entranceway | [Accidental Video]

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[Accidental Video]

[The problem with science is sometimes it can take too long. There's time in the middle to be idle, time to kill and no deaths to find interest in. There is simply so much time to just think on the things he can't forget and ruminate on all his failures. With an audience, Sherlock's narcissistic, arrogant, antagonistic attitude is neigh unstoppable but alone he is simply quiet, ghosting around his room in his dressing gown with a sullen expression on his face.

He picks up his violin and starts to play near the windows looking out, the sad melody finally completed as he expresses himself in the only way he really knows how.]

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[Sherlock nods, listening while watching.]

I often wonder what people with far simpler minds spend their time considering. Can't say I'm impressed but you seem to at least value intellectual comprehension on par with whether or not we have milk.

Most of my thoughts are on the work; if not a current case then past ones. Make sure things are sorted well in my mind palace. Mental maintenance, really. Like defragmenting a hard-drive.

[John begins fitting the gun back together, once again cleaning over the parts each time they're clicked or screwed in.]

That's fascinating... Should have figured your mind palace would need reorganizing and the like. I did look into that memory technique, the... method of loci, I think, when you first mentioned it. I can't even imagine having that much control over my thought process. Yours seems even more advanced then what I read about, too.

Well, I've perfected it. I'd teach you but... well, you'd only be able to use it here and this place is not the most intellectually diverse of locations. You could remember most pertinent things here without the aid.

I'd much rather spend the time teaching you to type correctly.

[No one types like that anymore, John. No one. Not even five year olds.]

[John snorts, snapping more of the gun back into place.]

I type just fine, thank you very much. It just takes me a bit longer then you to write things.

Yes, by the time I've asked you to relay in text an important bit of information, I could very well be dead.

[.. okay, that's unfair. Never mind.]

I mean to say, it's inefficient. And it's not as though it is difficult to learn proper typing technique. Mankind has been teaching its administrative assistance to type since the age of the typewriter.

[John purses his lips at that first comment, 'a bit not good' written all over his features, but the detective backpedals on his own.]

What, and you--you, Sherlock Holmes, the man who goes into boredom driven jitters minutes after a case is over--want to spend the time to teach me to type properly?

[He tests the spring load of the gun with a quick snap of his wrist, setting the clean gun aside, next to the cartridge of bullets.]

This doesn't sound promising.

Edited 2012-05-20 00:25 (UTC)

Believe me, had I anything better to be doing, I'd being doing it. I don't, however. Quite obviously in fact. May as well work on your shortcomings as well.

[John opens his mouth to argue again, but then snaps it shut with a click of teeth. It's true, Sherlock doesn't have much to do around here, and John feels a twist of guilt in his gut for it, despite having no responsibility to entertain the detective.

Still, even if it called for a bit of humbling and humiliation on his part, at least conceding to the lessons would give Sherlock something to do, right? The doctor sighs.]

Alright, demanding sod. 'Fix' me, then.

[Sherlock smirks and gets up, getting a laptop from the closet as he waits for John to clear off a space. He sits it down in front of John and looms behind him, grabbing his hands by the wrists and laying them on the keys before sliding his hands to cover his.]

Very simple, left pinky to pointer, it's A-S-D-F and for the right, pointer to pinky, it's J-K-L-;. Feel the little ridges?

[The tips of his fingers line up with the keys Sherlock names, and he feels the small ridges brushing against his skin. Skin that is suddenly hyper aware, noticing each flex of Sherlock's long pale fingers over his and the detective's presence against his back. John is suddenly very happy the other man can't see his face, even though he's positive his flush's heat is permeable through his shirt and jumper.]

...Oh, Is that what those ridges are for? I always wondered...

[Sherlock likes having an excuse to be this close.]

So for once you observed but failed to question the relevance. Fantastic, John. Let's try to go a step further in the future.

Now, use your pinky to hold down Shift and let's try your name.

[John snorts at the jab, but his frown is only one of concentration as he reaches his pinky for the shift key, his other fingers flexing under Sherlock's, caught in an attempt to continue his habit of raising them all off the keys as he types. But under the gentle pressure of the detective's hold, he keeps them in place, holding down the shift key and pushing his right index finger against the 'J'. He has to lean forward to figure out where to 'O' is around his posed hands, along with the 'H' and the 'N' and when he sits his back bumps against Sherlock's front, and he can feel a rush of the other man's breath against his hair.]

Sorry. Uhm, Was that right? I'm supposed to use certain fingers for certain keys...

[Sherlock leans forward till they're almost cheek to cheek so he can spy his hands.]

You're supposed to use the ones that naturally can reach the keys from the starting position. My name next.

...Starting position. Right. Okay.

[He glances at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, breath stuttering out of him at the shapes blurred by their proximity.]

'S' first then... that's here...

[He mutters to himself, pressing the keys down as he recalls where they are. His hand slips on the E-R combo, switching them around, causing him to curse and try to lift his hand to find the delete button with his index finger.]

[Sherlock's fingers slide to the outside of his as he tries to move them himself, sliding back down to hold his wrist and with his thumb against his pulse. He slides John's hand correctly with his fingertips still pressed to his knuckles.]

Slow as you must. These are the building blocks of speed, not the finished product.

[John's hands freeze as Sherlock's run over them, and, unbidden, they lift momentarily off the keys in indulgence of the sliding touch. When he catches himself, he tries to make it look as if he was reseting his hands in the starting position, attempting to joke it away.]

And here I thought the whole idea was to make me type faster.

[The doctor attempts to type 'Sherlock' again, fingers slow and steady this time, even if his pulse flutters under the aforementioned man's fingertips.]

Eventually, yes.

[He can feel his pulse fluttering under his thumb and eases off slightly from his hands.]

Am I making you uncomfortable?

No.

[He breaths, quickly. Then fumbles for more words, something a bit less demanding, conspicuous.]

No, I'm fine. Stay.

[John turns his head just so, trying to catch a glance of Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, a sheepish smile on his lips.]

...I'm... uh, still not good with keeping my hands in place, after all.

[Sherlock nods but slides away, moving his hands to the back of his chair instead.]

That's what the ridges are for. They'll help remind you when your hands are in correct starting position. After that it's simply building muscle memory as to where the letters are located.

Edited 2012-05-20 18:42 (UTC)

[Winces as the detective steps away, but plays it off with a laugh, flexing his hands anxiously at the lack of gentle weight over them]

Right. So now I've just got to memorize how to type this way. That shouldn't take very long...

[Sarcasm, obviously.]

Takes years of practice.

[He gives his arm a pat.]

But, we're going to spend forever here so there's plenty of time.

[John blinks, glancing back at the detective and then at the keyboard in front of him as if it were a hazardous device. Returning his gaze to the detective, half turning in his seat to do so, John arches an eyebrow at the other man.]

You really think we'll be here that long?

[Sherlock shrugs]

It's statistically unlikely but a man can hope. Though events need to become more interesting if that happens.

[John licks his lips thoughtfully, lowering his gaze to laptop once again.]

I hope so too. As odd as this place is.

[Chuckles.]

You can be insufferable when you're bored. Almost makes me wish Moriarty would try something.

[That earns John a very large, pleased smile. John is wishing death and mayhem for his delight. It's nice to come out on top of his moral backbone. Sherlock happy > peace on Earth. Sherlock will take that any day.]

Oh, John. You and me both. Still, he's not the only one who can cause mischief.

[Sherlock looks over at his science supplies. The virus is perhaps complete. It just needs testing.]

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