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

/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.