ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

[confidente]

[ There is relatively loud exclamation of surprise in the background when the journal opens (or is knocked open, you never really know with it) followed by some more sounds, distress mostly and growing anger--what you would generally expect from a person who found something they were certainly not expecting. ]

Sherlock! [ It's faint at first, but the anger is unmistakeable when a door is slammed shut hurriedly. ]

Sherlock!

[ John marches into the kitchen, wrapped in his bathrobe, barely wet hair clinging to his forehead as it furrows in frustration. This is the last straw. He's had it. Little things have been nagging at him for weeks, little stupid things that didn't deserve more than a stern discussion (another chemical stain in the kitchen table, lungs where the leftovers used to be, waking up at two am to hammering--stupid things that are simply apart of living with Sherlock Holmes). ]

There are bees in the bathroom! The bloody--Why are there bees in the bathroom, Sherlock?


(ooc; open journal wise. they may both reply, if they feel so inclined. I WELCOME ALL THE THREAD JACKING.)

Comments

[workaphilic]

[He's at his microscope, focused and apparently unfazed. Can't even be bothered to look up.

He adjusts the magnification and sighs.]

Because you objected to keeping them in the sitting room. Where else were they going to go?

[confidente]

No, Sherlock, they were to go outside. You don't keep a bloody beehive in a flat, let alone in the bathroom. [ Don't ignore him, don't. He's actually mad this time, not annoyed. ]

[workaphilic]

[His gaze flickers from the microscope to John and back again. If he can tell that he's in more trouble than usual, he's doing a damn good job of seeming unconcerned about it. When he speaks he sounds vaguely affronted.]

It's cold outside. They aren't any good to me hibernating.

[confidente]

[ John tenses (more so than usual), arms crossing and frown increasing. The unconcerned attitude Sherlock appears to taking on it really isn't helping. ]

I don't care if there's a bloody blizzard outside, Sherlock, I told you to put the damn hive outside.

dictated;

[gevurah]

[ She recognizes Watson's voice, but more importantly... bees. And Sherlock. ]

Tending to crops come spring?

[confidente]

If only.

[gevurah]

Just a strange hobby of collecting beehives?

[confidente]

God no, that would be too boring for the great Sherlock Holmes. [ Exasperated sigh. Frustration levels are still pretty high, at himself and... everything. ]

[workaphilic]

[Oops, no, now he's upset too. His bitchiness filter has pretty much been obliterated by this point.]

Oh, yes, because not only am I spectacularly boring, I'm also incapable of using the nigh-infinite resources that are already available to me.

Stupid, pointless, and dull in under six words. Bravo.

[gevurah]

[ She's not really at the point yet where she's offended. ]

Has nothing to do with incapability or not; some residents tend to not use them. [ She doesn't really like to herself if she can help it. Fucking magic. ]

[workaphilic]

A moronic choice if I've ever heard one. Might as well be rendered incapable by their own stupidity.

[onlyanapple]

Awwww, has he finally opened his heart and allowed pets into it?

He grew up so fast.

[workaphilic]

[SERIOUSLY NOT IN THE MOOD FOR YOU, CROWLEY. He's about to go flip every table in this goddamn castle.]

Asinine commentary. Wish I could say I was surprised, but it's really your specialty, isn't it?

[onlyanapple]

[Oh, but Messing Sherlock Around is one of Crowley's new favourite pasttimes. In almost a purr]

Oh baby, don't be like that. I know last time we spoke things got said, but there's no need to hold grudges.

[workaphilic]

Not interested in being bored by you today, thank you. Find someone else to heckle if you're so desperate for the attention.

[confidente]

[ DAMMIT CROWLEY. John groans, wanting nothing more than to throw the bloody journal into a fire or something. This is another reason he doesn't like this place at all. ]

[onlyanapple]

Are you two having some sort of tiff? You should close the journal for that, you know.

[ectobabble]

[genuinely interested] What d'you need the bees for, this time of year?

[workaphilic]

[His response is clipped and terse -- which for right now is him actually showing some restraint.]

It's an experiment.

[ectobabble]

Well, I figured that... but what kind of experiment? Can I help?

[isbritishgov]

[He's heard all of it yup and now he's not at all happy you two.

Not. Happy. At all.

Which explains the less pleasant sounding voice here.]

If you two are done acting like children, perhaps you two would like to discuss this in more, polite tones of voice?

[confidente]

[ John doesn't bother answering this until he is well out of the castle, this much is obvious by the crunching of snow underneath his shoes. He should have gotten a coat before he stormed out here. ]

You're a bit late, Mycroft.

[isbritishgov]

[Oh yes he totally hears that, and he's not happy, not happy at all. He totally needs to put video cameras up in their room really.]

I thought perhaps you two would, be mature enough to resolve this on your own. Especially you, John.

[workaphilic]

[NO. Nope. No. He will seriously wreck something.]

Go away.

[isbritishgov]

[Go ahead Sherlock really. Do it. He won't care if you wreck something.]

No. [And he's sounding firm there.]