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[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

WHO: Sherlock Holmes and OPEN
WHERE: All around the city
WHEN: Anywhere between the 16th of January and the 24th.
WARNINGS: None! Will update if any come up.
SUMMARY: Sherlock is a bit touchy-feely, thanks to Desire, and just can't sit at home any more lest he go absolutely mad with boredom. Catch all for any shenanigans you would like with him. You can also catch him at his flat, if you need to consult him. Seriously, open to everyone, even if we haven't had CR before, because I want it.
FORMAT: Para to set up, then whatever you like~




He'd been obsessing.

Desire promised a distraction and now he has one, though whether it will drive him mad rather than release the boredom, who can say.

He certainly can't stay put anymore. Striding through the city as a tall brooding shadow, just possibly accidentally running into passerby, a constant flicker of tiny white notes running in succession by his head.



[ Feel free to set your tag anywhere! Make sure to put time/place in the subject header. If you want to discuss anything with me first, hit me up by pm or on plurk! :3 ]

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Sunday the 22nd, noon.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Edward had informed Sherlock that their next session would be someplace intimate and quiet, an area of stark solitude. He decided on Sherlock's living quarters. Perfect for concentration, Eddie had argued. You're already deeply aware of the environment, you won't get distracted. He said this all with smiles and a rather coy tone in his voice -- nothing too sinister, but hints of smooth malice and winking mockery. They both knew it was little use to argue this particular point, Edward was a stubborn man.

He had brought a bottle of wine, mostly for himself. It was to aid the entertainment and he couldn't trust another man's taste in pinot noir.

Just upon reaching the block, Edward called through his communicator (not his personal number, never that). I'm just outside, he said. Are you ready?

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

Of course.

He shut the communicator off, headed down to the door. He was dressed, at least, prim and posh as he usually was. That phase of the sulking was over. But the cigarette dangling from his lips was new - a retaken addiction that filled the whole flat. He opened the door as Edward approached, but didn't look directly at him.

"Edward." He gestured inside.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Sherlock's avoidance of eye contact was noticeable immediately, and Eddie couldn't help but be amused. These little things always did entice him, these secret power plays; it was like Sherlock was hiding a message and simply beckoning for Edward to find it. And goodness, who could resist such a challenge?

"Redecorating the atmosphere?" The question was poised between sharp, smiling teeth. "Tobacco adds such a pleasant layer."

He followed in, behind Sherlock, careful to leer about in the most inappropriate of manners. He focused on the detail in the hallway, the room, looking at titles of books, any nicks on the furniture, the placement of any mirrors. The floor, for any well-worn carpet -- evidence of pacing. Little delectable hints.

"Do you mind if I hang my jacket?"

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

"Be my guest." He motioned vaguely to the hook on the wall, where his own coat was hung, as well as John's coat - left in exactly the same place he had been since he had gone. The flat was, of course, nearly a disaster. With only Sherlock living there, everything was left exactly where it was placed, and that was haphazard at best. There was one mirror, only, beside the coats. Three bullet holes in the wall. A vast array of chemical equipment on the table (though he'd long gotten rid of any trace of cocaine).

His Porter wall was gone. All that was left was the single note - Porter - Imagination fixated into place with a hunting knife. Tiny little holes dotted the wall, as if hundreds of other pages should be there, but they were gone - only tiny tiny scraps remained, brushed up on the floor. The books were eclectic and varied wildly, a large number of them in doubles. There were four large gashes in the table, and... A strange, peachy smell, lingering lovely, when one walked by the mantle.

Two chairs, one couch. Sherlock gestured towards the couch. "Make yourself comfortable."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

The hundreds of dotted holes along the wall captured his interest for a moment. His eyes glanced down, noting the wistful scraps. Frustration was a terrible thing, he thought. Boredom and frustration and the overwhelming need to solve them both. Edward made his way around the bookshelf and cut to the mantle, enjoying the wealth of hints. The three bullet holes remained a tribute, something surely John Watson would have fixed where he still here. This was a physical world only of convenience to Sherlock, and the only order was his order.

"Oh, I intend to," he said, strolling past the mantle. "I'm simply taking my -- " He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide and nostrils flared.

The smell of peaches. Sweet, summer peaches.

Edward swallowed. He snapped his head around, his heart pounding. Nothing, no visible trace of Desire, no haunting smile. But it had been here, oh, Eddie was certain of that.

He assumed a seat, on the couch. He wasn't smiling any longer.

"Glad to see I'm not your only company. Wouldn't want you getting lonely."

Friday evening

[trueltning_fury]

There was another tall, brooding shadow haunting the chilly city streets. Geddoe tended to roam most days regardless of whether he had somewhere to go, it was better than staying cooped up indoors. As long as the weather wasn't completely wretched, that is.

He stood out from the crowds he shouldered through in his black and gray leather armor with a sword at his side. People tended to shrink out of his way and let him pass. But even tourists had long ago given up mocking or gawking at him. He just sort of existed in this world, and that was fine.

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

It was habit, of course, to identify people as they walked by, even if they were suddenly highlighted with little glowing white notes.

35 - Vegetarian - grey cat - Indoor office worker

41 - Janitor - rugby player in spare time - child between the ages of 2 and 4

Every person he passed was labeled, unfortunately, for everyone to read. Sometimes a symbol might replace a word - unintelligible - but generally they were completely readable.

And as he came up towards Geddoe, the first that appeared - bright and white and hanging just before the man's face - was Import.

[trueltning_fury]

It was the moment of eye contact that caught Geddoe's attention. Most people shied away from him, avoided looking at him because eyepatch. But for the man approaching to actually look him in the face, he had to be different from those around him. Confident, at the very least, but Geddoe had his suspicious. He did the only thing he could - he slowed his pace and gave a curt nod, a single jerk of his head to acknowledge the gaze directed at him.

Friday the 20th, around lunchtime

[andromynous]

She hadn't spoken to Sherlock since Watson had left, but if their previous interactions had meant anything, she was sure he couldn't have been doing well. That was why when she spotted him on her lunch break (paper sack from home and cafe latte in hand), she went out of her way to cross the street and flag him down with a wave of the bag.

"Mr. Holmes!"

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

He turned at the voice, and instantly recognized her, a scowl coming to his lips before he could suppress it. He stopped, waiting for her to run up, eyes narrowing as she did so. Small little white notes appearing around her, detailing every difference since he had seen her at the clinic.

Name, name... What was her name...

Nope, must have deleted it.

But the note "Flirted with John" did hang in the air near her forehead.

[andromynous]

Well, he hadn't run in the opposite direction. That was -- better than she'd been expecting? Maybe.

She smiled -- genuinely, for her credit -- as she approached.

"I didn't want to say this over the network, but I'm terribly sorry to hear about John leaving. I know you two were close friends." Of course, she's still going to stick around and want to ask Sherlock how he's coping, though.

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

He offered a curt, tight smile. Completely and utterly fake.

"Nature of the Porter." He said flatly. The fact that it had been fifteen days....

[andromynous]

Andromeda pursed her lips briefly before she spoke again.

"Well, yes. It doesn't make it any less unpleasant for the people here, though." She sips her coffee thoughtfully. It's unfortunate she's got that beverage, because she'd offer to take him for some tea otherwise.

20th jan near nightfall

[hacktivist]

Ghost had been waiting (well, lurking, more like) in Sherlock's living room, lit by the glow of his computer as he sifted correspondences, going through his things because--well honestly because he was a little concerned for Sherlock. Knowing what he did about the fictional analogue from his world gave him some insight on their relationship, on how they appeared to depend on one another.

When he heard the other man, he drew his hands out of the computer, shutting it down immediately, and floated over to inspect the wall of mysteries instead. He had bypassed it initially, figuring it would mean less to him, but his interest was genuine enough.

"Hello, Sherlock."

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

[Sherlock's correspondence had been little and less of late. None needed with his work at Rossum, the emails with the police force growing more and more strained.

He knew there was someone in the flat - had seen the gentle glimmer of light from the window. But when he came to the door he found it just as he'd left it. No sign of a lock pick or forced entry... That narrowed down the candidates significantly.

Pushing through the door, he made no effort to hid his presence as he trudged up the stairs. He spoke as he walked into the living room.]

Ghost.

[hacktivist]

I came to see you. How are you faring? [the question was slow, pointed, and though the mask revealed nothing, the body language was concerned]

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

Fine.

[Though even from his tone, it was obvious he wasn't.

He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the hook before slipping off his scarf.

He didn't look directly at Ghost. He was overwhelmed enough just walking through the City's streets, and he tossed himself down on the couch with a sigh. He pressed his hands against eachother - fingertip to fingertip, palm to palm.]

I made a mistake.

[hacktivist]

What kind of mistake?

Today after school? YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, THIS IS HAPPENING

[yelloweyesdarksomething]

[ The Monster was having a no good, dirty rotten very bad day.

He wanted food. Cooked for reals, not the good-hearted but terrible attempts at cooking he made. And so, striding through the City as an actual shadow, he took his umbrella and looked for something to eat. ]

WOO

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

[Sherlock's day was no better, and he was practically smoldering as he walked down the street.

That was, until he saw the umbrella's shadow.

Import. Had to be. But when he looked at it, the only notes that appeared were four white question marks. That was enough to peak his interest, at least for a few seconds. He pulled in front of it and stopped in its path.]

Is the umbrella a necessity to the power, or simply a method of attracting attention to it?

[yelloweyesdarksomething]

[ The Monster starts and looks around at the man. His yellow eyes blink at him. ]

Oh, uh, I'm just supposed to stay under the umbrella when I'm outside. ...Do I know you, mister?

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

[His eyes narrow as he catches Monsters, but again, only four little white question marks appear.]

No.

You're world is entirely different from this one, isn't it? [ Because what is a segue. ]

The 18th, afternoon

[meowminx]

Selina may have complained about errands now and then, but in truth, she liked being out in the city, around other people. Some days she even got her own groceries instead of having them delivered.

Today she was merely out for a walk and some coffee. Of course, as per usual, she was dressed to the nines. But that wasn't that uncommon in the upscale area where she lived.

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

Sherlock, however, stood out like a sore thumb. Not because of how he dressed, or looked - he was, in fact, dressed immaculately. He stood out because of the constant flickering projection of light around him, notes scrolling by as he passed each pedestrian. Have encrypted, half not.

It gave him a bit of a wide berth, people naturally parting to avoid him, and his height didn't help. Tall, dark, and walking through a crowd like Moses into the red sea.

[meowminx]

Shiny things of course always caught Selina's eye. She stopped to watch the light show, intrigued by the notes. Conveniently, right in his path.