(Untitled)

[sh_consulting]

WHO: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and you...?? (OPEN)
WHERE: All around the town.
WHEN: All Saturday.
WARNINGS: uh none? i will update this if bizarre things happen
SUMMARY: Sherlock and John go looking around the city for a flat (and a disguise or two) and maybe run into people. feel free to start your own tags, they'll be all over the place, you can

Comments

[drpsychosomatic]

There were many reasons Dr. John Watson liked Sherlock Holmes, he reminded himself, forcefully. Many. His propensity for demanding John's attention right there and then no matter the hour, however, was not one of them.

Wearily opening an eye to check the time (Less than two minutes since he'd been woken by a text message he'd decided could definitely wait until a sociable hour), he groaned and slid out of bed, raking a hand through his hair irritably as he slumped bare-footed towards the front door.

Once there, he opened it without a single snapped curse or muttered insult- though it was entirely obvious from his bed-ruffled hair and rumpled pyjamas that he would have been quite happy with another hour or three of sleep, thank you very much.

"Sherlock," he said tightly, offering the other man a forced smile. "Do you own a watch?"

[sh_consulting]

Sherlock's patented smug smirk slid up his lips at the sight of John, the light behind his eyes twinkling.

"It is exactly 7:16 a.m, and it has been precisely thirteen minutes since the sun rose."

He paused, and then, still smirking: "Problem?"

[drpsychosomatic]

"Bit of one, yes. Ever heard of sociable hours?"

He sighed anyway and moved aside, giving Sherlock room to slide past him into the flat. The detective was law unto himself and that was extremely unlikely to change.

"Tea? I'm going to need at least one before listening to whatever reason you have for getting me up before seven thirty on my day off."

[sh_consulting]

"No. We can pick up breakfast on the way." Not that he would, of course, eat much of anything. But he'd rather the good doctor be somewhat awake for their excursion.

He stepped into John's flat as if he was merely walking into an extension of his own. He couldn't help notice, however, that it was nearly barren, save for a mug and a couple discarded newspapers. He walked to the window, pulling the curtains back to take a look outside. The world was barely awake yet, but the City was alive as ever.

"At least it is a day off. We have a lot to do."

Afternoon?

[daft_old_man]

[The Doctor always seems to know when something interesting is going on around the neighborhood, so when two fellows take a look at one of the flats in the building next door he was only too happy to say hello. Without even knocking, not like anyone lives there anyway, he opens the door]

Hello future neighbors!

Perfect :D

[drpsychosomatic]

[John was getting slightly more used to people appearing through walls, sometimes having lobster heads etc, but even with his accumulating experiences he still wasn't prepared for this latest intrusion. Not that it seemed a particularly dangerous one, but he still jumped a little in spite of himself, whirling round to look at the newcomer. ...Future neighbour. Whatever he was. John certainly hadn't agreed on this particular flat yet, although it did seem to be their best option so far...]

Oh! Hello, sorry- we were just... looking around.

[And a slightly awkward cough. Sherlock, rescue him, please.]

[sh_consulting]

[Sherlock turned, expecting the landlord which had popped out to get something, and instead found the doctor. An eyebrow raised.]

Ah. An import, correct? I thought those Christmas lights looked familiar. [He offered his practiced smile.]

Sherlock Holmes, [He waved a hand at John.] Dr. John Watson.

[daft_old_man]

[He looked between the two men and grinned wider. This place was always losing neighbors for some reason]

Oh, yes, I'm the Doctor.

[Stepping towards John he leaned forward a air kissed both cheeks before turning to do the same to Sherlock.]

Early evening

[ofcompanyb]

Blue is still looking for a music club that will let him in - he was always bad at that fake ID thing - when he spots the tall, lanky Sherlock Holmes from a distance. The man is impossible to mistake - he looks like Fly, a little, at least in his body, and he always has an expression of absolute focus. It's a little intimidating to look at, even for the Fable.

But it's nice to have someone who knows what it means to be one around, or so Blue thinks. He winds his way through the crowd with an ease that says, clearly, that he has lived in many a big city before.

"Hey, Sherlock!"

[sh_consulting]

Sherlock turns at the voice and immediately spots Blue in the crowd, offering something half way between a smile and a smirk. He waits until the boy comes up to them, and then turns his head to John.

"John, this is Boy Blue." His look said quite distinctly 'don't ask'. "Blue, Dr. John Watson."

[drpsychosomatic]

John, of course, catches that look- and as such, the slightly tight smile he sends in Blue's direction has none of the bewilderment he feels. Does anyone in this place have a normal name?

"Hello," he offers, attempting to sound less than half as awkward as he's sure he will. "One of Sherlock's friends?"

[ofcompanyb]

Blue reaches over to shake John's hand, because Blue is friendly and ridiculous, sometimes. "Blue, please, otherwise people will think you're strange. Or a pedophile. That happens, sometimes."

Blue definitely realizes that it's awkward, but that has never stopped the Fable from doing anything - after all most of the time he's the one who's awkward. And considering he has a trumpet tied to one of the beltloops in his jeans, he's probably the strangest one here. "We met when I got here. I was just happy to see other Fables here!"

On a street corner like a hobo. A magical, magical hobo.

[byholeystgeorge]

There's no time like the holiday season for selling gifts engineered to piss off relatives and disliked acquaintances alike (not to mention these charming 'finals' going about that made all the youths so keen to have a mock illness for a week or two), and thus none other than George Weasley is out on the corner in a residential area, conveniently located near a high school, peddling his wares. He'd set off a few of the tamer Whiz-Bangs a moment ago, their scorching lights still hovering in the air around him as he pulls out the next bit of sample-sized fun for the masses. In this case, a box of chocolates.

"Try a nose-bleed nougat? Perfect excuse for dodging unwanted relations and coworkers alike. And who'd demand your presence at the office Christmas Party with a Puking Pastille on hand? Or decoy detonators, perfect bit for distraction while your holiday escape is made. amples for one and all."

[sh_consulting]

Sherlock made a habit of memorizing every street in the city, and knew every regular street peddler that took to the streets. It was helpful, having a network to compliment his homeless one.

This street corner, however, featured something new. And at the words 'decoy detonators', his ears perked. Attention captured, he quickly evaluated the scene. The lights, the strange objects - and, of course, the slightly bizarre fashion sense - immediately pointed Sherlock to other. Import, then.

He strode up, assuming John would follow behind him.

"Decoy Detonators, hmm?" He smiled.

[drpsychosomatic]

Oh. This did not sound good. John followed Sherlock warily, uncertain he wanted Sherlock to procure more devices with which to irritate those around him. Particularly to be avoided was anything with the word 'detonate' in it.

"Don't even think about it," he murmured in Sherlock's general direction, a bright smile plastered on his face.

[byholeystgeorge]

Oh that salesman grin. George may be lacking a proper store front, but he's been in business long enough to know how to cater to the customer.

"The very simplest of our mischief managing products, good sir. Used, of course, with only the best of intentions in mind."

And with this he produces a small, about the size of a pinky finger, black horn that he drops to the ground. A moment later, it scurries away of it's own accord like a frantic mouse, weaving through the crowd...then goes off in a burst of sound and no fury several meters away, drawing a fair bit of attention from passing pedestrians. To a direction exactly opposite to their current location, of course.

OUTSIDE SOME CAFE THAT THEY ARE PROBABLY WALKING PAST....

[brevipennate]

[Nill had gone out to get some baking supplies; she was tired of sitting in the church and feeling sorry for herself, and had decided that baking was her best option. It had always made her feel better in the past, and there was no reason it shouldn't work now. However, as young ladies are wont to be, she was distracted by some new Christmas decorations in a coffee shop she sometimes visited. So she had paused, wings shifting beneath her coat as she inspected the adornments.]

UH HOW ABOUT JOHN NEEDED COFFEE

[sh_consulting]

[Sherlock pushed open the door from inside the coffee shop, mid-sentence to John who was following behind him.]

No, no, the flat on fourth won't do. Did you see the size of the kitchen? There would be no where to keep an extra fre--

[He stopped before he ran into Nill, instantly recognizing her from the videos.]

-Ah. Busy Day. Hello, Nill.

LOL THE LATEST HI

[brevipennate]

[She wasn't quite quick enough to move out of the way, but she did spin around just in time to see him, pigtails flying around her head. She blinked once, twice, and then recognized him from the one or two times she had seen him on the Network. Sherlock, the man who had given her puzzles. She smiled, lifting one hand in greeting. She may not have been surprised as others to see him out and about; after all, he was still a person, and nobody stayed locked up inside all the time. However, she still took half a step back to put a bit of space between them. Old habits die hard.]

LKSDA MY FAULT. NO WORRIES.

[sh_consulting]

[Sherlock offered a genuine smile (yes he had some, sometimes) and a nod of his head. He noted the retreating movement, but he had already assumed that Nill had previous traumatic experiences based on their conversations, so he was not surprised or perturbed by it. His own body language was relaxed and nonthreatening, tipping his chin into his scarf to look down at her. He could not help that he towered a bit.

He knew, of course, that she could not reply to him with her voice, so he merely continued on his own.]

It seems you've recovered somewhat since our last conversation.

This is my - friend, John Watson. [He gestured towards the man, and then, after a small thought, long elegant fingers signed out:]

Can you communicate in sign language?