Dec 24, 2010 20:15

JW: No, there is a voice in my head that is constantly narrating my life and it is your voice. That is how I know what tone you were using.

JW: Sherlock?

JW: Whatever, biscuits.

Dec 25, 2010 0:02

JW: Happy Christmas.

SH: John, just got your last text, are you sure you don't need a doctor?

Dec 25, 2010 6:44

JW: I am a doctor. Pretty sure everyone gets that voice sometimes. Mine just sounds like you now. I'm fine.

SH: I'm sure most paranoid schizophrenics think they're perfectly sane and everyone else just isn't paying attention.

JW: Sounds like you. And I don't have any of the other symptoms.

SH: Paranoia, auditory hallucinations, erratic behavior…

JW: Just a bit, and only regarding your ex, who I was told might break in! Reasonable.

SH: Yes. But. You texted me at six-forty-four this morning. That's erratic and annoying.

SH: Also you insisted on a legalistic promise that she wouldn't kill you, which is vaguely paranoid but amusing so nevermind.

JW: I was up, my phone was there. Why not? I find it odder that you responded seven minutes later, when I had gone back to sleep. In a chair in the living room.

JW: And assuming your ex is anything like you, leaving no loopholes made the most sense.

SH: Not really. Ugh, you texted me and then Mycroft's bloody ten-year-old appeared next to my bed shouting about Father Christmas so I got up and texted you back.

JW: I thought you didn't sleep.

SH: Not when I'm working. Not working = sleeping. My brother should appreciate this and keep his children /away/.

JW: I'd keep my children away from you anyway.

SH: I wonder how the urea levels in urine effect decomposition?

JW: See? See? It's Christmas morning, Sherlock. Go open presents and be happy like a human being.

SH: You know most human beings don't and haven't celebrated Christmas, right?

JW: Piss off, and this time I mean it. Don't come back until you've opened your gifts and had breakfast and drunk some eggnog.

SH: Revolting.

JW: Gifts? Family? Food?

SH: No, eggnog at half seven.

JW: Oh…I suppose that is true. Drink, I dunno, coffee then. Now go away.

SH: Ten year old brat forgiven.

JW: Why?

SH: He got me a shirt that says "I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up." I don't wear t-shirts, but this might have to become my go-to outfit for cases.

JW: Trousers too, please.

SH: If I must.

SH: Isn't ten a bit old not to have done a handwriting analysis and realized that Father Christmas makes his a's the same way as Mummy and uses the same wrapping paper?

JW: Uh…no?

SH: Dull. I'll wear trousers if it makes you happy, John.

JW: What? Consideration! It's a Christmas miracle!

SH: Shut up.

JW: Wear your blazer, too, please. Then I can mock you even more.

SH: I do not understand the inexplicable amusement that you derive from my blazer, John.

JW: It amuses me.

SH: Tautological.

JW: It's the inexplicable amusement that I get from seeing you in a blazer.

JW: And could you use words that I don't have to look up on the Internet? It's annoying.

SH: I don't know the limitations of your vocabulary, John.

JW: Guess. I went to medical school, I didn't study English.

SH: Nor did I.

JW: What did you study, out of curiousity?

SH: Biology and Chemistry.

JW: Not psychology?

SH: Not officially. Psychology is an idiotic pseudoscience.

JW: What do you call what you do then?

SH: …logic.

JW: You know that's a course of study too.

SH: I'm being facetious. You know precisely what it's called.

JW: Oh right, your website. Also, I'm restraining myself from making a face pun.

SH: What?

JW: Facetious has face in it—puns could be made. Sorry, I'm a bit out of it, one of the family gave me a vicious cold and I've just had a bit of sherry.

JW: Harry's fault.

SH: The cold, or the sherry?

JW: The sherry.

JW: Actually, everything.

SH: Your cold's not going to be helped by the sherry, and watch your glass. Harry's behind you.

JW: That was my point, and you can't know that!

SH: Look.

JW: How- nevermind. If she tries to spike my drink now, I'll just fall asleep.

SH: Possibly. Or become even more ridiculous.

JW: True. You know how people don't want to turn into their parents? I don't want to turn into Harry.

SH: You seem to be doing well. Begin by remaining male and unmarried.

JW: I'm currently reading and enjoying an ettiquette book. The end is neigh.

SH: The end is a horse?

SH: And Harry wouldn't recognize /etiquette/ if it bit her.

JW: Neigh? Synonym for near?

SH: Nigh. Neigh, my dear Watson, is for horses.

JW: I was close. Whatever, I'll just be the well-behaved alcoholic child in the family.

SH: If your parents have two alcoholic children perhaps it is not with Harry that the problem lies.

JW: I'm not an alcoholic yet. I think. What do you say? Am I an alcholic Sherlock? Am I going to turn init my sister? Will you bring me back my sanity? Oohh I'm bored, maybe I'll turn into you instead…

SH: No. I hope not, I don't want to live with her, it sounds distinctly unpleasant. I'll try. I doubt it.

JW: So you'll bring it back?

SH: Yes.

JW: Oh good, I miss it. How's your Christmas?

SH: Much improved. Books on identifying modern diseases and human osteology with full-sized photographs. Not as useful as Yorick, but.

JW: Trade you. Better than etiquette.

SH: I thought you were enjoying it! Besides, I know etiquette already.

JW: Diseases trump what flowers to put out when. Oh really, because you do a fantastic job hiding it.

SH: Sometimes. Most times. But I do know it.

JW: I don't doubt you understand manners, you just choose to ignore them.

JW: Now onto how to plan a wedding…where to register…

SH: Counterspy shop, Mayfair.

JW: Ignoring the obvious joke about our wedding.

SH: Whose?

JW: Nevermind. They sell blazers, I take it.

SH: No, they sell spy equipment. Are you quite drunk?

JW: Disguised as blazers.

SH: Two glasses?

JW: Two and a half.

SH: Bit of a lightweight, aren't you?

JW: I'm fine. Just sick.

SH: Of course you are.

JW: Not like I'm driving anywhere unfortnately. I should turn on autocorrect because my spelling is getting unique.

SH: Yes, nearly seventeenth century.

JW: Just a few extra letters.

SH: Indeed.

JW: You know, I miss the flat.

JW: Lime the rooms you know?

JW: Like.

SH: Flat, with rooms, yes.

JW: That chair misses me.

SH: I'm sure it would if it had feelings.

JW: Not enough chairs here. In the only one.

SH: I suppose I do miss Mycroft spying on me from a comfortable distance, rather than staring across the table pretending not to watch me.

JW: Cause I'm better at it. The not watching. They're making me go outside. I'm taking the phone.

SH: You are less creepy. Why are they sending you outside?

JW: I'm not sensical.

SH: If only I could do that with Scitland Yard.

SH: Scotland! This phone is mercurial.

JW: Hah it's catching

SH: I hope not.

JW: Karma.

SH: Nonsense.

JW: Or the phone waves from me to you, whichever you prefer

SH: 'phone waves'?

JW: Not quite sober yet.

SH: Really.

JW: Not that it's noticeable or anything

SH: Not at all.

JW: Yeah, I just said that.

SH: Yes, you did.

JW: Shut up Sherlock I can hear you patronising me again

SH: Yes, with the little voice in your head.

JW: Are you ever nice?

SH: Yes.

SH: Yes, I can be very nice.

JW: Describe.

SH: I'm nice to Mrs. Hudson sometimes.

JW: You yell at her and tell her to bring you things.

SH: a) so do you, and b) you don't know everything.

JW: Meaning?

SH: I hug her, I distract her. She has a son who hasn't visited since her husband was accused. We remind her of him, having boys about the house.

JW: Oh.

SH: Yes, oh.

JW: Well, I feel a bit of a prick now. I take it back.

SH: Really?

JW: Yes, I feel bad about it.

SH: Badly. Adverb.

SH: That one thing, that's enough, set against everything else, to not only stop you being cross with me, but make you upset with yourself?

SH: Why?

JW: Because you did something genuinely nice and that overrides my objections.

SH: Does it matter? Genuine, not genuine? Really?

JW: Yes

SH: Why?

JW: You have no reason to do that, Sherlock, so if it weren't genuine you wouldn't have done it, but you did, and that makes you a better person.

SH: I might have done.

JW: Admitting it is the first step. Ask Harry, she's taken it six times and then fallen down on her arse.

SH: I'm not sure you understand.

JW: No, you did something nice.

SH: Yes, sure, fine.

JW: I have it on record now.

SH: Unless I make things up with Mycroft.

JW: Unless I back it up, which I've just done.

SH: Ever hear of hacking, John?

JW: Still don't know my new password.

SH: Mycroft's people don't need it.

JW: He won't do it. Blackmail.

SH: He might. I have a few things on him myself.

JW: Well, fine.

SH: But I won't ask. Consider it a Christmas gift.

JW: Why thank you. A flatmate with feelings, just what I wanted.

SH: I thought you wanted to be an only child who lived alone.

JW: Next closest thing.

SH: Not really.

JW: Shut up.

SH: Never.

JW: Good thing I'm bringing home duct tape and fruitcake then.

SH: Duct tape? People might talk.

JW: They already do.

SH: True. Too much.

JW: It was the riding crop.

SH: Ah, so you do remember how we met!

JW: Of course I do. Got to go, familial obligations.

SH: Dull. Do you have enough sherry?

JW: Wore off too soon I'm afraid.

SH: Ask Harry what would be more effective.

JW: Brandy.

SH: That would do it. I look forward to the texts.

JW: After dinner.