Sherlock Holmes (![]() ![]() @ 2012-02-20 23:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | {jo harvelle, {john watson, {molly hooper, {sherlock holmes |
Characters: Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson and the missus Hooper and Harvelle
When: Monday afternoon
Location: Shooting range, New York City
Warnings/Rating: gun play
Summary: Just a little recreational shooting.
Status: Closed. Ongoing.
The thought of spending a nice afternoon shooting things had been spurring Sherlock on in his rather fruitless morning of hunting and gathering in the streets of New York. John had gone off to attend to some business himself and they both knew that subtlety was the key in many endeavours that required 'acquiring' things.
Though the vapid train murderer had since been dealt with, Sherlock had need for something to occupy his hands during the (recently significantly decreased) periods of time in which he spent deep in thought. Which meant he needed a violin. And Sherlock Holmes wasn't the kind of man who just wandered into any old shop and brought any old violin. It had to be good. And precious instruments came at a price. The price was rightly charged to the bank account of Mr. M. Holmes who, fortunately, had a ten year renewal on his banking which meant that 2009 was a perfectly legitimate time to use it. And Sherlock had had his brother's signature down since Mycroft had been old enough to sign his name. It had just been fun persuading the gentleman in the music shop that he was eccentric and upper class and couldn't possibly use a chip and pin machine. Card, check. Formal ID, stolen and check. New violin. Absolutely check.
The case itself was pretty sexy and Sherlock was very pleased. He'd show John later, of course, though he wasn't expecting a vast amount of enthusiasm.
He made his way to the shooting range Jo had picked out for them, signing himself in and affirming that yes, he was already a pretty good shot so no, he wouldn't need any guidance and no, he really didn't want the goggles or the ear...things. Mandatory, though they were. So, grudgingly, he took them, sliding the goggles into his now ridiculously windswept hair and putting the mufflers around his neck. Violin case was checked, coat came off, shirt sleeves (dark grey shirt, he really needed to go shopping for something more colourful) rolled up and hand gun in hand, Sherlock and his violin case went to find Jo.
"Lovely day for it," he greeted her as he arrived at her side, glancing over the gun he had been provided with. He had to put his violin case down at his feet in order to check the weapon over. "I suppose they give all the good ones to the police and the Mafia."