(no subject)

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[playing the violin at odd hours]

Comments

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

[Muffled, from another room, and full of the desperate exhaustion of someone who knows they will not win this particular 3am flatmate confrontation.] Holmes, d'you know what time it is?

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[Cooly, naturally, lifting her bow. She is a little muffed her piece has been interrupted.] Of course I know what time it is. Aren't you usually awake writing that blog of yours?

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

[Would it strengthen or weaken her moral high ground, she wonders, to get out of bed rather than shouting this conversation down the stairwell?

. . . well, regardless, up she gets, reaching for her dressing gown.] My laptop's on the desk.

[A polite way of saying Usually or not, right now I am not writing the blog, thank you for noticing, oh professional noticer-of-things.]

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[She lifts the bow once more and continues playing, lifting a brow when Watson emerges from her bedroom.]

Oh, good, you're awake. I've got some research that needs to be done. There's been a shootout down the street, but I hardly think it has anything to do with the local hooligans.

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

. . . you can't be serious. [Of course she's serious, she's Holmes. And Watson is already steering herself kettle-wards, because like hell is she doing this without a bracing jolt of hot caffeine in her system.]

What makes you think it's worth investigating?

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[Holmes points her violin at her roommate.] Haven't you been keeping up with the international conflict regarding certain delegates come to visit from the Philippines? Certainly, you could chalk that up to another street gang conflict, but I highly doubt any of those hooligans would carry a gun like the one I've just heard. No, that sound was oddly specific.

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

[Dear Kettle: please boil faster, she needs tea to deal with this.] Why would someone try to assassinate a Filipino ambassador at 3am in the middle of Baker Street of all places?

. . . unless you think one of them was on their way here?

Have some Femme Wholock! Cheers!

[pissed-idiot.livejournal.com]

[]

Oh, marvelous!

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[Holmes lifts her chin at the ring. She had heard footsteps outside and had already peeked out the window to see who had been wandering about the streets at the hour. She slips on her blue dress robe and walks downstairs, slowly, considering the silhouette. Finally, Holmes opens the door, her eyebrows raised.] Yes?

[pissed-idiot.livejournal.com]

Good evening, ma'am. I'm an inspector with the DECC [] I've been receiving some complaints about gas leaks and buildups in this area and I will need to be admitted into your basement. It should only take a couple of minutes.

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

Complaints, have you? [She peers at the paper up at the Doctor, then back to the paper once more.] From the DECC, I see.

Is there any reason why it says you're a security guard at -- Funland?

[pissed-idiot.livejournal.com]

Does it? My apologies. Wrong identification. [] There now. I work at Funland on the weekends. Supporting a couple of kids.

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[She narrows her eyes, speaking slowly as if she had misunderstood her.]

Are you aware that you've just pulled out the same paper?

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

[Muffled, from another room, and full of the desperate exhaustion of someone who knows they will not win this particular 3am flatmate confrontation.] Holmes, d'you know what time it is?

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[Cooly, naturally, lifting her bow. She is a little muffed her piece has been interrupted.] Of course I know what time it is. Aren't you usually awake writing that blog of yours?

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

[Would it strengthen or weaken her moral high ground, she wonders, to get out of bed rather than shouting this conversation down the stairwell?

. . . well, regardless, up she gets, reaching for her dressing gown.] My laptop's on the desk.

[A polite way of saying Usually or not, right now I am not writing the blog, thank you for noticing, oh professional noticer-of-things.]

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[She lifts the bow once more and continues playing, lifting a brow when Watson emerges from her bedroom.]

Oh, good, you're awake. I've got some research that needs to be done. There's been a shootout down the street, but I hardly think it has anything to do with the local hooligans.

[aconductor.livejournal.com]

. . . you can't be serious. [Of course she's serious, she's Holmes. And Watson is already steering herself kettle-wards, because like hell is she doing this without a bracing jolt of hot caffeine in her system.]

What makes you think it's worth investigating?

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[Holmes points her violin at her roommate.] Haven't you been keeping up with the international conflict regarding certain delegates come to visit from the Philippines? Certainly, you could chalk that up to another street gang conflict, but I highly doubt any of those hooligans would carry a gun like the one I've just heard. No, that sound was oddly specific.

Have some Femme Wholock! Cheers!

[pissed-idiot.livejournal.com]

[]

Oh, marvelous!

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[Holmes lifts her chin at the ring. She had heard footsteps outside and had already peeked out the window to see who had been wandering about the streets at the hour. She slips on her blue dress robe and walks downstairs, slowly, considering the silhouette. Finally, Holmes opens the door, her eyebrows raised.] Yes?

[pissed-idiot.livejournal.com]

Good evening, ma'am. I'm an inspector with the DECC [] I've been receiving some complaints about gas leaks and buildups in this area and I will need to be admitted into your basement. It should only take a couple of minutes.

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

Complaints, have you? [She peers at the paper up at the Doctor, then back to the paper once more.] From the DECC, I see.

Is there any reason why it says you're a security guard at -- Funland?

[pissed-idiot.livejournal.com]

Does it? My apologies. Wrong identification. [] There now. I work at Funland on the weekends. Supporting a couple of kids.

[onbakerst.livejournal.com]

[She narrows her eyes, speaking slowly as if she had misunderstood her.]

Are you aware that you've just pulled out the same paper?