storyline one.

[docwithablog]

chronology -

00. word association w/ Sherlock

1. gen texting w/ Sherlock

2. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

3. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

4. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

5. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

6. texting w/ Sherlock

7. texting w/ Sherlock

8. texting w/ Sherlock

9. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

10. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

11. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

12. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

13. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

14. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

15. texting w/ Sherlock

16. otherwordly w/ Sherlock

17. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

18. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

19. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

20. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

21. texting - part one | texting - part two w/ Sherlock

22. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

23. texting w/ Sherlock

24. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

25. texting w/ Sherlock

26. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

27. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

28. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

29. truth or dare w/ Sherlock

00. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

30. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

31. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

32. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

33. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

34. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

35. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

36. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

37. texting w/ Sherlock

38. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

39. the case of the devil's root w/ Sherlock

00. word association w/ Sherlock

00. texting w/ Sherlock

00. penny for your thoughts w/ Sherlock

40. midnight texting w/ Sherlock

41. interlude w/ Sherlock

42. interlude w/ Sherlock

43. interlude w/ Sherlock

44. texting w/ Sherlock

45. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

46. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

47. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

48. texting w/ Sherlock

49. texting w/ Sherlock

50. texting w/ Sherlock

51. anniversary w/ Sherlock

52. texting w/ Sherlock

53. interlude w/ Sherlock

Comments

[acuriousincident]

[ Another one of John's stellar ideas - dragging him for a social visit with the man who's lend them the cottage, Terence Ingram, at his manor about a twenty minutes walk away. Ingram's currently busy regaling them with boring history lessons and whilst Sherlock could certainly take an interest in relevant info concerning this area, the story of how rich people come to either own or lose their lands simply doesn't fall within any such category. Legs stretched out a bit, he sips his tea and looks around the dining room, taking in the various effects on display and trying valiantly not to die from boredom.

1) Grandfather clock. Thomas Stubbs, 17th century, incredibly rare. Almost certainly predates the manor. Bears no traces of wear, exceedingly well-kept. Family heirloom.

2) Tea set. Belleek pottery, not overly expensive and of a more recent date. Clearly not the best china; the set they use for informal visits, most probably a gift. Family or close relations.

3) The carpet. Persian. Worn in all anticipated areas for a carpet that's been in a casual dining room for decades, very mildly sun bleached in areas subjected to the midday sun. Oh, but what's that? Signs of - hm. He narrows his eyes. ]

You should tell your maid to keep her private life off your Persian carpet. [ He glances over at Ingram who's looking at him a bit expectantly - what, was he talking to him? When? Ah well, no matter. Sherlock gives a slight shrug. ] They can stand quite a lot but that sort of activity wears on them, regardless.

[docwithablog]

[ God, this is why you can't possibly bring Sherlock anywhere, how does he keep forgetting that? Feeling his eyebrows go up as Sherlock, rather than answering the implicit question, deduces that the maid has regular coitus on the Persian carpet, John manages to refrain from dragging his palm down over his face, instead licking his lips, pursing them and cutting in, politely, as Ingram exclaims a disbelieving what, pardon me, but -- ]

How's work going, Ingram? You landed the research job in that underground base you applied for, right?

[ As the man visibly collects himself, a very scandalized look going Sherlock's way, John turns in his seat and just stares at him, grimacing to really show his disapproval here, because if it's anything too subtle, Sherlock just won't get it -- or he'll ignore it, either would be incredibly annoying, yes. A few seconds of that, Ingram being understandably shaken in his polite, upperclass foundation and John being ready to throttle someone, possibly Sherlock, possibly himself for thinking it was a good idea bringing him along, they turn their attention back on each other with magnanimous disregard and reach for their tea, sipping away at a lovely blend of Earl Grey while Ingram tells him that he of course can't give away too much, but he's very satisfied with his assignments, although the entire operation has caused a whole string of silly rumours about secret military experiments and the like in the surrounding villages. He lives with the ever-present risk of having little boys poke him in expectation that he might melt or explore at any moment when he's in Helston.

He laughs, John scoffs.

Please don't, Sherlock. Just don't. ]

[acuriousincident]

[ There's a beat, during which Ingram goes what and John's eyebrows climb dangerously close to his hairline. Then, as smoothly as you'd expect from someone who doesn't, actually, have many real friends apart from Sherlock, John changes the subject. Back to boring, that's nice - except, wait.

Underground base?

Sherlock glances at John (who's still looking somewhat tetchy, as if Sherlock's the one who's been having oral sex on the man's hundred-year-old carpet) then over at Ingram. ]

Military experiments? [ He frowns. ] Of what sort?

[ Naturally, rumours tend to surface concerning any and all partially hidden military bases, particularly once they're underground. There's nothing inherently interesting or novel about that, in itself. But all the same, there's nothing much of interest out here at all and sometimes, even random oddities turn out to carry at least a level of significance. Either that or he's just bored and in need for this conversation to take a turn for the better, fast, before he actively starts yawning. ]

[docwithablog]

[ And because Sherlock doesn't, it appears, take hints, they get halfway into what could have been a decent and proper conversation, if the man hadn't interrupted them again with the very intrusive question of what sort of military experiments as if, one) any such are actual taking place and two) Ingram would be at liberty to talk about it to him, if they were. John purses his lips again, looking sideways at him, then over at Ingram who has promptly forgotten the story he was in the middle of telling about the warning sign some kids stuck to the front doors of the different cottages on his grounds this past New Year's. Apparently one of them had disappeared on the way, presumed fallen off the cliffs, very tragic. Now, Ingram looks at John a bit perplexed until John just inclines his head in a go, it's fine gesture.

The most persistent one, Ingram tells them, watching Sherlock almost expectantly and John knows, he has that effect on people, is that we are developing a chemical weapon on base, testing it on people, that's why they keep disappearing in this area... ]

A lot of people disappear out here?

[ Relatively, Ingram answers.

Frowning, John takes a longer sip of his tea, glancing at the carpet and immediately recalling that Sherlock thinks the maid's having sex there. Well, somewhere -- there. Seeing as Sherlock rarely thinks anything that isn't an actual fact, supposedly the maid is having sex on the carpet and John's currently looking at it and thinking about it and he very quickly shakes his head a bit. Okay, stop. He straightens up in his chair, to do something else, yes.

For God's sake, Sherlock. ]

[acuriousincident]

[ He rolls his eyes (briefly, subtly, John, try not to have kittens) and crosses his arms over his chest, going back to staring around the room after giving Ingram a quick nod just to offer something in return for whatever that was. A chemical weapon? Nice. He'll have to tell his brother that little joke, see him take on the patented, constipated look he's perfected with regards to normal people and their normal minds. Anyway, naturally, people disappear out here, amongst all this empty space full of little but air and sand and grass. Nothing easier than jumping off a cliff or skipping the formalities and just walking straight out into the ocean. In fact, he's feeling that particular craving right now, John, get him out of here, come on --

Ingram pauses mid-sentence, in the midst of telling John something irrelevant about his newest endavour down in the nearby village (something to do with charity). Apologising, mostly in John's direction, he gets up and leaves the room, one hand grabbing his phone from within his jacket. It's vibrating very subtly, the slight buzzing sound disappearing as he steps outside into the hall and takes the call, voice quiet, almost hushed.

I'm sorry, it's not a convenient -- yes, but I -- what? Mrs. -- ?

Sherlock tilts his head slightly. Listens in, the best he can because going by the way Ingram's voice just pitched up, there might finally be something interesting happening that doesn't include 1) children playing pranks, 2) fantasy experiments or 3) rich people showing off their prowess. ]

[docwithablog]

[ Ingram interrupts his, honestly, Sherlock might have a point there, not very interesting, showoff-y speech about the charities his family has supported in Helston and the local communities throughout centuries when his phone starts buzzing. It's a brief apology he offers, mainly in John's direction -- then again, Sherlock did bring up how his maid gets it on the carpet, before scurrying off into the hallway to take the call. There is maybe a second of neutral peace in the room, John simply waiting and Sherlock -- simply doing whatever it is Sherlock does to keep that mind of his occupied in a milieu such as this, maybe count the stitches in the hem of the curtains... Then, Sherlock piques up at the way Ingram's voice changes and John feels something like foreboding gather in his guts, because no. Just no. He quickly leans forward, way into Sherlock's intimate sphere to whisper a rather desperate: ]

No matter what it is, Sherlock, we're not taking it. We're not going to investigate it. We're not even having a look.

[ That's all he has time to make very clear, before Ingram's voice rises a few notches and the rest of the call happens in some kind of elevated state that John knows, because he's seen these things happen before, he's got the experience at this point, means they will take it, will investigate it and most certainly will have a look. He licks his lips. This time, though, his hand does go to his face and he drags his palm slowly down it, sighing as he leans back in his seat again. For God's sake. They're here on holiday. Retreat. A bloody retreat, except there's no such thing for Sherlock Holmes, is there?

Ingram returns, looking highly disturbed. I'm very sorry, he explains and John wants to throttle him too, now. But I will have to cut tea short, one of our oldest acquaintances in Helston has just had a very violent episode play out in his shop. One of the town's oddballs threatened everybody with her dead husband's hunting rifle, yelling about government conspiracies and whatnot. I really have to go, I'm afraid. ]

[acuriousincident]

[ He simply raises an eyebrow at John when he leans into his personal space, feeling an urge to learn sideways against him and quenching it, for now. Instead, he simply watches, impassively, as Ingram returns looking quite unnerved. He then proceeds to tell them that regretfully, he'll have to cut tea short (thank you God above), that there's been a violent episode in a Helston shop (... Christmas?) and that... oh. Committed by some crazy person, that's... so disappointing. Face falling, he looks down at his hands, then at his feet before pushing out his chair and standing up, taking Ingram's cue for what it is. ]

Do keep us updated, Mr. Ingram, if this turns out to be more interesting than it appears at first glance. [ He gives the man a quick and fleeting smile, the one he drags out for the purpose of politeness (it usually achieves the opposite effect which suits him just fine). Ingram, meanwhile, is staring at him like he's grown two heads so Sherlock just shakes his hand because someone's got to end this dawdling little slab of social interaction. ] Thanks for the tea.

[ And just like that, he strides out. After all, he knows where the door is. ]

[docwithablog]

[ As Sherlock stands up, so does John, thinking that it can go either way, really. Normally crazy people aren't his sort of thing at all, but he's on a comedown and last John checked, he was investigating the neighbour's cat. In the end, though, Sherlock manages a not-smile in Ingram's general direction, making the man look quite unnerved again, especially as Sherlock simply opts to -- shake his hand, no invitation, no nothing, before striding off with a thanks for the tea which they could all undoubtedly see that he hated from start to finish. Christ.

Ingram looks at John. Partner, he just asks, making John grimace in acknowledgement of the sad fact that Sherlock Holmes is in a romantic relationship to someone and that someone is evidently him. A slight shrug and a strained smile later, he's replying: ]

Yeah, I know. I'm -- really sorry you got to meet him at his worst behaviour, Ingram.

[ Ingram scoffs and waves it off, before holding out his hand and going for a brief handshake. They exchange smiles, promises of keeping each other updated -- a bit more politely than Sherlock managed to, if only by a notch and then, Ingram follows John out into the hallway, all the way down to the front doors, Sherlock already outside. Not waiting. Because Sherlock doesn't bloody wait, ever. I could drive you by the Lodge on my way to town, Ingram offers.

John laughs, genuinely this time. ]

Better not. I'd have to rein him in first.

[ So, in the end, Ingram drives to town in his Porsche and John spends most of the walk home to the Beach Lodge trying to catch up to Sherlock. What a lovely distribution of things, really. ]