Sherlock Holmes (
workaphilic) wrote in
paradisa2012-01-24 12:23 am
Entry tags:
009 || written/dictated;
[ Private ]
[The journal opens to Sherlock already talking. The sentence stutters before the filter is written in, then continues smoothly as soon as the restrictions of his loss are appeased.]
-- clearly a hardy subspecies, then, at least in terms of temperature patterns. Fitting, given the circumstances of the "gift." Interesting choice, actually, managed not to be completely boring. More interesting that the castle seems to care all of the sudden about my entertainment.
[The bees have been moved back into the sitting room because, well, John's not here anymore to complain about it, is he? Good for the bees, because the dampness of the bathroom was threatening to damage the integrity of the hive. Good for Sherlock, because he's already deciphered the duties and movement patterns of worker bees based on their relative age and the needs of the colony.]
Probably a placation, and a good one. Most residents receive mementos or objects of emotional significance from home. Makes them feel nostalgic, but it's the safe kind of nostalgia, something they have the castle to thank for.
[He gets so much more done when he's alone. Far too many petty restrictions to adhere to otherwise.
It's better, supposed to be better, should be better.]
Provides them with a sense of normalcy and ingratiates them to the castle without interrupting the status quo. Obvious. But apparently effective.
[Except he's going on three days without sleep, now, and it isn't because the bees are captivating enough to warrant it. (Though they are that, too. Fascinating creatures.) There's a nagging in the back of his mind, nagging, nagging, nagging. Persistent and annoying. Keeps him from thinking, keeps him from not thinking.
A pause, and he exhales noisily.]
Status quo.
----
[ John Watson ]
Stop being an idiot.
SH
[........ Okay, well. Not the best start, admittedly. Baby steps.]
----
[When he's finished, he lingers, letting the tip of his pen tap rapidly against the page. He's been distracted, hasn't been as up-to-date on the journal as he usually is. But now that's he's skimming it again -- god, sometimes he really just CAN'T STAND you people.]
Tell me, residents. What is it like?
[There's an edge in his tone that he's not really bothering to hide -- not overtly malicious but certainly not all sunshine and daisies, either. Might as well hang a signpost reading HERE BE DOUCHEBAGGERY, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.]
[The journal opens to Sherlock already talking. The sentence stutters before the filter is written in, then continues smoothly as soon as the restrictions of his loss are appeased.]
-- clearly a hardy subspecies, then, at least in terms of temperature patterns. Fitting, given the circumstances of the "gift." Interesting choice, actually, managed not to be completely boring. More interesting that the castle seems to care all of the sudden about my entertainment.
[The bees have been moved back into the sitting room because, well, John's not here anymore to complain about it, is he? Good for the bees, because the dampness of the bathroom was threatening to damage the integrity of the hive. Good for Sherlock, because he's already deciphered the duties and movement patterns of worker bees based on their relative age and the needs of the colony.]
Probably a placation, and a good one. Most residents receive mementos or objects of emotional significance from home. Makes them feel nostalgic, but it's the safe kind of nostalgia, something they have the castle to thank for.
[He gets so much more done when he's alone. Far too many petty restrictions to adhere to otherwise.
It's better, supposed to be better, should be better.]
Provides them with a sense of normalcy and ingratiates them to the castle without interrupting the status quo. Obvious. But apparently effective.
[Except he's going on three days without sleep, now, and it isn't because the bees are captivating enough to warrant it. (Though they are that, too. Fascinating creatures.) There's a nagging in the back of his mind, nagging, nagging, nagging. Persistent and annoying. Keeps him from thinking, keeps him from not thinking.
A pause, and he exhales noisily.]
Status quo.
----
[ John Watson ]
Stop being an idiot.
SH
[........ Okay, well. Not the best start, admittedly. Baby steps.]
----
[When he's finished, he lingers, letting the tip of his pen tap rapidly against the page. He's been distracted, hasn't been as up-to-date on the journal as he usually is. But now that's he's skimming it again -- god, sometimes he really just CAN'T STAND you people.]
Tell me, residents. What is it like?
[There's an edge in his tone that he's not really bothering to hide -- not overtly malicious but certainly not all sunshine and daisies, either. Might as well hang a signpost reading HERE BE DOUCHEBAGGERY, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.]

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You sound like you're about to go on one of your douchebag tirades, so I'm guessing it's how all the other residents are oh so below your impressive genius.
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That's not a healthy habit, in case no one's ever told you.
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Those are the examples you come up with? Sometimes I think being boring is actually the only thing you know how to do properly.
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Because I find you boring.
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Why? To 'add to the net amount of sin in the castle'? [There's a bark of derisive laughter.] Because people are perfectly capable of doing that themselves. They hardly need the help. Your contribution in that regard is beyond insignificant.
You're superfluous. Pointless, useless. By all means, continue clinging to your waste of a calling, but don't try to pretend it's anything other than what it is. A waste.
I'll call you boring until the day you decide to start being interesting.
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Having a bit of stressful day, are we? Did your little rant make you feel better?
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A+ troll, nicely done.]
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