Who: Sherlock Holmes (Victorian)
yes_mother_hen , aaaaand...YOU!
What: Holmes is going door-to-door asking you if you want to take care of this harpy baby instead of him. He is the worst surrogate mother ever.
When: Whenever today!
Where: On the Thor, of course!
Warnings: Holmes being a douche as usual, and if he likes you enough he'll probably intrude upon your
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Comments 147
She opened the door cautiously at first, making sure that the person on the other side was not clad with a bloodied trench coat or had the grim disposition of a Hitchcock villain. For the moment, she said nothing and simply allowed the person on the other side to begin the conversation.
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"Good day."
A tip of the head, and he thrust the harpy forward a little more insistently.
"May I ask if this fellow appeals to any-- any-- of your maternal instincts?"
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Her attention then moved up to the man carrying it, tilting her head slightly. "And who are you?"
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"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, unfortunately not a harpy enthusiast."
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Such as having a human musician (what was his name?) that Remilia had met a grand total of twice or so standing-unannounced-at her door step with a screaming harpy chick.
This anomaly was met with a highly unamused look, flatter than paper.
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"Ah, Miss Scarlet. I seem to recall that you've some supernatural qualities of your own."
And he brandishes the harpy baby as if to say HERE, TAKE THIS.
"I'm sure a harpy would be well within your field of expertise?"
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But no, that would be impolite.
No move is made towards the harpy. In fact, no move was made at all aside from a slight narrowing of a glare. "Mister Holmes," came the driest response, "I only have to wonder how dense you would be to assume a vampire knows anything about a screaming, glorified vulture."
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The tone was fantastically dry, but he persisted, nudging the flapping creature a little bit further towards Remilia. The harpy, on the other hand, took a look at the vampire and started screaming a little louder, much to Holmes' chagrin.
"...See, it. Likes you."
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"I didn't know you had a maternal instinct!"
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"I'm afraid that I don't fit the role of 'mother hen' as well as Watson does."
The harpy was starting to struggle, and Holmes admonished it with a light shake and a roll of his eyes.
"I seem to recall that you've an affinity for animals. Here, add it to your collection, will you?"
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"One moment."
Oddly enough, instead of coming up with a retort as usual, Lien left for a minute or two to rummage around in her bedroom. She came back with a portable camera in her hand and a mischievous smile on her face.
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"Spare me."
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And now, you're offering her another one to look after? Why Holmes? Whyyy?
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"Ah."
That's all he can say, really, and his grim smile turns a bit more sympathetic.
"You too."
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She stares at his harpy, but then the fox hurriedly hops off and scampers over to the other harpies that are now screeching loudly.
"... They haven't been getting along recently."
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He says so in exasperation, as his own charge starts to bite at his sleeves, tearing off a piece of the fabric. This is approximately the fourth garment that it's ruined in its short stay at Holmes' room.
"Hopefully they won't tear each other's throats out. Or, well. Maybe I shouldn't say that."
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Ukitake might have almost been struck by the deja vu as soon as he registers who's actually standing on the other side - except that the baby harpy succeeds in breaking any similarities to Holmes's last visit entirely.
...No, really, what is that even--
He blinks, bemused expression travelling slowly from the squirming alien infant to the man holding it.
"...Oh, Sherlock-san. ...Hello..."
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"Good day."
The harpy is visibly uncomfortable by the way Holmes is thrusting it forward.
"Would you like to hone your maternal instincts, perhaps?"
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Ukitake leans back juuust a bit as Holmes thrusts the harpy his way, eyebrows soaring upwards.
"I...no, I think I'll be pretty fine without, actually." Suffice to say, the look he gives the man directly afterwards is several shades of bemused - and, as his eyes travel down to the harpy again for the third time, the next question is inevitable enough: "...What's this...?"
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"A harpy."
He follows up that answer with another insistent proffering of the creature, letting the harpy take a good long look at Ukitake. It's almost ironic how unamused the harpy looks-- it's mirroring Holmes' expression, really.
"Quite agreeable little things, wouldn't you say?"
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