open post version 2.

[docwithablog]

( TEXTS )
( AUDIO )
( VISUAL )
( PROMPTS )
( OVERFLOW )

Comments

[acutereasoner]

I call it being intimately aware of the inner workings of my mind, which only I am privy to, despite numerous outside sources claiming to be an authority on the subject.

[docwithablog]

No. I would never pretend to know what the hell is going on inside your head, Sherlock.

But I will stand by any and all predictions I make about what is going to happen to you, to your body, if you continue to get high on heroin or coke or -- you know, insert that drug you're currently craving and you get the picture.

[acutereasoner]

What happens to my body is of little practical concern to me when my mind is tearing itself to pieces.

I've long accepted my body and mind are at cross purposes. I can serve one, to the detriment of the other, or I can serve both and satisfy neither.

You're working under the erroneous assumption that I haven't considered all the facts. I assure you, I've weighed the costs time and time and time again, and each time I've found mental exaltation to be well worth the price of physical ruination.

I am a brain, John. The rest of me is mere transport.

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[docwithablog]

Lovely, a monologue in text format.

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[docwithablog]

Sherlock, your brain won't get much of anywhere, if your mode of transportation dies on you while you're on the bloody highway.

[acutereasoner]

You say that as though there is a preferable alternative.

[docwithablog]

It's called no speeding, it's called getting your car serviced regularly. It's called sometimes, just sometimes taking the bus.

You don't need me to tell you this, I know. You're clever. But you're also stubborn and in habit of disregarding yourself. So I'm telling you anyway. Perhaps that makes me the idiot, who knows.

[acutereasoner]

I went to Harrow, John. Do you really think I know how to take the bus?

[He knows he's really abusing the metaphor here, but still. Posh boys don't take public transportation, and eccentric geniuses don't take health-days. It's just not the done thing.]

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[docwithablog]

Oh, for God's sake...

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[docwithablog]

[ But he's laughing anyway. You might not be able to see, but it permeates his next text somewhat. ]

You'd get kicked off within two stops anyway. Someone in the third row was actually out to rob a bank and you couldn't keep quiet about it, you bloody show-off.

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[acutereasoner]

I am perfectly capable of keeping my deductions to myself.

I just don't, out of principle.

The less someone wants to hear something, the more they probably need to hear it.

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[acutereasoner]

[...Oh goddamn it he just left himself open for a very scathing and obvious rebuttable.]

John, no.

I know what you're about to say, I realized it the moment I texted what I did, so you can stop typing.



John.



John if I read the words irony or hypocrisy within the next thirty seconds, I'm blocking your number.

[docwithablog]

Don't worry, I have absolutely nothing to add to this conversation. You said it brilliantly yourself.

[acutereasoner]

It's your turn to be insufferable now, is it?

[docwithablog]

I have to live up to you somehow.

[acutereasoner]

After the lecture I was just given, are you certain you should really be following my example?

[docwithablog]

For all that you're a self-destructive cock, Sherlock, you're still rather incredible. Let that be said in the spirit of full disclosure.

[acutereasoner]

Despite our years of intimate association, the standards by which you deem others incredible continue to elude me.

My only conclusion is that you've somehow managed to avoid all mirrors, reflective surfaces, and thoughts of a self-introspecting nature for nearly four decades.

[docwithablog]

Trust me, I know I'm incredible, too. Otherwise I wouldn't have endured all these years in the company of the world's perhaps most annoying dick.

Luckily the good heavily outweighs the bad, here.

[acutereasoner]

My Blushes, John.

The "perhaps" was really quite generous of you.

[docwithablog]

There are people who annoy me more, but then again, I don't live with them, do I?

[acutereasoner]

I wager I would annoy you quite a bit less if you hadn't so deeply invested yourself in my physical well-being, compulsive doctor that you are.

[Actually it's just a general friend thing not a doctor thing, but Sherlock hasn't had enough experience with either to really know.]

[docwithablog]

Yes, that's what I am.

[ The term you're looking for is friend, Sherlock, look it up. ]

Your doctor.

[acutereasoner]

Considering how rarely I follow your medical advice, you are arguably only my doctor in the possessive since.

[Not that he means to imply he has any claim over John, or that he feels he belongs to him in some small way, heaven forbid.]

We ought to think of a more accurate title. My Doctor is misleading; while admirable I would hardly consider it your most valuable quality. Rather, you have a singular talent for illumination, for casting out the shadows that so often muddy the waters of my mind.

In that fashion, you are not so much my doctor as you are my conductor of light.

[docwithablog]

Okay, first off, let's not tell anyone that you call me that or they'll all start thinking they're right about us.

Secondly. Thank you. Being nice suits you, Sherlock, you should consider doing it more often.