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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...Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself.

[But John is grinning, despite the slight pinch between his eyebrows. Wonderland is different then home. Wonderland is different now that Moriarty is here and John is different since watching his best friend jump to his death. His rigid morals, steadfast back in the familiarity of London, are quite tempted to waver here. It would be justified, he's starting to tell himself, and the rules here aren't the same as back home.

He wonders if that's adaptation, or a failing on his part.]

One of us is certainly rubbing off on the other. People will be appaled to know which.

....

[John wrinkles his nose, then folds his arms and flicks one of his hands dismissively, dropping his voice a few octaves.]

Well, people are idiots.

[His mouth twitches with poorly bitten back mirth, very much ruining the imitation.]

[Sherlock eyes him with uncertainty for a moment until he realizes that was an impression of him! And a terrible one at that! Well... not terrible... but is that really what John thinks he looks and sounds like?

Two can play at this game.

Sherlock walks up behind him and gets him in a headlock.]

Think you're clever, do you?

[John all but yelps in surprise at the mock attack, though the noise is twisted in with a shocked laugh, and he braces his hands against the arm around his neck.]

Quite clever. The most clever. I'm the definition of clever.

[It's hard to keep up the mocking deepness and cool of his voice while biting back laughs and having his throat pressed lightly against the detective's arm.]

Edited 2012-05-21 20:06 (UTC)

What was that? It sounded like 'I want you to wrestle me to the ground'. Usually I ignore subtext but if you insist!

[He does his best to drag John sideways out of his chair.]

Ack, no no no...! Wrong, wrong...!

[Even his protests sound juvenile and fake, and his leg kicks out as he's dragged off the chair, catching on it and nearly knocking it over. It's only because he's off balance that Sherlock has any sort of a chance in pulling him about, and he tries to gain purchase through his shoes, causing the souls to squeak. His weight falls heavily against Sherlock's slighter frame.]

You hear but you don't listen! I said nothing of the sort...!

[Sherlock groans under his weight but tries to wrestle his way out and on top to pin him.]

I listen just fine. This is just one of my bad days!

[Sherlock does have a lot of hard angles on him, and John hits quite a few of them accidentally as he squirms out of the detective's hold, attempting to turn and hook a leg over the other man to pin him.]

Ooh, bad days huh? Still, winning against me would be--

[He gets an elbow in his ribs and gasps]

--terribly ambitious of you.

Lucky for me, then, that I'm the ambitious sort!

[He concedes the leg battle for one of arms and hands, using his larger hands to try and grab and pin John's wrists.]

Don't make me pull rank on you. I'm a doctor and an army captain and my orders are absolute!

Edited 2012-05-22 02:47 (UTC)

[His hands flex under Sherlock's hold, testing it as the detective get's one pinned so John slips, goes down on his side and drags the other with him, in return pinning the other's hips with his leg.

He tries to gasp a response, but he's burst out into breathless laughter. They're two grown men, and they're grappling about like children.]

[Sherlock can't hold it together with John laughing and bursts out into a deep chuckle.

He never got to behave like this as a child. It's fantastic. John is fantastic. He will steal a thousand ashtrays for the man.]

If there was a point to all this, I've long forgotten it.

[It's hard to talk around a laugh but he likes the way smiling hurts his face.]

[John wraps his free arm, the one not in Sherlock's grasp, around his own stomach, which is aching from the force of his laughter. Sherlock is so brilliantwonderfulamazing, somehow still able to get wrapped up in this foolishness. That they're able to act like such idiots around one another.]

Me too. Not exactly a bad thing, I suppose.

[He says between gasps for breath, face flushed.]

...Do I really sound like that when I pull rank?

Edited 2012-05-22 03:45 (UTC)

Not really. Well... sort of.

[He lets him go, not in a hurry to untangle but not needing to hold him steady. His eyes are a bit moist from laughing. It's never like this with anyone else.]

You become rather entitled when you're pulling rank is all. Hardly a bad thing. I put it in my top five, really.

[John has seen Sherlock laugh, far more then anyone else could probably claim. But he had never been this close, nor had they lingered in each other's presence after simply letting the laughter die off into bemused, affectionate silence. He can see the tears of mirth that cling to Sherlock's eyelashes.]

Top five, huh? Top five what?

[Sherlock isn't even in a hurry to get up off the floor. This is fine. Better than fine. He needed this.]

Top five memories of you.

...You have a list of the top five memories you have of me.

[His breath feels short again for another reason, emotions tightening his chest. And still, his lips quirk, awe wavering on the edges of his expression.]

...What else is on it?

Rather indulgent of you.

[That's fine. He likes to indulge John.]

Our first case. When you punched the superintendent. Buckingham Palace. The swimming pool. Not in that order, mind you. I rearrange them a lot. Depends on which aspect of your nature I find the most agreeable at the time of reflection.

[John shifts as the list is named, their knees bumping.]

...Buckingham Palace. The Study in Pink case. Bond movie night. The few times we sat down for breakfast together between cases.

[Licks his lips nervously, ears pink.]

The first night I had nightmares and you started playing the violin.

[He smiles sheepishly.]

I know you didn't ask for it, just figured I'd reciprocate your list.

[Sherlock chuckles as he rolls his eyes.]

Bond night? Breakfast? I'm more extraordinary than that, surely. I seem to remember being rather disagreeable for the movie marathon. You chose that as a favorite? I'd hate to hear your worse memories of me.

And who's to say I played the violin because of your nightmares? Might have just been a coincidence. I play at all hours after all.

It probably was a coincidence. Still, it was nice.

[John shoves lightly at the other with the last strays of weak playfulness from before.]

Hey, my list, my choices. Other memories are great too, you just kind of... start thinking of the mundane, everyday things when a person is suddenly gone.

[He smiles. Only the first time was coincidence. He doesn't say so but his smile hopefully says he wasn't so unaware of the benefits it gave John. He swats at his hands. Stop pushing~]

I'm to be remembered as mundane? This is why we have to stay here forever.

[John doesn't comment on it, but that knowing smile solidifies his secret assurance that it was in fact at least partially intentional each of the times he'd jerked awake with a cry, only to hear soothing chords of music lulling him back to sleep where moments ago he was sure he'd never relax again.

He pulls his hands back, chuckling.]

Oh, don't worry. Only by me. Your reputation is ensured, otherwise.

What good is that? Yours is the only opinion of me that matters.

[He rolls over on his back, hands over his face.]

Uhg, all my genius and it's that human, blog persona you write about that lives on. Now I know how my literary counterpart felt. And I did so well to impress you!

[John rolls onto his stomach, propped up on his forearms, snorting at Sherlock.]

Woe is you, hm? And here I thought my praise was starting to get repetitive.

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