A friendship sadly lost?

[caveatwalls]

Who: Sherlock and Slade, later Sherlock and Batman
When: Evening to late night, May 5th
Where: Black Market/Sherlock's apartment
Summary: Sherlock goes out to the Black Market for information gathering and ammunition in order to get his mind off John leaving. Later, he gets a visit that's only partly unexpected.
Warnings: Terse men being terse?

Comments

Black market, for Slade

[caveatwalls]

I am the latest T_T ... also hope you don't mind brackets from me too >>;

[terminates]

[ With all the new arrivals coming in after months of nothing, it would be an understatement to say that the week has been busy. He's had to make changes, adjustments to his daily routine to compensate, especially due to one arrival in particular. Overall, though, things have remained the same. He has a job to do and information to track down.

It's why he's out today, clad in muted colors and a long coat. That he's armed goes without saying. It just isn't readily apparent. ]

It's all good <3

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[Sherlock was acquiring quite the collection of British Army standard issue handguns. Technically, the two he had were the same, from different points in time. The fact that they didn't cause some sort of anomaly surprised him, but the Port was an anomaly, wasn't it?

Regardless, they needed bullets. It was always his excuse for going to the Black Market. His typical ammunition stand was deep in the market, so in walking through it Sherlock was able to distinguish regulars from others, and especially natives from Newcomers. As such, Slade does cross his radar, if only briefly, as there's no real reason to look harder. Yet.]

/latelatelate

[terminates]

[ Being what he is, Slade takes note of everyone within his immediate vicinity. An assassin must always be vigilant, regardless of whether he's on assignment or not. His gaze flickers briefly in Sherlock's direction, sharpening a bit before moving on.

Stopping at a booth, he exchanges a few quite words with the vendor. The man stiffens briefly, then relaxes. A deal was being struck. ]

[caveatwalls]

[It's those sort of interactions that ping on Sherlock's radar. The vendor was one he'd rarely interacted with, as he sold more sophisticated weaponry than a simple handgun. In fact, he rarely saw anyone there. This merited closer observation.

Using the shadows, Sherlock sank his feet into them so he could glide quietly to the next stall over. Questionable antiques-- much easier to feign windowshopping.]

[terminates]

[ Satisfied, the vendor nods once, disappearing into his booth for a minute or two. Returning, he presents Slade with a long, metallic object -- a staff. Slade picks it up, testing the weight of it as he explores the surface with gloved fingers. Looking at the vendor, he questions him again in low tones. The man nods, replying.

Giving the staff another brief perusal, Slade hands it back, apparently. A few more words exchanged, and the deal is finalized. He'll pick up the weapon in another location and make the payment then. ]