You Know It All by Heart [Closed]
Characters: Tear Grants and Sherlock Holmes
Content: Tear has a request for the clever detective.
Setting: Sherlock's quarters
Time: Late afternoon
Warnings: None expected~.
Tear had hoped not to rely on Sherlock's expertise when it came to the investigation. However, seeing how he possessed more experience than she did, it would be foolish to continue trying to solve it herself. Regardless, she couldn't help the slight concern that thrummed soundly against her chest, the clear reminder of the potential dangers involved. She wasn't a masochist by any means, but when it came to any harm befalling the crew, she preferred to be the only person shouldering it. With others tangled in the situation, there was a higher chance of an unpleasant factor affecting their well-being. Yet, as much as she thought about it, she consistently ended with the same result.
She needed assistance when it came to the mystery that lingered within the Silvana.
No matter how much effort she placed into contemplating the matter, no matter how much effort she placed into gathering evidence, the facts didn't change. She simply didn't have the experience required of solving the issue fast enough. Even if some of the crew members likely regarded both crimes as an accident -- with the few aware of her investigation believing her obstinately paranoid -- she knew better than to accept it. Perhaps initially, starting with the thievery, she held onto the sliver of the possibility that the stolen books were a mere prank, but Jean Morris's fall into the engine altered that. The book found on the floor served to prove it. The two incidents were connected, and there was a chance it would progress. So far, nothing else unusual had occurred, but she wasn't intent on waiting until it was too late.
It was on this train of thought that Tear found herself outside of Sherlock's quarters the moment she completed her tasks. She couldn't stay long, as she needed to guard the planes, but she didn't expect their conversation to take more than half an hour at most. With a white folder clutched in one hand, she then raised the other, curling it as she brought it knocking lightly against the door.
"Holmes?"
Content: Tear has a request for the clever detective.
Setting: Sherlock's quarters
Time: Late afternoon
Warnings: None expected~.
Tear had hoped not to rely on Sherlock's expertise when it came to the investigation. However, seeing how he possessed more experience than she did, it would be foolish to continue trying to solve it herself. Regardless, she couldn't help the slight concern that thrummed soundly against her chest, the clear reminder of the potential dangers involved. She wasn't a masochist by any means, but when it came to any harm befalling the crew, she preferred to be the only person shouldering it. With others tangled in the situation, there was a higher chance of an unpleasant factor affecting their well-being. Yet, as much as she thought about it, she consistently ended with the same result.
She needed assistance when it came to the mystery that lingered within the Silvana.
No matter how much effort she placed into contemplating the matter, no matter how much effort she placed into gathering evidence, the facts didn't change. She simply didn't have the experience required of solving the issue fast enough. Even if some of the crew members likely regarded both crimes as an accident -- with the few aware of her investigation believing her obstinately paranoid -- she knew better than to accept it. Perhaps initially, starting with the thievery, she held onto the sliver of the possibility that the stolen books were a mere prank, but Jean Morris's fall into the engine altered that. The book found on the floor served to prove it. The two incidents were connected, and there was a chance it would progress. So far, nothing else unusual had occurred, but she wasn't intent on waiting until it was too late.
It was on this train of thought that Tear found herself outside of Sherlock's quarters the moment she completed her tasks. She couldn't stay long, as she needed to guard the planes, but she didn't expect their conversation to take more than half an hour at most. With a white folder clutched in one hand, she then raised the other, curling it as she brought it knocking lightly against the door.
"Holmes?"