, trying to get him to show emotions she knows he keeps buried inside. Her never ending quest to prove he isn’t a robot, just a complicated puzzle of a man, that she can crack. Maybe another play would arise from this play, the roles are endless, and the scenarios they could come up with between would amaze anyone. Not that amazing people was something new to either of them, it happened all to frequently but Irene naturally liked it and soaked up the attention. That wasn’t their main difference but it added to it, Irene loved attention, and did things for that purpose. It was her one soft spot, she would keep testing to find Sherlock’s soft spots. One that was evident was John, Sherlock defiantly had a soft spot for him, partly for the company, the companionship, the friendship. Maybe it was something more than that, something she had yet to grasp and witness but for now those were her theories.
“Walk first, groceries later” She said simply “No sense carrying our purchases around London” There was no demanding in her voice, only a calm, she knew Sherlock would agree being a man of logic. There was no sense adding anything more, it would just be wasting energy and time to try and assert dominance over who call the shots here. It was an open playing field, it was simply a matter of who had the best catch. It was as nice as it could be in London, the rain just fading once more, the sun reluctantly peeking out. ”Its a nice day to be dead” Irene stated gazing at the passers-by, a woman in her mid to late thirties wearing some strange form of sweater of a pale blue colour, obviously dyed hair by the small roots beginning to grow on the top of her head, just came for a bite to eat after finishing working on her garden by the grass stains and dirt on her presence, she was simply staring, no rhyme or reason, just staring. Irene put this at the back of her mind as a sad woman imagining how life could have been different for her.
She turned back to Sherlock ”Wouldn’t you agree, you could join me any-time, the company would be nice”
Sherlock noticed her dragging out the moment, of course he did. He didn’t comment on it, only rolled his eyes at it behind her back. Not in an effort to conceal the gesture, but simply because of the logistics of their current situation. As she turned to walk towards the door Sherlock did the same, grabbing his coat and dark blue scarf as he followed her through the door and locked it behind them.
She threw a comment at him over her shoulders and he thought it over for a second. No, this was just baiting. Sherlock was good at keeping his promises, mostly because he never made any. If there was one thing growing up with Mycroft had taught him it was that. It was one of the few conventions that he considered important, Sherlock may not play by the rules of the plebeians he was generally surrounded by, but he did nonetheless have a surprisingly strict moral code that he lived my. Alas, this was just another move in their game.
He did enjoy their game. The theatrics of everything they did, the big and the small. It was a skill to be able to make large gestures as genuine as small ones, such as that which had just taken place at 221b, the domestic scene. Whatever the new stage of Londons streets might bring was yet to be determined, neither of them yet aware as to whether it would be another roleplay of sorts or if they’d stay themselves and focus on the finer details. Regardless, it was sure to be anything but boring.
“Naturally.” Was his only comment as she determined the order of action in their outing. Under different circumstances determining the schedule might have been a priority, but here the alternatives seemed so obvious that anything but would be stupid. Especially since any such attempt would, rather than assert dominance, by it’s very nature prove its absence. No, they were equals of sorts, each of equal regard within their separate fields. Their combined playing field was a landscape ever changing.
The sun was peeking through the clouds, and he left the scarf hanging over his shoulders untied. Sherlock took a quick look around on the street after having locked the door behind him. In a flat opposite sat a man eating a massive cheeseburger. His third burger that day. He made a mental note to point out to his brother that if he wished for his scouts to not die from something high-cholesterol related he should probably provide them with better take-away. The man seemed completely distracted by his culinary break and Sherlock almost shook his head, while their ineptitude was currently to his favour he’d never learn to fully appreciate stupidity. He couldn’t quite stop a small frown from temporarily wrinkle his forehead.
“It’s just as nice a day to be alive, and it’s less constraining. I think I’ll just stay with the living for now.” He purposefully twisted her words from what he assumed to be an invite for more frequent visits into something else, the alternative would be to admit he really rather enjoyed her company. And so soon after her little win he didn’t feel so inclined.
“What part of London do you presently intend to unravel?” There was unmistakable sarcasm in his voice.
Source: anythingtonotbebored
Sherlock and Molly
olly blinked a few times, to be sure she was really standing in front of him, and that hadn’t been dreaming her whole trip here. She expected to wake up in the lab, just after he had left, and find the table empty. To just on with her day like normal, and not show up in the middle of the night outside Sherlock’s door.
“Y-Yes, I mean I-I do plan to come in, if you want me to-” she stammered nervously as she crossed the threshold into his flat. She walked in awkwardly, looking to see if John was there, but the chair was empty and he certainly would have come out to see who was at the door by now. Molly stopped looking around and looked at Sherlock. He looked fustrated, or mad, she couldn’t tell which. She was suddenly starting to think she should have just left it with Ms.Hudson and saved herself from the nervous break down she was having from Sherlock looking at her that way. She quickly dug his phone from her pocket, holding it out to him.
“Y-You left your phone at the lab, and I came by to give it to you” Molly said quickly, hoping he didn’t notice that she had looked at it, or how she felt like she was going to faint. Molly crossed herself, or course he would notice. He notices everything, and nothing, at the same time. She stood there awkwardly, her hand extended with his phone in her open palm. He probably knew how she had gotten here, he was probably going to say something about it, those thoughts and more ran around in molly’s’ mind. She had imagined this going differently, she would confidently give him his phone back and simply leave, of course that didn’t happen. Who was she kidding herself, nothing she imagined ever came true, so why would now be any different. He would make some off-hand remark about how she had come so late and so far to give him his phone back then go and play his violin like she wasn’t here. Molly would then awkwardly exit and the next time she saw him would be when someone was on her table. She subconsciously shook her head slighty, as if to shake all the negative thoughts from her head.
Molly looked into Sherlock’s eyes, looking for something but she wasn’t sure what it was. She was always looking, but as Sherlock said, never truly seeing. She tried her best to see as he did, sometimes she got it right, but those moments where far and few in-between. She could tell he was confused as to her presence, maybe even a bit mad that she had shown up to his flat so late and unannounced. She usually called, but she didn’t even think to this time.Molly was ready for just about anything.
Aah. There it was, something so undeniably obvious that it was shocking he hadn’t figured it out quicker. Incredibly embarrassing in fact, and he was glad that nobody present was likely to throw it back at him. The reason she hadn’t called ahead of her visit was simply because she had no one to call, since calling Sherlock would be little different from calling herself as long as his phone was in her possession. Obvious. So very obvious. How could he possibly have missed that.
On the other hand, it wasn’t necessarily that strange, since Sherlock would normally keep a close eye on his phone and it said something about how distracted he’d been that he’d managed to forget it at the morgue. Especially with current circumstances. Luckily he hadn’t saved Irene’s number on his phone - not the new one, anyway. The old number was still under ‘The Woman’, just as she’d saved it previously. This was why he never bothered with phones unless he had to. They were efficient means of communication, but for other things he preferred to use his brain. It was a much more efficient processing tool after all.
He stood up, setting the news paper down on the now empty seat, and took the phone from her hand, staring at it for a moment before letting his look shift to her. She seemed flustered, and exceedingly so. It wasn’t unheard of for there sometimes be a bit of a stutter in her voice, John normally told him it had to do with sentiment and sometimes added he should be nicer. And since he had nothing better to do this evening, Sherlock decided to follow his absentee flatmates suggestion.
“Thank you, Molly, very nice of you. What do I owe you for the cab?”
Source: ohgollymissmollyhooper
Source: asofter221b
Sherlock and Irene
“Of course not, you always forget the milk” Irene replied glancing to the left “A walk it is then love“
As she looked into his eyes, she knew he was trying to figure out her motive, her reason. He would never find one but always keep searching for it. It was pointless but so many things were, yet they were done anyway. She knew when his posture changed back from his character to his normal stature that once again they had gone to far. They had reached the line never to crossed, only tip toed. She was the one who did most of tip toeing , but it wasn’t that she cared, she lied to do it mostly to see what he would do. How he would react to the situation, how he would get himself out of it. It was another thing she liked to do when she was bored. She guessed their game was over,the curtain drawn, the sheet lifted over the charade. She was only slightly saddened, only because it had become fun, but she was fine with moving on, it was bound to get boring anyway.
They looked at each other, seeing beyond the face, trying to see the words written out on each other face. She knew her pupils were dilated, simply because he was making a note of her eyes, there would be no other reason for it. He wouldn’t try to measure her pulse again, she knew the trick now. Irene knew she had picked a good place to stand, he couldn’t draw anything more from her hidden face. Just how she liked it, him not having a clue. His eyes continued to search with renewed interest, the corners of his mouth twitching with what she guessed was slight annoyance as he came up blank.
She caught the breath he let out, he had been holding it, was that because he was so intently focused on her that he had forgot to or because he had simply forgotten. She didn’t have enough evidence to back any answer exclusively. Irene guessed the phone acrobatics was his was distancing himself from the conversation. A metaphorical bell if you will, as if he needed one. She could tell his smile was faked, she had won this round, he demeanour reflected that. He was having trouble with what to do in the situation. Irene just smiled and waited to see what he would do. She knew their play was over now, no questions of returning to it.
The silence was broken with his statement, he should have been able to guess she didn’t care much for the subject matter, not that she was bored with him around. ”Then Mrs.Hudson will be getting a surprise won’t she?” she replied, moving across from him, glancing at the window. She was facing the door, right beside him. side by side. Where she felt she should be, but knew in her heart she couldn’t be. Not now, maybe not ever, time would tell.
While little changed in Irene’s body language, there weren’t really any major shifts as far as he could tell, her demeanour was nonetheless noticeably different. It was in the minuscule barely noticeable details, the results of a different emotional range being played out. It was instinctual, the knowledge of this shift, but he did not question it. There was nothing left of the woman who had just done his dishes, the character melted of off her like snow on a warm spring day disappeared from the ground. Quickly, and yet the ground appeared no different from before. Of course, in their case the situation was more the other way around. What had been a warm spring day - their pretended domestic bliss had been expressed by uncommon warmth between them - had gone back to become the game they normally played. Not that they were usually frosty, that was extrapolating too far. They were simply far from a married couple and therefore acted nothing like one. It was a very logical step, really. And yet Sherlock couldn’t help but feel as if it had gotten really quite chilly between the two over the few seconds that passed and he wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps it was only by comparison. Perhaps the loss of this round, this charade that he himself had started in response to her words, frustrated him.
She was smug. One could not miss that. No, she didn’t change her posture much or say anything. But it was definitely there in her silence. And her smile. Sherlock was known for being almost annoyingly good at getting the last word, if only because half the time he’d say something and then dash out the door to test his theory. But this was far from the only time when he didn’t - he had grown up with an older brother, after all. He told himself to shrug it off and having glanced at his watch - a gesture easily done discretely when he fiddled with his phone - brought up Mrs Hudson. Irene Adler was not impressed, something she made perfectly clear by dismissing his statement entirely. And yet it was not something to simply push to the side. There were undeniable facts to consider:
Mrs Hudson had seen her before, when she’d decided to simply move into their place for a day or two.
Mrs Hudson was perfectly aware of her passage into the Deadlands.
Mrs Hudson was not a part of their game.
And last but not least, Mrs Hudson was not an absolute moron. Were she to meet or see Irene Adler she would be quite pristinely aware of who she was.
So she had to leave Baker Street. It was that simple. And yet, he didn’t seem quite as appeased by this perfectly logical conclusion as he normally was. Firstly, the Woman was dead. And while he was fully confident in her abilities, being dead did put a damper on ones opportunities of amusement. And while he had no illusions as to his importance or if he was disposable, he imagined she had come to him because under their antagonistic exterior they were after all something resembling friends. Not quite friends, but as close as two people like themselves were likely to be friends. And thus he got no real enjoyment from knowing he must kick her out of the apartment to face boredom. Nor did he by any means wish to face the absolute boredom that was the flat without a case or scientific experiment, or John. And John was working because apparently they had to pay the bills. Dull.
“Oh no she won’t, darling dearest.” It was not a full return to their charade, but the closest he was going to get to sorry for sending her away. Besides, he wasn’t really sending her away, of course. He left her side and walked over to the chair over which her coat hung, grabbed it and held it out for her to step into like the gentleman he never bothered to be. “You promised me a walk. And groceries.”
Source: anythingtonotbebored
Sherlock and Irene
“I wouldn’t dream of it sweety , have fun with your client then” Irene chirped folding the newspaper in half and placing back on the table. “Any challenge is manageable, if you know how to use it to your advantage” She said with a small smile on her face, crossing her legs slightly. She knew they mirrored each other, she had intended it that way. Small things caught Sherlock eyes, she made sure he was paying attention once and a while. She knew he found their acting effortless, and she was sure he was secretly enjoying it. Something to break up the boredom, even something as acting like those that surround them, helped to distract them. Something new, something interesting, something to pass the time.
“Oh, I planned to take a walk in the park then have lunch before picking up the groceries. I have to be back before 3 though, I have a special client lined up” She said as he walked to the window. “Would you like to join me?” she asked, hiding her annoyance at his turned back at her. She knew he was doing simply because he knew she didn’t like it. She left the question open to his imagination, what she asked him to join her with was a secret, she wanted to see if he would pick out the right option, and see if she would be correct in guessing which one he would choose.
She walked slowly over to him, her dress gliding silently across the floor as she came up behind him. Her hand almost touching his shoulders, her invisible touch trailing down his back, along his arms. Silent. She didn’t need to speak for him to know what she was thinking, they could sit for hours, not saying a word, but saying everything at the same time. Many wouldn’t understand, but their relationship was a complicated one, and they were complicated beings.
She breathed in deeply, her hand finally making contacting with his arm as she moved in front of him, blocking his view of the street. She purposely wanted to obstruct his view from anything other than her. She liked the game we were playing, and knowing Sherlock, something would catch his eye outside and he would be off again. Her phone buzzed quickly, she didn’t even hear it as she was looking at him, she felt it. Her hand slipped into her pocket, her eyes not moving, and she didn’t even have to look at the text to know who it was from. A few clicks and once again it was returned to her pocket. She knew he would read into it the detail of her focusing all her attention on him, she decided he would have done that anyway. This was more fun.
She was baiting him, of course. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice. Which must have meant that him turning his back really did annoy her just as much as he’d thought. It was good to know. No one liked feeling ignored, and even though Sherlock was obviously not ignoring her, the gesture seemed to trigger the same kind of annoyance. It was yet too early to conclude with any certainty why, but the result was enough of a success in itself.
But yes, back to the topic at hand. She was baiting him, waiting for him to pick one of the answers she dished out for him. Had this situation been different, he would have simply chosen option C: something that was outside of the playing field as it currently stood. It was the only way to unquestionably win such a scenario, and Sherlock did love to win. But alas that would also mean changing the game, and perhaps giving up any hope on the clues as to her current residence that he may acquire by playing nicely. Clearly he had no choice but to remain within the rules of their impromptu game, even though there had been no such rules established. It was all based on hunches - the uncertainty of it was partly why it was so much fun.
“I don’t do groceries. And I thought you did it with professionalism. But a walk may be nice.” A small flair with his hand as he spoke the last sentence, expressive body language as usually accompanying his completely not bothered tone.
He didn’t notice that she’d walked towards him until she was a step or two away and the dress slid over the corner of a paper pile, giving of the smallest of sounds. His arm fell back t his side. Perhaps it was his talking that had disguised the noise of her moving, perhaps she was simply that quiet. The fact that she had yet to say anything was more telling. There was a tingle down his back, down his arm. A quick shiver. He’d closed his eyes, abandoned the world outside for increased sensory awareness here, in the now. It was merely an urban myth that one would hear better if one closed ones eyes. The capability wasn’t improved, one simply removed the information onslaught from one sense allowing the brain a greater capacity for data mining amongst the ones left. With his eyes closed, he noted the smooth sound of the silky fabric moving as she did, noticed the perfume with increasing intensity. Though no action had been made, he knew better than to question his instincts. Her touch, while never present, was not imagined. He was sure of it. Well, almost entirely sure of it.
And this was were the game they were playing threatened to go too far. Sherlock Holmes was by no means Mr Irene Adler, and this game suddenly appeared to have ends that innately interested him very little. He opened his eyes again, Posture shifting back into his own as a hand landed on his arm and The Woman stepped back into his line of sight, blocking out most other things in what was clearly a very conscious move. Was she gauging him for a reaction? Or did she simply refuse to be ignored? A frown spread on his face, a question clear in his eyes yet never spoken. If only he could figure her out.
A phone buzzed, audible due to the otherwise vast silence filling up the apartment rapidly. Irene picked it up, pressed a few buttons and put it back in her pocket, never once breaking eye contact. Naturally, neither did he. Mutually undivided attention. The slightest shift in expression triggering a similarly minuscule shift in the others face. The air was thick around them, Sherlock found his interest piqued. Her pupils were dilated, but her face was in shadow as she stood between himself and the light from the window - impossible to draw a conclusion. This time she wouldn’t let him check her pulse. He knew her better now, or so he thought, but she was no easier to read in this moment than during their first meeting. He came out blank.
No bell appeared willing to save him, not that he needed saving, he was perfectly capable and the situation was fully in his control. Yep, absolutely, no saving needed at all. He cleared his throat, but didn’t move. His brows furrowed a little, before he took a step back. He pulled his phone from his pocket, threw it up in the air and spun it, discretely letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Put the phone back in his pocket after quickly checking his time. Glancing up at the Woman with an unnecessarily and perhaps not entirely genuine smile. He’d lost this round, but acting unconcerned was crucial in limiting that damage.
He considered for a moment reverting back to the play they’d been putting up before, but decided not to. That moment had passed. And yet, he did not know quite what to do instead, had very little experience with dispelling this kind of tension. Assumed humour would do it, yet seemed unable to think of something amusing to say. The smile shifted into a slightly more serious expression.
“Mrs Hudson will be back soon.”
Something needed to be said, the silence would only hold for so long.
Source: anythingtonotbebored
Sherlock and Irene
Irene watched as he straightened himself, and continued their play, till he came to rest at the door frame. She didn’t know why this acting exercise was still going, perhaps both of them didn’t know. It was just happening, its not that the acting was difficult, Irene had to act everyday, not that it was difficult, she was sure Sherlock could say the same. She almost cracked at the puppy dog eyes, it was convincing but at the same time, looked strange knowing his personality. She decided to not bother with pointing that out, no need for her usual remarks , like how “With those eyes, you could get anything, or anyone” was first thing to pop into her mind. She would show him that she didn’t need to make a sexual reference every 5 minutes, she could control herself, for the most part that is. She cleared the sink and turned around to face him.
“That’s a pity” she sighed with a slight smile “Might, but probably not dear, you know how they are”
Irene leaned against the sink, her eyes meeting Sherlock’s puppy ones. “What a shame, not that it will be hard, they were getting worn out as of late” Her mouth twitched as she tired not to laugh. “Should we have them over for tea one last time? To play with them one last time” her tone playful but not lustful. She was trying hard not keep her usual remarks inside. “Though I think the man sitting outside our flat might need some convincing if I go to fetch them, don’t you think?” She asked tilting her head a bit in the direction of the window.
“We could start paying more attention to the Robinson’s, they have 2 dogs, the poor old things. Dogs always go missing, especially when they never lock their gate.” She said almost absent-mindedly, as she picked up the newspaper sitting on the side-table. She was finding it was taking less and less effort to come up with part of their little charade, adding pieces to their secret play. She began to wonder what it would feel like to play out this game in public. She would hope to try it out, but she is the dead woman, not that it usually stopped her from doing anything. The other snag would be convincing Sherlock, she could say it would be an experiment on human behaviour, recording reactions if certain sentiments when they are playing out the charade and not. It would be interesting to see, something new to distract her, keep her mind occupied. She would mention it, at some point when she felt it was , as they say the best time.
Irene wasn’t sure if she should mention “Children”.It seemed unlikely, as unlikely as the whole game they were playing, that they would both ever have kids even separately. She decided to play it safe for once, keeping with her promise to keep from her usual responses, and let him decide that for himself. For now it was time to just watch the show and enjoy.
Sherlock found himself almost missing the sexualized comments, strangely enough. Not that he enjoyed them, he didn’t, but they were generally clever. And although being far too focused on sex was common, being clever about it and completely disregarding social norms of interaction wasn’t. Sure, people dropped insinuations around them from time to time, but the only occasion where they even neared The Woman’s frequency was during heavy flirting between couples who were recently dating. More than he disliked his admittedly limited capability to answer such comments, he enjoyed being able to see an Irene not quite as bothered by the games she surrounded herself with. It was a strange controversy; on one hand he found himself thinking and enjoying the fact that she could be herself more wholeheartedly around him than most others, on the other he knew for a fact that their game was likely to make her act a character as much as any client ever could. Perhaps to an extent he was projecting - she was one of the people around whom Sherlock displayed very little concern for the supposed rules.
“Ah, yes, our trenchcoated friend. I’m afraid he appears to be a client, honey, and must thus be dealt with in a professional manner.” She was done with the dishes and leaning against the sink, thereby mimicking his body language. Oh, she was good. Very good. He leaned in towards her a little, voice somewhat lower as he continued: “And I do mean one of mine, so don’t run off for that whip quite yet.” A quick wink before pulling back and stretching like a cat. His lack of sleep these last few days was starting to catch up with him, but it was still far from worrisome.
“Tea should be fine, though I believe we should give Mr Jackson a day or two to cool off first. And while I do very much appreciate the gesture, dear, I know how dreadfully dull especially you find the Robinson’s. Mrs Robinson is overwhelmingly plain at best, and Mr Robinson - while an excellent chemist - speaks of little else and redefines uptight.” He glanced at her as she picked up the mornings newspaper, his eyes skimming the headlines. He hadn’t actually bothered reading it, had gotten so used to John reading it and informing him of anything of relevance. One of the conveniences of co-habitation. “Though I do know you love a challenge.”
“There’s always the Barker’s, I suppose, from across the street.” He donned a thoughtful expression, as if the fictional problem at hand really did concern him. Staying in character was done without difficulty, in fact it was almost relaxing. That in turn was of course another utterly strange matter, as Sherlock normally thought of Baker Street as his safe haven from all the playmaking that the outside world consistently demanded of him. Naturally games were played even there, but that was always case related, and there was nothing more true to Sherlock’s nature than solving a good case. This was a game for the sake of a game, and in a sense he was catering to norms that were not his. On the other hand, he was as much mocking them as catering to them, and presumably that made all the difference. It was something to be analysed later, nonetheless, as of now there were too many assumptions and guesses, too few facts.
“By the way, honey, what are your plans for the rest of the day? My client may keep me busy and I’ll probably miss dinner, so where can I hope to find you?” He said it as he was walking back to the window, his voice somewhat aloof and distant, as if he didn’t really need to ask. With his back against the room he focused on the sounds to indicate actions, while hoping that she might give him a clue as to her actual home base in London. He didn’t think that she would have been tricked into it, the idea was silly, she was far too intelligent for that, but she liked games and games were no fun without clues. Besides, she’d indicated earlier that she didn’t like it when he turned his back to her.
Source: anythingtonotbebored
Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. [RP blog]
