009 || written/dictated;

[workaphilic]

[ 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.]

Comments

[workaphilic]

[He looks a bit miffed.]

Do you realize how difficult a request that is? It's not as if I can turn it off and on whenever I like.

[confidente]

Then you'll have to figure something out. [ SIT DOWN AND START EATING SHERLOCK. ] We can't make it too easy for you.

[workaphilic]

Fine. Not as if I need the extra data, anyway, it'll be simple enough even without it.

[He sits, huffily, with his legs folded underneath him. He jabs his fork around in his food for a couple seconds before he takes a bite, almost carelessly.

It's kind of like a dam breaking, or how sometimes you don't feel how hungry you are until you actually start eating. Either way, he's nearly shoveling it in now, and he doesn't seem to realize it.]

[confidente]

Nice to see the lack of sleep or food hasn't damaged your ego.

[ If he wasn't already convinced of it before he certainly is now. He laughs, digging into his own food though not nearly as fast as Sherlock. He at least ate SOMETHING during his camping out in the clinic. ]

Try not to choke.

[workaphilic]

[He rolls his eyes, but his mouth is full, so...]

Mmnt fee reffickumus.





[wow.]

[confidente]

[ John laughs hard, dropping his fork into his bowl and leaning back on his chair. ]

What was that? I didn't quite hear you.

[workaphilic]

[He swallows and GLARES. DON'T LAUGH AT HIM. B(]

You heard me fine. Shut up.

[confidente]

[ Nope, he's still laughing. ]

I heard something but certainly wasn't words.

[workaphilic]

[oh my god you are the worst stop it B(]

It was close enough. I won't repeat myself.

[confidente]

It was barely english, Sherlock. [ HE IS THE BEST. THE BEST. THE BEST. ]

[workaphilic]

All the important phonemes were there. It's not my fault you don't know how to listen properly.

[confidente]

I wasn't the one with my mouth full of food. [ At least his laughter has died down to a chuckle now as he finishes off his meal. ]

[workaphilic]

[A huff.]

You kept insisting that I eat, so I ate.

[confidente]

[ Pfft. ] That wasn't eating, that was inhaling.

[workaphilic]

[pau...se.]

... I may have been slightly hungry.

[confidente]

I think slightly is a bit of an understatement.

[workaphilic]

[He waves his free hand dismissively and scrapes around the edge of his bowl with his fork.]

Pointless distinction.

[confidente]

[ Flippant shrug clearing up the remnants of his own bowl. ]

If you say so.

[workaphilic]

[He DOES say so. He's silent for a few seconds while he tries to wring every last drop of sustenance from his bowl -- and then, casually:]

So. Doctor, nurse, or have you decided to embrace the "healers"?

[confidente]

What?

[workaphilic]

[He shrugs like it's not important.]

Fairly obvious where you've been spending most of your time, lately.

[confidente]

Are you asking if I'm seeing anyone? [ Is that what is happening here? ]

[workaphilic]

Only a handful of reasons to be spending that much time. Not financial, obviously. Not boredom, and certainly not looking for a sense of normalcy. Assuming you aren't deathly ill, the most probable explanation would be....

[Well. He can't say, not directly. But you can fill in the blanks, right, John?]

[confidente]

[ He can and he pulls a face, shaking his head. ] No. No. I'm not seeing anyone.

[workaphilic]

No? [He squints, like he's trying to decide if John's lying or not.] Hm. Possible you just don't know it yet, I suppose.