017 || dictated;

[workaphilic]

[Anyone looking for Sherlock today can find him outside by the duck pond. He has his journal open in his palm, but other than that he doesn't seem to be doing anything other than standing and watching.

Specifically, watching a little girl with dark, messy curls and her pants rolled to her knees splash around in the shallows.]

No points for creativity, yet again. Can't be blamed, though. It gets the job done, and there's something to be said for long term investment. [He sounds almost... impressed?] No reason to change a winning formula.

Those of you somehow surprised by this turn of events should pay better attention.

[There's an excited sort of shriek from somewhere far away, and Sherlock's voice gets fainter as he turns away from the journal.]

Daddy! Daddy, look at this, come see!

Yes, yes. Bring it here.

Comments

[exanimatus]

I'll let you know about the basement if the leash doesn't work out.

[aha... kidding. mostly kidding.]

If you last the week without her getting upset, it'll probably stay as tame as it has. Speaking otherwise, I suppose dissolving into flying fish is about as bad as teleporting anyway.

[workaphilic]

Might be worse. I'd rather not find out.

[But by his tone, he knows the chances of avoiding that altogether are pretty slim.]

[exanimatus]

[which makes him smirk a little... before he stops talking and just watches the kids to make sure his doesn't try boiling everything alive.]

[workaphilic]

[Zelman if your kid boils his kid alive we are going to have words.

But, no, Rachel seems endlessly pleased at this turn of events. She keeps pulling things out of the pond to show the other girl. This time it's a bug! Neat.]