oh everybody's starry-eyed
[Futility!Verse. For elegantinmind.]
[Eames had spent most of the morning wandering the overly large house, trying to find something to occupy his thoughts with. Not wanting to take up too much of Arthur's time, he'd been picking books up and discarding them in seperate places when they had failed to take up the thin threads of his concentration. Eventually he had resettled in the kitchen, Sherlock pressing his wet doggy nose against the wide glass doors and sighing every so often. The weather is nice enough that Eames can feel it calling him, the slightest pale white clouds scattered across the sky. He watches the dog mildly for a bit, before flickering his gaze to the grass outside, and the lake that lays further on. He pulls a face for a moment, before sliding out of his stool and crossing the room to the counters.] Shall we surprise your daddy, Sherlock? Drag his pale American arse outside so you can have a bit of a run about.
[Sherlock seems to think this is the perfect opportunity to start running round the kitchen, and Eames laughs lightly, deciding to put together as much of a picnic as he can, boiling the kettle so that he can fish out the old flasks. It doesn't take long before he's got a small collection of sandwiches and whatever groceries he can reasonably fold up in tinfoil and tuck into the little basket from the pantry. Then it's just left for him to find Arthur.]
[Eames had spent most of the morning wandering the overly large house, trying to find something to occupy his thoughts with. Not wanting to take up too much of Arthur's time, he'd been picking books up and discarding them in seperate places when they had failed to take up the thin threads of his concentration. Eventually he had resettled in the kitchen, Sherlock pressing his wet doggy nose against the wide glass doors and sighing every so often. The weather is nice enough that Eames can feel it calling him, the slightest pale white clouds scattered across the sky. He watches the dog mildly for a bit, before flickering his gaze to the grass outside, and the lake that lays further on. He pulls a face for a moment, before sliding out of his stool and crossing the room to the counters.] Shall we surprise your daddy, Sherlock? Drag his pale American arse outside so you can have a bit of a run about.
[Sherlock seems to think this is the perfect opportunity to start running round the kitchen, and Eames laughs lightly, deciding to put together as much of a picnic as he can, boiling the kettle so that he can fish out the old flasks. It doesn't take long before he's got a small collection of sandwiches and whatever groceries he can reasonably fold up in tinfoil and tuck into the little basket from the pantry. Then it's just left for him to find Arthur.]