[John needs to stop taking the Faciliberry into the bath with him. Really, he just needs to stop taking a bath rather than a shower due to the mess from yesterday, but he believes that Val won't try to trap him in the tab again. He's had a small conversation with Gabriel, he's read through the rest of that morning's posts, looking to see if anyone needed a doctor--]
Sher--
[Yes, and then Sherlock, timestamped ten minutes ago.]
[He's confused for a moment, you see? Confused until he heard the 'make you dance.' It's not like Sherlock to steal Moriarty's lines. So, not taken in by the so called confession, though it nags on him a little in ways that will be remembered later, he's already getting dressed when Sherlock, in the feed, starts to bleed.]
Jesus!
[Yes, poor residents of Suite 20. John in just his pants dashing from the bathroom to Room A will accompany your breakfast if you're there to see.]
[Eyes: open. It takes him a moment to focus properly, but he manages it in time, with a wry smile following just behind.]
Morning.
[He looks a mess, lying there on his back with the blood from his nose running down all the way to his neck, with fresher trails following the lines of his cheek to a splotch that matches the small pool on the floor. The bleeding seems to have mostly stopped, however, and though he's still a bit dazed and disoriented, he feels fine. More or less.]
I shall make a note of it, though I'm afraid we haven't much to offer by way of services in return. Goods, certainly, but my own talents are rather wasted on this place.
Fuck you, you pretentious tool. I'm checking because I don't wanna deal with Kenzi being all "boo hoo" over you not wanting to squirt out a few baby tears for the robo-bitch.
[After a few seconds he's at the door, yanking it open. He's been cleaned up and he looks significantly better, if a bit less focused and even more pale than usual.]
Careful, careful, there's a ward on the door. Don't hit it too hard.
Comments 185
Sher--
[Yes, and then Sherlock, timestamped ten minutes ago.]
[He's confused for a moment, you see? Confused until he heard the 'make you dance.' It's not like Sherlock to steal Moriarty's lines. So, not taken in by the so called confession, though it nags on him a little in ways that will be remembered later, he's already getting dressed when Sherlock, in the feed, starts to bleed.]
Jesus!
[Yes, poor residents of Suite 20. John in just his pants dashing from the bathroom to Room A will accompany your breakfast if you're there to see.]
Sherlock, Sherlock? Eyes, open your eyes!
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Morning.
[He looks a mess, lying there on his back with the blood from his nose running down all the way to his neck, with fresher trails following the lines of his cheek to a splotch that matches the small pool on the floor. The bleeding seems to have mostly stopped, however, and though he's still a bit dazed and disoriented, he feels fine. More or less.]
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[Sherlock's too stubborn. Too stubborn for this bloody test.]
You just do what she tell you. When she tells you. This is going to hurt.
[He scrambles for his kit to clean away the blood and have a peek inside to see if the damage was topical or not.]
Idiot. What do you care if you cry on cue? Most teenage girls do the same!
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I don't care. It is useful.
You care though. You doubt me often enough as it is.
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Fine, yes, fine. My roommate is a doctor.
... Thank you for your concern, regardless.
[An outward show of gratitude from Sherlock Holmes? He must still be a bit dazed.]
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That is good. If you needed help, I am a demon and able to heal with my energy, so I can stop by for any extra help you need.
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Fine, yes. Quite all right. And now I've heard from you, which is fantastic. I feel ever so much better.
[That's about as close to gratitude as you're going to get. Savour it.]
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Play the fucking game, dude.
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I might have had to cultivate something resembling a conscience. Crisis averted.
But duly noted. Mustn't upset Her Highness.
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Are you dead?
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Not dead, no. I rather feel as though somebody's gone at my sinuses with an ice pick, but otherwise I'm just peachy, thanks.
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Do you have help or should I try to find a healer for you?
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My roommate is a doctor and has suitably overreacted to my condition. I'm well cared-for. But thank you for your concern.
[Aaaand if John hadn't been listening in, that last bit probably wouldn't have been said at all.]
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[A few moments later, because he's right next door to them he's knocking on the door hard.]
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Careful, careful, there's a ward on the door. Don't hit it too hard.
I'm--
Hello, yes, I'm fine.
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Are you sure?
[He was bleeding from his nose, in most books people who bled from their nose were having brain damage of some sort.]
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[He tries a smile, mostly successfully.]
... Sorry to have frightened you.
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