The Filth Wizard 1b/?joe_pike_juniorJuly 6 2010, 06:37:35 UTC
Later on, we eat. Holmes pushes away his meal half-finished and lights another fag. I glance around the room: the gleaming sink, the dirty dishes piled next to it.
"Holmes." I take a deep breath. "Have you thought about taking on another case soon? I'm sure you'd be able to find something, and then things would be a little easier, money-wise." I wonder how long it's been since he was outside.
"All you ever do is harp on at me," Holmes says, taking a drag on his cigarette, his eyes narrowed to slits. He puts in a squeaky Scottish accent. He sounds like my Grandmother. "Get a job, Holmes. Stop snorting so much blow, Holmes, we can scarcely afford it. Clean the old pizza boxes off the toilet cistern, Holmes."
I take a deep breath, chewing my food very slowly. Holmes doesn't deal with anger well. He'll spend the whole night cleaning specks off the television screen. Meanwhile, I can't move three steps in this dump without gathering a dust bunny or an odd sock or an old violin string.
"There was no need for you to collect old pizza boxes," I say. "The entire bathroom smelt like old cheese and steamy garlic."
"Mmm," Holmes says, and I count that a victory.
Just then, as I'm considering how next to broach the 'you're out of work and ankle-deep in madness' subject, Holmes' phone makes a merry little SMS sound. He gets up and fetches it from the kitchen bench. I notice that it's inside a Ziploc bag.
"Oh," he says, and then he stares at the little screen.
"What?" Adler, I think. Or maybe his brother. I hope it's Mycroft. Mycroft send cheques, which are a cause for celebration. After Irene Adler visits, Holmes desperately categorises his carpet shampoos.
"A case," Holmes says, and then he goes back to his bedroom. After a few minutes, the smell of furniture polish floats under the door. Holmes likes to polish when he's in a contemplative mood.
Re: The Filth Wizard 1b/?writerboyJuly 6 2010, 06:58:18 UTC
Poor OCD (but well-written) Holmes! D:
The phone in the Ziploc was the icing on the cake; I live with someone who Ziplocs everything from clothing to loose change so that nothing gets "cross-contaminated". OMG, you captured that vice well. Bravo!
Re: The Filth Wizard 1b/?wheres_walnutJuly 7 2010, 10:49:51 UTC
It is still SHkinkmeme. Chat is weird like that. Sometimes you'll go in and there are a BILLION people, sometimes it will be empty. Apparently it was really slow yesterday, you're the second person I've heard this from.
Re: The Filth Wizard 1b/?cutebutpsycho99July 7 2010, 14:46:30 UTC
*DUG VOICE* HELLO DR. QUACKERS. I AM DUG. I AM A DOG. MY MASTER LOVES YOU AND GIVES YOU CRACKERS. ARE YOU A GOOD DUCK DR. QUACKERS? MY MASTER THINKS YOU ARE.
WHAT'S THAT? OK. WE WILL TELL MEMEFOLK THAT ARCHIVE IS OCCURRING. WHO CAN RESIST A DOG? WAIT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY COLLAR DUCKY DUCK?
ADIEU!NI HAO! HOLA! PLEASE STOP THAT. THANK YOU DUCK.
"Holmes." I take a deep breath. "Have you thought about taking on another case soon? I'm sure you'd be able to find something, and then things would be a little easier, money-wise." I wonder how long it's been since he was outside.
"All you ever do is harp on at me," Holmes says, taking a drag on his cigarette, his eyes narrowed to slits. He puts in a squeaky Scottish accent. He sounds like my Grandmother. "Get a job, Holmes. Stop snorting so much blow, Holmes, we can scarcely afford it. Clean the old pizza boxes off the toilet cistern, Holmes."
I take a deep breath, chewing my food very slowly. Holmes doesn't deal with anger well. He'll spend the whole night cleaning specks off the television screen. Meanwhile, I can't move three steps in this dump without gathering a dust bunny or an odd sock or an old violin string.
"There was no need for you to collect old pizza boxes," I say. "The entire bathroom smelt like old cheese and steamy garlic."
"Mmm," Holmes says, and I count that a victory.
Just then, as I'm considering how next to broach the 'you're out of work and ankle-deep in madness' subject, Holmes' phone makes a merry little SMS sound. He gets up and fetches it from the kitchen bench. I notice that it's inside a Ziploc bag.
"Oh," he says, and then he stares at the little screen.
"What?" Adler, I think. Or maybe his brother. I hope it's Mycroft. Mycroft send cheques, which are a cause for celebration. After Irene Adler visits, Holmes desperately categorises his carpet shampoos.
"A case," Holmes says, and then he goes back to his bedroom. After a few minutes, the smell of furniture polish floats under the door. Holmes likes to polish when he's in a contemplative mood.
I hope to God it's a good one.
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The phone in the Ziploc was the icing on the cake; I live with someone who Ziplocs everything from clothing to loose change so that nothing gets "cross-contaminated". OMG, you captured that vice well. Bravo!
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I'M GLAD YOU LIKE IT. HOLMES IS AS MAD AS A MEATAXE IN EVERY AGE, IT APPEARS.
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SO COMPLETELY.
AND UTTERLY.
ALL ENCOMPASSING...LY.
IN LOVE.
WITH THIS.
+
"Those clothes need to stay there. I've just sprayed them with Febreze."
LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.
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Also, I went into the chatroom once yesterday and once today, and it's been empty both times. Is it still SHkinkmeme?
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And so, I've resorted to tormenting poor Walbutt in LOLCAT SPEAK.
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THERE WILL HOPEFULLY BE FOOTIE LATER TODAY. I'M KIND OF STALLED.
AND LOLOLOLOLOL SILLY SQUIRREL.
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WHAT'S THAT? OK. WE WILL TELL MEMEFOLK THAT ARCHIVE IS OCCURRING. WHO CAN RESIST A DOG? WAIT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY COLLAR DUCKY DUCK?
ADIEU!NI HAO! HOLA! PLEASE STOP THAT. THANK YOU DUCK.
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