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.