Sherlock Holmes (the_apiarist) wrote in makebelievelog, @ 2012-01-23 00:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | john watson (bbc), sherlock holmes (bbc) |
Who: John Watson (BBC) and Sherlock Holmes (BBC)
What: Gathering data.
When: Sunday evening, after this exchange
Where: Common room, E45
Rating/Warnings: 'Hardcore' data gathering (awkward snog), Spoilers
Status: In Progress
The exchange had started innocently enough with a discussion of John's -rather hideous- jumpers that had gotten 'misplaced'. In all honesty, Sherlock didn't have a particular clue as to what might have happened to them, nor did possess even a small pinch of curiosity as to where they might have gone off to. Speaking frankly, the ones that John claimed to have lost were among the more egregious of the significant number in his possession and Sherlock wasn't lying when he believed a service had been done on account of their removal. Though as simply as the conversation had begun, the strange failure to erase feature on the phones and such had quickly turned their initial conversation on its head. Sherlock hadn't quite expected the turn of events and was currently in the common room as bewildered about what had happened now as he had been at the inception of the sudden turn.
It had begun when his phone refused to delete 'John, where are you going?', a simple phrase that seemed uncharacteristically needy to the one who had written it. He had no idea how John had registered the line. At that point in the exchange, they were starting into a row over some woman in the castle and John's sudden -and wholly unwelcome (on Sherlock's part, though he wasn't quite in the mood to completely admit that, even now)- flirting. He would prefer to be able to confidently admit that he was under some influence, that his rather petulant outburst was the result of something other than what he would have to concede to be jealousy. It was a strange feeling, that.
At first, though the spark of the conversation had been completely genuine, his awkward attempt at what could be defined as flirting was more his stubborn refusal to let John leave the room. He had truly been working on something that he would have wanted John to help him with; he had been trying again to attempt to sort out this castle, an escape, an explanation, and he needed John's input. And there was this 'Basil the mouse detective' that placed an unsettling feeling right in his very core, though he honestly hadn't put much effort into exploring the idea, as the idea of a cartoon mouse detective hardly seemed a prudent thing to focus on when he had both cases from the local (and more incompetent group than the Yard) police force and his and John's abduction, along with the added questions of how John could possibly be from his future and his quietly haunting suicide. Sherlock's honest intentions were clearly clouded by his emotions; pale, pathetic things he had proven to be a nuisance when he had met Irene, had proven to her (and he had thought, to himself) that caring wasn't an advantage, yet there he was on a public message board acting like a complete fool because some insignificant woman had threatened the one thing that he genuinely cherished, even if he wasn't as expressive about it.
The inability of the phone to properly delete text had driven the two of them down a path neither one could have possibly expected. While Sherlock had painted himself into a corner with John about the idea of 'snog' (which is still a completely off-putting concept, regardless of what John would say to the contrary), it was quite the last thing on his mind. Honestly, he was unsure (unsure, the very concession unsettling) how to broach the 'elephant in the room,' as the phrase went. Sherlock, clearly, found emotions a hindrance, had tried, and succeeded, for years to live without them, never the worse off for it: emotions got in the way. People couldn't see things clearly, understand them properly, just think, because of them. How many cases had he investigated where the very heart of the crime could be aptly defined by the term 'crime of passion'? Having control over what he felt had never served him wrong.
Irene Adler, while he had tried to think of her as the perfect proof for the reason that feelings (caring, love) were more a barrier, she turned into something that changed him. There was something about her that had affected him, something about having known her that prevented him from completely ever letting himself completely recede as he had before. The case in Devon had further pointed out this fact to him; his fear, his irrational anger with John, his albeit distanced admission. They were all facts that he couldn't forget, evidence that there was more to whatever it was between the two of them than either had ever been able to admit.
John wasn't anything to Sherlock that could fit within the normal confines of people's relationships with each other. There wasn't a label in any language that he'd ever known that would be applicable to the seemingly unassuming man, that simple, straight-forward army doctor who should be so boring. John Watson should have been like everyone else, but he had seemed to prove Sherlock wrong in every conceivable way. He was the most loyal person Sherlock had ever known, the most confident, able to stand in someone else's shadow and never crumble, the strongest, but when Sherlock could think to predict him, John would surprise him again.
This was why Sherlock was currently writing a small piece on the violin, a nervous habit, a distraction, as he tried to figure out a way to convince John that this gathering of data is something that should be postponed (maybe indefinitely, perhaps not), that he wanted to simply learn everything he could about John, knowing he could never get bored, the space in his mind for it clear and permanent, awaiting anything he could add.
If one could put his jumbled thoughts into a simple sentence, a concise and clear form, Sherlock Holmes had undeniable feelings for one Dr John Watson that superseded any physical representation of intimacy, those emotions which he would prefer to explore than the proper definition of 'snogging'.