paradisa | ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

[ 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.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

Bit late for that now, isn't it? [ UGH. ]

Oh, but it's never too late for that.

I'm not too sure. [ The entire castle has likely already heard the brunt of it. ]

--Don't rile him up anymore, you're not helping. [ Yes, he saw that. And despite everything he... ] Just leave him be, alright.

What's in it for me? Because at the moment, riling him up is in my best interest, I add to the net amount of sin in the castle and can sleep knowing I've done my job.

You need to top that.