AN:
Funky format is funky, so take a guide:
Two line breaks = Sherlock's text/typed correspondence
One line break = verbal conversation
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I stopped back at the house to pack and gather the rest of my supplies.
After an obscenely long (and, frankly, awkward) chewing out from my assistant, during which she threatened to feed me to her dermestids at least three times, she finally calmed down enough to be reasoned with. Of course, this is her I'm talking about, so there really wasn't much reasoning going on.
It was rather a lot of compromising on my part.
QUITE a lot of compromising.
...She started by (correctly) pointing out that driving here in America is not one of my strong suits, and somehow managed to talk me into letting her join me.
THIS WAS NOT HOW I INTENDED THIS INVESTIGATION TO GO.
Aww... Poor Holmes didn't get his way? :P
The network is for sharing INFORMATION, Chandler, not instant messaging.
Oh, give it up, Grumpypants.
Chandler.
Fine, fine.
Moriarty, New Mexico.
Yes.
It's a tiny place along Route 66. The population is, like... What, fifteen hundred?
Thereabouts, yes.
Huh. So, can we pull the "government agents" card or
I am sitting right across the table. We can discuss this verbally.
Oh. Right.
"Sooo... Government agents?" Octavia inquired, frowning as she peered at her laptop screen. Her brown hair had been pulled back into a clip at some point, but large sections had escaped and were falling into her face.
"Holmes." Sherlock continued to ignore her. She snickered as he yelped at the sensation of her sneakered foot connected with his shin.
"What the bloody-"
"Pay attention, yeah?"
"I don't have to allow you to join me, you know." He ground out, his oceanic eyes narrowed. Octavia merely blinked, an expression of contrived innocence plastered across her face as she continued.
"This is just fact-finding, right? I mean, you don't really think you're going to be able to... Take them out, or whatever. Right?" She asked, her green eyes studying him carefully.
"It depends entirely upon what I find when I get there." He replied, closing his laptop as he stood. "I'll suss out the details for the 'cover story'-" He stopped as she ran to block the doorway, spreading her arms out to make herself a more effective barrier.
"Yeah, no, if you think I'm going to let you outta my sight at the moment, you're rot as a detective. I don't trust you not to do a runner when my back's turned."
"Chandler, I promise I won't 'do a runner' before tomorrow morning. It would be pointless to do so, considering the fact that you know my intended destination and would doubtlessly follow me." She shrugged, silently agreeing with his statement, and tiredly rubbed her eyes.
"Yeah, s'true." She yawned. "See ya in the morning, Holmes. Get some sleep." With that, she turned and left the room, reaching up to remove the barrette from her hair. The chocolate brown locks that tumbled down past her shoulders sent his mind back to Christmas at Baker Street - to Molly Hooper's red lips and teary eyes. He shook his head, cementing himself in the present, and went off to find the charge cable for his laptop.
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My cover story: Sherman Howard, English businessman/amateur photographer on holiday. Interested in the landscapes of the American South-west.
And I'm his American relative. Or something.
Your input is not required at the moment, Chandler, so stop hacking into my Google documents.
Fine. :|
I've looked at photographs of the area surrounding the town... They're very... Pleasant, I suppose. Wide open spaces, to be sure.
I miss London.
Awww, Holmes...
CHANDLER. STOP.
Recipient: SHolmes
Subject: [Roadtrip, Day One]
Are you hungry? I'm hungry.
- C
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Recipient: OChan
Subject: Re:[Roadtrip, Day One]
WHY ARE YOU EMAILING ME WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING?!
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Recipient: SHolmes
Subject: Re: Re:[Roadtrip, Day One]
It's a stoplight. If it bothers you so much, you shouldn't respond. ;) But seriously - STARVING HERE. I did drive through lunchtime, after all...
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Recipient: OChan
Subject: Re: Re: Re:[Roadtrip, Day One]
...I suppose we could stop for something.
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Recipient: SHolmes
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re:[Roadtrip, Day One]
SCORE!
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"Soooo a couple of weeks ago I jokingly told my niece Maddy that you were actually a wizard from the Ministry of Magic."
Sherlock hummed in distracted acknowledgement as his assistant returned from her 'important phone call slash bathroom break'. "Considering she's Mark's kid, I thought she knew I was joking. Buuuuut... She thought I was serious and she apparently told her little friends that I know a real wizard and somehow I'm now suddenly at fault for ruining her classmate's birthday party. I don't even know any more."
She sighed deeply as she slouched against his back, her breath ruffling the curls above his ear.
"Don't DO that!" He hissed, sliding over in the booth so that she could no long rest her chin on his shoulder. "I would appreciate it if you would respect my personal spa-"
"Oh, way to be a hypocrite, Ho... Howard." She stumbled slightly on his name - something she'd been doing all day. "You're ALWAYS all up in my personal space, and you don't see me complaining. Much." She plopped down in the seat across from him and propped her elbows up on the table.
"So... We're gonna need to get a motel for the night, because there's no way I'm going to be able to drive all night. And no, I'm not letting you drive, so don't even start trying to convince me otherwise. It won't work." Having said her piece she flopped back against the patent leather backrest and sighed.
"I suppose that's fair." Sherlock admitted, relishing the opportunity to stretch his legs as he propped them up on the seat across from him. "Howeve-"
"Here's y'all's orders! Sorry it took so long - we're short two servers tonight." The syrupy-sweet Southern accent of their waitress interrupted him. "Did you need anything else, Sweetie? Something for your fries, maybe?" Sherlock sat in momentary confusion as his assistant sat up and ran her fingers along the top of his hand.
"We're good, thanks." She all but purred, watching the woman's face harden from the corner of her eye as she offered Sherlock the cherry from her shake. She waited until the woman returned to the kitchen before slouching once again and rolling her eyes at her assistant's - partner's? - expression of bemusement.
"You have no idea what just happened there, do you." She said, taking a handful of fries and lining them up on her burger.
"Well, from an anthropological viewpoint, it appeared as though you were staking a claim on m-" She raised her hand, cutting him off.
"Yeah, you wish." She said, refusing to look him in the eye as she finished dressing her burger. "She thought you were cute. She would've kept finding excuses to come over here to talk to you, which would delay us. I nipped it in the bud, that's all. Now eat your damn chili so we can get out of here."
Sherlock decided not to mention her deep blush at the moment - but, being the skilled detective he was, it was noted and filed away in the expanding room set aside in his Mind Palace for this fascinating, infuriating, and occasionally enchanting woman.
As he did so, there came a mad giggle from a padlocked room in his Mind Palace.
"Ooo, Sherlock... Better not get too attached..." Moriarty grinned as he reached into his pocket and drew out a thin length of wire.
"I'd just HATE for something to happen to her, Sherlock..."