IC Inbox (v1.0)

[jumpthegun]

You've reached Dr. John Watson. Please leave a message.

Comments

[howdull]

Urgh.

[It's a frustrated noise and Sherlock bats the board to one side and gets up, utterly at the end of his patience.]

This is ridiculous, John, if I give you any more information then I may as well be spoon feeding you the answer. Put yourself in my shoes, in the victim's shoes, and walk through the evening.

[jumpthegun]

[John bristles. This is stupid. He should just stop playing and try to go back to sleep. Except worse things are waiting for him in his dreams than a petulant Sherlock Holmes. He can at least lie down next to Mary and stare at the dark ceiling. The doctor is feeling significantly less vulnerable now than when he'd made his plea for Sherlock not to leave him.

But it's he doesn't like losing, even if Sherlock is far worse about it. John crosses his arms and glares down at the upset board.]

It was Mrs. Peacock in the ballroom with the candlestick. White and Scarlett were probably making a scene, a loud one, between being drunk and disorderly. Peacock used that distraction to club Mr. Holmes over the head with the candlestick and drag him out as fast as she could after he was being an insulting berk to her. Ms. Scarlett's probably already used to the barbs if she's been cited, so she'd be able to deal with Mr. Holmes making jabs. That leaves Peacock, who doesn't have a criminal record, but might have some other secret. Something Mr. Holmes learned when she accidentally spilled her wine on him.

[howdull]

[For just a few moments, it's all Sherlock can do to stare. Is this how John looks when Sherlock issues a deduction, all open mouthed and foolish? But then his surprise melts into a sudden approving grin.]

Exactly right!

[See, he knew that John must have picked something up watching him all those years.]

I couldn't have put it better myself. I mean, I could have put it the same way after a fraction of the time, but-- Well done, John. Well deduced.

[jumpthegun]

[John blinks a few times, his irritation fading away for the praise, and his own expression lightening.]

What, really?

[Sherlock's approval really shouldn't have any sway on his mood at this point in John's life, but he can't help it. Something like this is rare and precious.]

That was... that was almost fun. Hah! [He quiets down quickly.] You're a bloody awful GM, though. Never play DnD.

[howdull]

What are you talking about?

[Seriously... GM? DnD? What did these acronyms have to do with Cluedo?]

[jumpthegun]

[Sherlock's confusion just makes John's smile soften as he shakes his head.]

I'm gonna try to lie down again. Get some sleep yourself, yeah?

[howdull]

[He can feel the bottle of drugs he successfully palmed earlier in his pocket, and the guilt over taking them is no longer there now that John is doing better, so he simply nods.]

I might, I have some thinking to do, but I shall see you in the morning either way.

[jumpthegun]

Sure. [John starts to get up, then pauses.] Thanks, Sherlock. Night.

[He moves off quietly to lie down again, slipping in next to Mary. Sherlock will find, perhaps to his chagrin, that he's managed to snatch the bottle of Ritalin.]