Re: FILL: The New Hire - Rated T - Part 3/10-ish?
anonymous
November 11 2010, 23:26:23 UTC
“I said don’t interrupt.” Sherlock let his glare linger on David for a second before he continued. “And as for you, the bags under your eyes are worse than hers. The spill on your tie seems moderately fresh, and you’re paler than I recall from a few days ago.” He motioned towards his cheekbone. “And you’ve got some marker on your face.”
David blinked, unable to think of a response. In what he hoped was a casual manner, he grabbed a tissue.
“You were out late last night,” continued Sherlock. “Presumably with Finchy. Had a few drinks, made an ass out of yourself, probably came back here because it was closer than your house. Since you seem to be the only one in this office to give a damn about that thing, you must have moved it. Probably used it as a pillow.” Sherlock smirked. “Bit odd, a grown man needing to sleep with a stuffed animal, but you needed some sort of comfort, and you certainly weren’t getting it from Finchy. Is that his marker scribble on your cheek?”
David spat into the tissue and scrubbed furiously at his cheek.
“Your un-markered cheek--the left one, the one you’re scrubbing--is pink. My guess? You hit on some poor woman--left handed, as the mark’s on your left side, and, judging by the dark bruising by the jaw, she had a wedding ring--and it went wrong. You drank more, passed out at the bar, was awakened and sent on your way by the bar staff, and you stayed here for the night.”
David pulled the tissue into a sweaty palm. He said nothing, but simply stared at Sherlock, his look a mix of rage and bewilderment. Eventually, he tossed the tissue aside and said, “I think we can skip the training and just let you begin.”
David blinked, unable to think of a response. In what he hoped was a casual manner, he grabbed a tissue.
“You were out late last night,” continued Sherlock. “Presumably with Finchy. Had a few drinks, made an ass out of yourself, probably came back here because it was closer than your house. Since you seem to be the only one in this office to give a damn about that thing, you must have moved it. Probably used it as a pillow.” Sherlock smirked. “Bit odd, a grown man needing to sleep with a stuffed animal, but you needed some sort of comfort, and you certainly weren’t getting it from Finchy. Is that his marker scribble on your cheek?”
David spat into the tissue and scrubbed furiously at his cheek.
“Your un-markered cheek--the left one, the one you’re scrubbing--is pink. My guess? You hit on some poor woman--left handed, as the mark’s on your left side, and, judging by the dark bruising by the jaw, she had a wedding ring--and it went wrong. You drank more, passed out at the bar, was awakened and sent on your way by the bar staff, and you stayed here for the night.”
David pulled the tissue into a sweaty palm. He said nothing, but simply stared at Sherlock, his look a mix of rage and bewilderment. Eventually, he tossed the tissue aside and said, “I think we can skip the training and just let you begin.”
Sherlock smiled. “Wonderful.”
-=-=-
Reply
Leave a comment