[While Sherlock is utterly unaware of the connection between this Moriarty and the text post, he does frequently check the list of people coming and going. It is habitual, so when he sees another Moriarty directly below Jamie Moriarty's name, it is only natural he investigates.
After all, there is a John Watson. He will not leave things to coincidence.
He decides to make it a video transmission for very obvious reasons. He wishes to see how this man with this name reacts.]
Hello, Moriarty. It is possible that my name is unfamiliar, but also unlikely. At least, that is what your counterpart believes. There cannot be a Holmes without a Moriarty ... or so she claims. What would you claim?
[ this is fun. isn't this fun? the army of Holmes didn't exactly escape his notice, but what to do with them had left him with another ream of questions entirely. then had come one, entirely apart from the man he knows (but it would be funny though, wouldn't it? he wonders idly how much it must grate at poor Sherlock to communicate with the rest, how much he itches to reach through the screen and throttle them every time they talk), and now this...
an unfamiliar face, an unfamiliar voice, but the name's the same. there's mention of the counterpart and his grin grows, slow and slight, before dying altogether as he reaches to open up his end of the feed.]
Ah— hello. [ the Irish tone skips light and caught out, deer vaguely startled by an errant flashlight but used enough to human company not to bolt. ] Sherlock... Sherlock Holmes. Hah. Wow. This is weird.
[he's all vague smiles, all nervous tensions - just a temporary game, he doubts he'll play long, but it'll be fun to see if this man's any more adept at noticing him steal away lies in pure daylight (expression) than his other had been back at Bart's. the variables are all different, the game doesn't have the same rules, but it's something to pass the time with while he taps away at replies to the entry.]
Sorry. Yes. Yes, hello. I do know a Sherlock, yes.
[Perhaps if he didn't have his own experiences with Irene—with Moriarty—he would have been readily fooled by the deer-in-headlights look, but instead, he sees a different face. He sees a man who is sharp, who is potentially testing him ... or not. It's possible that it could be both. It could be that he defaults to this. Sherlock leaves room for error. He is confident in his deductions (he is Sherlock, after all), but he knows there is always room for error. Always.
Especially with the name "Moriarty." It is a law he has since accepted. With much reluctance and a bit of disdain.
He offers a strained smile in return, but it doesn't last long, almost as if Sherlock is grimacing with the attempt.]
Yes, you do. You most certainly do. [There's a pause, and he actually moves with his bracelet into a sitting position, and there's a shuffle—within the shuffle, Moriarty can see a room in Odin, with books stacked around a bed that seem as if it's a man quickly reading up on almost too many studies, but otherwise, there is nothing to note ... it's all cultural, all different worlds that may or may not be familiar—and then he settles. It was all purposeful on Sherlock's part, a way of revealing a piece of himself. It's fitting, considering what he says next:] I'd like to see the real you now. I've my own experiences with my own Moriarty. She's quite the ... artist at playing roles. You'll never be as accomplished as her. [In part because she is a woman. The woman, in many ways.]
[haha. oh, nice. having a him (or a her, and that's something worth exploring) has entirely changed the field, entirely upended the board. it might be frustrating - if he had any real reason to hide. but he doesn't, does he?
there's the Sherlock he knows. there's John. he's already a found man, just a matter of time—
besides. why tiptoe about when he could just as easily dance?
the change, such as it is, is immediate. rounded shoulders ease and drop, posture straightens (and though previously only slightly out of line, the effect is dramatic). but the clearest thing, the most poignant shift in state, happens in the face. all those little tensions, the jerks and twinges of tiny little muscles caught up in a battle for control and clarity, fall. the tentative smile is gone. the raised brows, startled surprise is gone. in fact— in fact, everything's gone. suddenly, he is untraceable. there's not an inch of anything left in him - or perhaps, and more likely, there's plenty, but you can't see past the building's false face to know whether it's teeming or derelict.]
Hello, Sherlock. [the word sits bitter on his tongue even as he drinks in the man's little offerings, takes what he can from the glimpse he's spared. it's not a lot. the conversation, he trusts, will be worth more.] Pleased to see you aren't stupid.
[and now, now comes a smile, tweaking up at unnatural and entirely uncomfortable yet sleekly soft angles, small and slight and discordant and horribly at home in his face. it's light, gentle and absolutely, irrefutably (if it weren't for the death in his eyes) f o n d.]
[The really fascinating thing is the similarities between them, the sudden alteration in body language. Both the male and female Moriarty happened to be experts in body language, happened to be experts in crafting themselves into being someone they weren't. Sherlock is capable of this, too, but he rarely, if ever, goes with the lie. He can handle an accent, use a turn of phrase, pretend to be rougher or different, but he usually just utilizes himself, as if he's asserting himself onto board where the puzzle is laid out and waiting.
But the way they go about it is different, like they're a pair of blank slates waiting for the opportunity to imprint something upon themselves. He idly wonders if Jim is an artist. He imagines he'll find out in time.]
My intelligence was never in question. [It's a graceful, easy reply, considering that his conversations with his own Moriarty would become sharper. But this is an introduction. He is not taken with this man, nor will he ever be. This man will never be a weak spot, a point he's eternally grateful about.] My uniqueness on the other hand, that's different. I feared I was the only one who had that threatened upon arriving here.
[A white lie. He neither worried nor cared much about it. Sherlock sees himself as utterly different from the other Sherlock. He's completely comfortable (and even pleased) with the fact. To have his extraordinary status ripped away from him wasn't even a point of adjustment.]
Threatened? No. Bless. [not about him, not about Sherlock at all - he's fishing, and woe betide he who throws lures to a dolphin who's no time for friends. I see you. I see you.
so, instead of dancing to a merry piper's tune (though he's got plenty to say on the matter, none of it informed and he'd really much rather wait and see), he gives that one little insight and dives off in another direction entirely:] Have you got a Watson?
[it's a big question. Watson, in his experience, is entirely synonymous with a catalyst for rot. are you withered, Sherlock? are you withering?]
[Not at the moment, he doesn't, and that's the reason for the response.
(Plus, he wishes to protect her identity.)
He does have a Watson, but he keeps the fact that she exists in his life away from his features. Sherlock is careful not to give away any indications that he's lying. There are discrepancies, of course, just so it isn't a perfect imitation, but it is close enough.]
But I have met the Watson here. The one I believe you are familiar with.
[in the end, he finds it not in the face but in the words. "the Watson". falling unceremoniously into Jim's implication of "Watson" as a universal presence - the, not a, or just Watson. I've met the Watson. suggesting importance. suggesting relevance. suggesting, by extension of context, a plural.
of course, there's margin for error. "the" isn't exactly an uncommon word.
still, in situations like this, it does so help to have a gut worth trusting.
his pokerface is just as adept, only it manifests in the opposite way - an active quirk to his smile, dismissive? hungry. ]
[In honor of the Earth holiday centering on love, Freya sends out a little gift around this time.
A small box containing a piece of chocolate will appear on your pillow during the day. When consumed, the chocolate’s magic will lift your mood for a short period of time. It’s accompanied by a note.]
Where love might bring about sorrow, it also welcomes joy.
[ In honour of the god centering on love being a giant frilly prissypants, Loki sends his own little gift just a few hours after hers.
His box of chocolate will look, smell, and taste exactly like Freya's did, appearing right next to where Freya's was or is if you haven't picked it up yet. The only difference between the two is that Loki's won't lift your mood; it'll give you loud and embarrassing flatulence for the next three hours.
It's also accompanied by a note. ]
Where joy might bring about yearning, it also welcomes wonder.
[He's found the card, he's seen a bunch of them, really, given he's not blind. And, well, one can't just ignore when an acquaintance opens up a business. Congratulations might be in order, however...]
Such a broad offer. Just when I started to feel special.
As it happens. [o h. now isn't this interesting? she's been in his thoughts for a while now, ever since their meeting, ever since she became more intriguing than just a friend of John Watson but he's not been entirely decisive on what to do with her. that she's coming up now seems...
well, it's perfect really, isn't it?
there's a lot more he could say, and will in due time. for now, he's silent. d o carry on.]
Whenever you do that I do so wish I could see you in person.
[It's hard to read people like Moriarty even under the best circumstances. Over text is very far away from the best.]
She's very avid in her arguing against me, as you might have noticed. Plus, she can take care of herself. Both traits that make her an attractive target to give to someone you're perhaps not that attached to just yet.
It helps that he's keen to get his hands on her. She was the assignment Tom gave him, did you know?
["Tom" because Voldemort is literally the most repulsive name in this or any universe and he refuses to type it even once more and dirty his perfectly manicured fingers thanks did you follow a guy who called himself voldemort barty did you really
it's also likely not remotely a coincidence he's chosen to mention this are you keeping things from me how rude]
video.
After all, there is a John Watson. He will not leave things to coincidence.
He decides to make it a video transmission for very obvious reasons. He wishes to see how this man with this name reacts.]
Hello, Moriarty. It is possible that my name is unfamiliar, but also unlikely. At least, that is what your counterpart believes. There cannot be a Holmes without a Moriarty ... or so she claims. What would you claim?
video.
an unfamiliar face, an unfamiliar voice, but the name's the same. there's mention of the counterpart and his grin grows, slow and slight, before dying altogether as he reaches to open up his end of the feed.]
Ah— hello. [ the Irish tone skips light and caught out, deer vaguely startled by an errant flashlight but used enough to human company not to bolt. ] Sherlock... Sherlock Holmes. Hah. Wow. This is weird.
[he's all vague smiles, all nervous tensions - just a temporary game, he doubts he'll play long, but it'll be fun to see if this man's any more adept at noticing him steal away lies in pure daylight (expression) than his other had been back at Bart's. the variables are all different, the game doesn't have the same rules, but it's something to pass the time with while he taps away at replies to the entry.]
Sorry. Yes. Yes, hello. I do know a Sherlock, yes.
video.
Especially with the name "Moriarty." It is a law he has since accepted. With much reluctance and a bit of disdain.
He offers a strained smile in return, but it doesn't last long, almost as if Sherlock is grimacing with the attempt.]
Yes, you do. You most certainly do. [There's a pause, and he actually moves with his bracelet into a sitting position, and there's a shuffle—within the shuffle, Moriarty can see a room in Odin, with books stacked around a bed that seem as if it's a man quickly reading up on almost too many studies, but otherwise, there is nothing to note ... it's all cultural, all different worlds that may or may not be familiar—and then he settles. It was all purposeful on Sherlock's part, a way of revealing a piece of himself. It's fitting, considering what he says next:] I'd like to see the real you now. I've my own experiences with my own Moriarty. She's quite the ... artist at playing roles. You'll never be as accomplished as her. [In part because she is a woman. The woman, in many ways.]
video.
there's the Sherlock he knows. there's John. he's already a found man, just a matter of time—
besides. why tiptoe about when he could just as easily dance?
the change, such as it is, is immediate. rounded shoulders ease and drop, posture straightens (and though previously only slightly out of line, the effect is dramatic). but the clearest thing, the most poignant shift in state, happens in the face. all those little tensions, the jerks and twinges of tiny little muscles caught up in a battle for control and clarity, fall. the tentative smile is gone. the raised brows, startled surprise is gone. in fact— in fact, everything's gone. suddenly, he is untraceable. there's not an inch of anything left in him - or perhaps, and more likely, there's plenty, but you can't see past the building's false face to know whether it's teeming or derelict.]
Hello, Sherlock. [the word sits bitter on his tongue even as he drinks in the man's little offerings, takes what he can from the glimpse he's spared. it's not a lot. the conversation, he trusts, will be worth more.] Pleased to see you aren't stupid.
[and now, now comes a smile, tweaking up at unnatural and entirely uncomfortable yet sleekly soft angles, small and slight and discordant and horribly at home in his face. it's light, gentle and absolutely, irrefutably (if it weren't for the death in his eyes) f o n d.]
video.
But the way they go about it is different, like they're a pair of blank slates waiting for the opportunity to imprint something upon themselves. He idly wonders if Jim is an artist. He imagines he'll find out in time.]
My intelligence was never in question. [It's a graceful, easy reply, considering that his conversations with his own Moriarty would become sharper. But this is an introduction. He is not taken with this man, nor will he ever be. This man will never be a weak spot, a point he's eternally grateful about.] My uniqueness on the other hand, that's different. I feared I was the only one who had that threatened upon arriving here.
[A white lie. He neither worried nor cared much about it. Sherlock sees himself as utterly different from the other Sherlock. He's completely comfortable (and even pleased) with the fact. To have his extraordinary status ripped away from him wasn't even a point of adjustment.]
video.
so, instead of dancing to a merry piper's tune (though he's got plenty to say on the matter, none of it informed and he'd really much rather wait and see), he gives that one little insight and dives off in another direction entirely:] Have you got a Watson?
[it's a big question. Watson, in his experience, is entirely synonymous with a catalyst for rot. are you withered, Sherlock? are you withering?]
video.
[Not at the moment, he doesn't, and that's the reason for the response.
(Plus, he wishes to protect her identity.)
He does have a Watson, but he keeps the fact that she exists in his life away from his features. Sherlock is careful not to give away any indications that he's lying. There are discrepancies, of course, just so it isn't a perfect imitation, but it is close enough.]
But I have met the Watson here. The one I believe you are familiar with.
video.
of course, there's margin for error. "the" isn't exactly an uncommon word.
still, in situations like this, it does so help to have a gut worth trusting.
his pokerface is just as adept, only it manifests in the opposite way - an active quirk to his smile, dismissive? hungry. ]
Oh? And what do you think?
[now this really is fascinating territory.]
video.
video.
video.
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video.
video.
video.
video. so sorry for the delay oh boy
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A small box containing a piece of chocolate will appear on your pillow during the day. When consumed, the chocolate’s magic will lift your mood for a short period of time. It’s accompanied by a note.]
Where love might bring about sorrow, it also welcomes joy.
backdated to Day 400
His box of chocolate will look, smell, and taste exactly like Freya's did, appearing right next to where Freya's was or is if you haven't picked it up yet. The only difference between the two is that Loki's won't lift your mood; it'll give you loud and embarrassing flatulence for the next three hours.
It's also accompanied by a note. ]
Where joy might bring about yearning, it also welcomes wonder.
text
Such a broad offer. Just when I started to feel special.
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Don't be too disappointed. You'll get mates rates.
[love u barty]
Re: text
It's alright, I'll watch.
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Naughty.
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Do you know Ellie? The girl.
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well, it's perfect really, isn't it?
there's a lot more he could say, and will in due time. for now, he's silent. d o carry on.]
private text
[It's hard to read people like Moriarty even under the best circumstances. Over text is very far away from the best.]
She's very avid in her arguing against me, as you might have noticed. Plus, she can take care of herself. Both traits that make her an attractive target to give to someone you're perhaps not that attached to just yet.
private text
["Tom" because Voldemort is literally the most repulsive name in this or any universe and he refuses to type it even once more and dirty his perfectly manicured fingers thanks did you follow a guy who called himself voldemort barty did you really
it's also likely not remotely a coincidence he's chosen to mention this are you keeping things from me how rude]
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[Darling, if there's something you want to know, you need but ask.
And maybe he'll say something.
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