037 || dictated;

[workaphilic]

[It's been some time since Sherlock's touched the journal. He'd been licking his wounds after the Event Horizon, carefully putting himself back in order. It's more difficult than it sounds, building his mind back from the bottom up.

But when the journal opens today, it's not Sherlock's voice, but a young girl's. She's frank and well-spoken for a child her age, ever her father's daughter.]

Hi, everyone. I'm Rachel, and this is Gladstone.

[A dog barks appropriately. Hello, everyone.]

We're bored. But Daddy's hogging the microscope, and since Mommy and Billie aren't here, we decided we'd come say hi to all of you. Right, Gladstone?

[More barking, which seems to finally summon Sherlock's attention. His voice is fainter, in the background.]

Rachel, give me that.

[She presses the journal closer to her face, and talks fast.]

He's coming! He's grumpy, but don't worry, he just needs to go outside and see the bees. Remember, bees!

[She dissolves into giggles as Sherlock seizes the journal from her.]

We'll go soon. Be patient.

[Then he turns to the journal, open in his palm, and his voice gets slightly awkward around the edges.]

That's all, residents. Go on to the next page.

Comments

[silentrunning]

[But someone does reply.]

Hi, Rachel. Hi, Gladstone.

[This is written, of course, in a scribbly handwriting.]

[workaphilic]

[Sherlock groans.]

They're occupied at the moment.

[They aren't. The journal picks up more barking and Rachel shrieking with laughter in the background.]

[silentrunning]

[Chell draws a smiley face.]

Weeelll... Ok. Just tell them hi from me then? Rachel seems very polite, and if someone says hi, I generally reply.

[workaphilic]

She's bored. [That's where his politeness comes from, anyway. With her, it's not quite the same, but the statement is still true.] It's a game, that's all.

[silentrunning]

[Chell's confused, but she'll let it drop if he likes.]

well, okay. But that's very confusing.

[heloise]

[ Here is laughing at your misfortune, Sherlock. ]

Rachel is a good name. How many years do you have?

[workaphilic]

[Ugh, not his day.

Sherlock answers for her.]

Four.

[Except she feels a need to call from over his shoulder anyway:]

Four and a quarter!

[heloise]

Four and a quarter!

What luck. I may have a playmate for you.

[workaphilic]

[Oh, god, did he just stumble into a playdate? Abort, abort!]

I don't think--

Will they play with Gladstone, too?

[heloise]

If Gladstone promises to behave.

[workaphilic]

Gladstone is always behaved.

[Sherlock dealt with hating his dog by making his dog less hateful.]

He used to break things. He doesn't anymore, though. Do they want to come see Daddy's bees?

[heloise]

[ Excellent tactic. ]

Honey bees?

[workaphilic]

Apis mellifera mellifera.

[She sounds proud to have remembered.

There's a pause, and when Sherlock speaks there's a thread of something warm there.]

The European honey bee, yes.

[heloise]

Honey-bearing. [ That is, mellifera. ]

Abel would enjoy honey, though not bees unfortunately.

[ He might try to eat them! ]

[workaphilic]

Okay. [She says it the same way someone might say 'your loss.'] We can still play, I guess.

Later. [He's speaking sternly, grappling over control over his daughter-that-isn't.] Half hour, at least. I need to finish this.

[heloise]

[ But bees sting and stuff, even when being chewed up! ]

I could keep her company while you work. Abel can, and Gladstone.

[workaphilic]

I wouldn't subject you to the both of them.

[Rachel sighs extravagantly. It's very reminiscent of a certain someone in her family.

Regardless, he just refuses to let her go somewhere he isn't.]

[heloise]

What about the three of you?