028 || dictated;

[workaphilic]

[The journal opens to the sound of footsteps on these very icy hallways, and the voice of your very favorite giant toolbag, mid-sentence.

He's rambling, a little.]

-- not impossible to suppose I may have overlooked some potential of the castle's recent redecoration. Not to say that it isn't insipid, of course, because it is, but if we're to suffer this through the holiday, there must be something, something, something....

[There's a pause. He climbs onto one of the ice couches in one of the ice hallways, stands braced with one foot on the arm and the other on the not-so cushions, ostensibly to look at the wall.

When in doubt, climb furniture.]

Oh, yes. I can 'make it work,' as it were.

((Open, both over the journal and in person! Feel free to run into him anywhere in the castle; he's super bored, and will be climbing shit anywhere and everywhere. Also, kissmas shenanigans (planned or unplanned) are welcome!))

Comments

[workaphilic]

[He doesn't bother to answer. There's a familiar tug of magic, and he leans in for the kiss.

So much for strictly business.]

[theabjectauthor]

[he fights it, horrified, for all of nanoseconds, until Sherlock's lips meet his. and then, well.

it's not the best kiss, it's still quite awkward, and somewhat brief as magical ones go - but it's definitely a kiss.]

[workaphilic]

[As soon as it's lasted long enough to appease the castle, Sherlock releases him and goes right back to what he was doing, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. Not much of a sweet-talker, this one.]

1/IDEK

[theabjectauthor]

[theabjectauthor]

[theabjectauthor]

[theabjectauthor]

[well he's not about to judge if that's how he swings, but]

[theabjectauthor]

[well]

[theabjectauthor]

[wait. he kissed him back]

[theabjectauthor]

[and THAT IS NOT NORMAL because well

it just

it isn't, okay.

certain icons like this one are surprisingly deceptive]

okay done

[theabjectauthor]

[his brain settles back into place, and he finally finds breathing room, and the words, to be properly horrified]

What in heaven's name just happened?!

LMFAO

[workaphilic]

[Sherlock SIGHS and presses one hand against the wall, rolling his eyes. He starts to say something, but it seems to get stuck in his throat, which just annoys him more.

Redirect.]

Are you honestly going to have me explain?

/bows

[theabjectauthor]

... [yet again, asking the wrong questions. in that way, at least, Sherlock reminds him of his old mentor, and he can't help but sigh, chagrinned]

Very well, then... let me rephrase. How could that be possible, and why?

[workaphilic]

[He answers like he's half-distracted. Which he is, nose-to-wall again.]

Magic, and because that's what the castle does in December.

[theabjectauthor]

Oh.

[he scowls at the offending nutcracker for a moment, before taking a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and using it to pick the thing up. quickly, he scurries to the door, opens it, and tosses the tchotchke out into the snow.

there.

much better]

[workaphilic]

[Sherlock watches him go, halfway amused, and calls over his shoulder:]

Best to get used to it. It's extremely unlikely I'll be your only partner.