i want to walk on your wavelength
WHO: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson ( sh_consulting and drpsychosomatic )
WHERE: Sherlock's MAC flat
WHEN: Backdated to Friday, directly after this conversation on the roof.
WARNINGS: Sherlock not being snarky for once...? oh wait no that will probably happen too.
SUMMARY: Sherlock takes John back to his MAC flat to give him the rundown on life in the city, and maybe just to satisify a little bit of his curiosity about the man.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, but whatever after that!
Sherlock hadn't looked behind once to see if John was following him. He assumed the man could keep up, especially now that he had overcome that limp, and besides he wanted to make sure that he got into the flat with at least a couple minutes head start.
No matter how well John Watson knew him, Sherlock did not mean to allow him to find a certain set of experiments that he had been working on... So when he arrived at the door, he opened it immediately and strode straight to the table, tipping the two packets of white powder that had been there into his pocket.
The flat, of course, was distinctly him. He had been in the City for a month now, and it showed: stacks upon stacks of books, loose papers, and a haphazard chemistry set that took up half the table.
On the windowed wall was a large bulletin board, absolutely covered with information. Mostly covered in photographs, newspaper clippings and handwritten notes, it would slowly become obvious that everything on the board was about imPorts. Each import had an individual space, but in general they were organized in groups - the 'worlds' that they originated from, as far as Sherlock could make them out. Each world was linked together via coloured strings of yarn. There were, of course, many imports who had no connections at all, and even more who had no connections, but a word or name written under their photograph with a question mark. Unproven links.
The middle of the board had the word 'PORTER' written in all caps, with another note right below it that read 'Imagination?' and had been tacked onto the board with a hunting knife.
In the very upper right corner of the board was a special spot, where there lay a picture of himself, alone, and a crude
drawn picture of Watson himself - both of which were linked to two other men who shared their names...
He cleaned a couple other things, almost nervously, taking a book off the chair and pushing papers around aimlessly. Finally he turned, taking the scarf off and draping it over the back of the chair.
"Well. Here we are. It's no Baker St, but..."
WHERE: Sherlock's MAC flat
WHEN: Backdated to Friday, directly after this conversation on the roof.
WARNINGS: Sherlock not being snarky for once...? oh wait no that will probably happen too.
SUMMARY: Sherlock takes John back to his MAC flat to give him the rundown on life in the city, and maybe just to satisify a little bit of his curiosity about the man.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, but whatever after that!
Sherlock hadn't looked behind once to see if John was following him. He assumed the man could keep up, especially now that he had overcome that limp, and besides he wanted to make sure that he got into the flat with at least a couple minutes head start.
No matter how well John Watson knew him, Sherlock did not mean to allow him to find a certain set of experiments that he had been working on... So when he arrived at the door, he opened it immediately and strode straight to the table, tipping the two packets of white powder that had been there into his pocket.
The flat, of course, was distinctly him. He had been in the City for a month now, and it showed: stacks upon stacks of books, loose papers, and a haphazard chemistry set that took up half the table.
On the windowed wall was a large bulletin board, absolutely covered with information. Mostly covered in photographs, newspaper clippings and handwritten notes, it would slowly become obvious that everything on the board was about imPorts. Each import had an individual space, but in general they were organized in groups - the 'worlds' that they originated from, as far as Sherlock could make them out. Each world was linked together via coloured strings of yarn. There were, of course, many imports who had no connections at all, and even more who had no connections, but a word or name written under their photograph with a question mark. Unproven links.
The middle of the board had the word 'PORTER' written in all caps, with another note right below it that read 'Imagination?' and had been tacked onto the board with a hunting knife.
In the very upper right corner of the board was a special spot, where there lay a picture of himself, alone, and a crude
drawn picture of Watson himself - both of which were linked to two other men who shared their names...
He cleaned a couple other things, almost nervously, taking a book off the chair and pushing papers around aimlessly. Finally he turned, taking the scarf off and draping it over the back of the chair.
"Well. Here we are. It's no Baker St, but..."