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[He rolls his eyes at the first one, leaving his own post-its on the kettle so that John will see them when he makes tea.]

Not my fault you weren't in when I wanted to talk to you about it, come and find me when you are.

How hard can scuba diving be?

Yes.

[John's halfway through writing another series of sticky notes when he realizes how ridiculous this is. John just goes to find Sherlock in the house.]

So the toff's a serial killer, is he?

[How does Sherlock find these people?]

[Sherlock looks up from the book he's been reading, small smile curling his lips upwards. Monty has at least proven to be an interesting distraction.]

He is, but his victims are entirely limited to his own family members, so he's only liable to be a threat if he feels he might be exposed.

Which is why you don't want me to tell anyone. [John sighs and crosses his arms.] Don't do the smile thing, Sherlock. I assume you'll be keeping an eye on him, just in case? He might well be more dangerous than you expect.

[Miscalculations being what they are.]

Or Undertaker or Renart might be more dangerous...

Oh, he's incredibly dangerous. It took very little provocation for him to decide to kill most of his blood relatives and he clearly has no remorse for what he's done at all, I intend to keep a very close eye on him.

[Isn't this great, John?]

He seemed thrilled at my deductive capabilities, I think he also enjoys the game. He did, after all, challenge me to solve one of those murders. Though, admittedly, the only one he didn't commit himself.

[A little bit like Moriarty, the pleasure of the hunt and pitting one intelligent mind against another.]

[The parallels to Moriarty don't escape John, either. The doctor levels a concerned look at his friend.]

Just make sure it stays an actual game, please. [You don't need to be the first and the second murder in the Meadous.]

I noticed about Mycroft, by the way, but I'm not exactly a therapist, you know?

[And he struggles with his own PTSD issues.]

[He waves off John's concern as negligible for now, Monty truly isn't a threat, and moves the topic on accordingly.]

You've seen therapists for PTSD, I'm sure you're more than capable of emulating them. He needs something, he had a panic attack. In public.

[John levels a look at Sherlock.]

You realize you have PTSD, as well, right?

[To lie, or not to lie?]

Of course.

[He's not an idiot.]

But, unlike Mycroft, I can handle it myself. It's irrelevant.

Debatable. [Have a raised brow. Still, it's nice that Sherlock's... trying to help Mycroft.]

But I'll talk to him. Maybe tell him to go see Milla or something. [A pause as he things about the nightmares he saw in her mindscape.] Maybe Sasha.

No, you'll have to do it.

[The idea of any outsider seeing a Holmes like that, even his brother who he usually likes humiliating, is abhorrent.]

Do you really think Mycroft will willingly talk to anyone else?

Do you really think he'd be willing to talk to me? We're not exactly mates.

I'm sure you can make him see the wisdom in it, you're remarkably tenacious when you want to be.

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Holmes. [John sighs.] I'll see what I can do. There are too many people with that problem here, though. These places we've all been through... they're awful. [Obviously.] I dunno this place is much better for some. There's no transition. It's jarring.

Of course it is, even without the transfer to sudden suspicious calm there are some people who do not thrive in peace.

[Them, naturally, but there are others as well.]

...thank you, John. Mycroft does not suit the trembling persona.

No. He doesn't. [It had been unnerving for John to see the other man like that.]

Stop leaving sticky notes around the house for important things, by the way. And if I ever find one that says we're out of milk, I'm getting a pail of it and dumping it over your head. [Just so we're clear, Mr. Lazy Milk Fiend.]

How else should I tell you about them? You're always inconveniently not here when I remember what I need to talk to you about.

[Clearly this is John's fault.]

It would be easier if I could text you again.

Yeah, well, get back to me when you reinvent mobile phone technology. I can wish for a pair of HTs if it'll stop you doing that.

We already have the mobile phones, and defunct tablets in some cases, the only thing required would be a signal tower.

[He could wish for one of those, though the village might protest at him ruining their pastoral setting.]

It's not entirely necessary, post-it notes work well enough. It would be a more secure line of communication if you didn't keep letting people into our house.

You know how to actually wed a signal tower to different phones? Don't you need, like... SIM cards and things like that? [John's not an expert, but he's fairly sure it's more complicated than Sherlock's making it out to be.]

And sorry I'm making an attempt to have a social life. I know it's inconvenient. [Sarcasm drips from his tone.]

Edited 2017-09-24 15:48 (UTC)

[He has absolutely no idea how to set up a mobile phone signal, but how hard can it be? He can take their phones apart if necessary to figure it out.]

Inconvenient? No. Familiar, perhaps.

[Truth be told, he admires it just a bit. John can find himself anywhere and adapt, put down some roots, and find purpose. Sherlock is still mostly adrift, aimless, and growing more bored by the day.]

[Familiar. Because he's becoming easier here, getting settled. The thought rakes across his mood like claws.]

I don't have to have people over. Got in touch with the Blue kid. He's a prick. Dunno how well convincing him is gonna go, but he responded to my letter, at least.

Edited 2017-09-24 16:13 (UTC)

You should gather all of the correspondence you've had with any of the Gods and add them to the pile over there for easy comparison.

[He nods towards the mantelpiece where a letter opener is stabbed through his own letters with Deei.]

... Do I have to stab everything with a knife?

It helps with the creative thinking process.

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jumpthegun - 2017-09-24 16:34 (UTC) - Expand