Fill: Connection part 1a
anonymous
November 9 2011, 05:12:43 UTC
It was, not surprisingly, a case that drove Sherlock to it. He was, as he often admitted, happily married to his work; baser instincts like lust were just that, base. Beneath him. But hearing Sally Donovan’s snort of laughter, seeing the quickly-suppressed smirk on Lestrade’s lips when his logic stumbled over the sexual motive of a murder suicide hammered the point home. Sherlock tolerated their scorn, but he would not allow himself to be mocked by them. Anderson’s smug, disgusting, knowing face haunted him. Anderson understood sex. Even he had seen the connection that Sherlock had missed. It was unacceptable.
The consulting detective typed out the text quickly (efficiency, not nerves, he commented silently to his skull) and sent it to Mycroft, not bothering to initial at the end. The message itself would be enough blackmail material for his brother; he wanted some plausible deniability that he’d sent it. (His skull did not point out the obvious, that someone impersonating him would surely have adopted his signature texting style, which is why he greatly preferred the skull’s company to a vast majority of the people he’d met).
Mycroft’s response, that he will send over a suitable partner to relieve him of his virginity at 8pm the next evening, came quickly; Mycroft either had an appropriate partner ready for Sherlock before he’d asked, or he was incredibly confident in his ability to find one within twenty-four hours.
Sherlock didn’t like the implications of either. He hoped, rather counterintuitively, that Mycroft would fail to produce someone fitting, just so he could lord his brother’s failure over him. --------------
The consulting detective typed out the text quickly (efficiency, not nerves, he commented silently to his skull) and sent it to Mycroft, not bothering to initial at the end. The message itself would be enough blackmail material for his brother; he wanted some plausible deniability that he’d sent it. (His skull did not point out the obvious, that someone impersonating him would surely have adopted his signature texting style, which is why he greatly preferred the skull’s company to a vast majority of the people he’d met).
Mycroft’s response, that he will send over a suitable partner to relieve him of his virginity at 8pm the next evening, came quickly; Mycroft either had an appropriate partner ready for Sherlock before he’d asked, or he was incredibly confident in his ability to find one within twenty-four hours.
Sherlock didn’t like the implications of either. He hoped, rather counterintuitively, that Mycroft would fail to produce someone fitting, just so he could lord his brother’s failure over him.
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