THE MEDDLER.

WORLD'S GREATEST DETECTIVE sherlock holmes

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obscurumss:

@arbitratore

[neige0413]

A Study in Scarlet.

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sherlock holmes is 65% adorable. A uncommon amount of cuteness.

“ hm, perhaps that is just the right amount of cuteness after all. “

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i do believe it was an accident -- no, it had to have been a mistake! there’s no way he’d truly stand against the wind smoking his pipe on a chilly december morning? boxing day had since passed and it was time for another brisk post-christmas stroll, but naturally he’d stopped to observe the ducks paddling about the cold water of the pond, sector six’s true focal point in his eye. ah, but the matter at hand doesn’t concern the splashing of ducks, but rather how the silvery clouds of thick pipe smoke travelled directly into the face of another, the smog reminiscent of an era he knew only too well, london’s pollution seemingly having travelled with him on this rare occasion! still, it was rather rude of my old friend to engage in such reckless behaviour --- ah, i suppose he was lost in thought once more, wasn’t he? so typical of that holmes... 

puff puff.

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“ how intriguing to be back once again --- ah, it’s as if i never truly left. perhaps the mystery is not how one disappears & then reappears once again, but rather why. i do suppose it’s a matter for another time... “

[filthyfateconfessions]

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SHERLOCK HOLMES \ RULER 

( fate / grand order )

world famous detective, focal character of arthur conan doyle’s work as well as many other adaptations, retellings and such.

was he real? was he merely fiction? was he based on one person, or many? who knows…. sherlock does. no spoilers though, he’s very particular about people not knowing that part.

his powers of deduction & reason have marked him as both a legendary solver of the world’s most complex crimes, but also an enemy to many a plotting criminal. whilst his manner isn’t always friendly, he is on the side of good at least. something you should be grateful for.

given the role of RULER, much to the dismay of many, due to his strong passion for justice. whilst he is not a saint ( and lord knows, he could never be ) he expresses a want for the truth so grand it cannot be ignored, and so great it pars easily with that of a typical servant of the class. 

*magnifying glass emoji* 

sometimes he’s good at pulling off a disguise. the sometimes is key. 

always smoking. always thinking. always planning. 

there’s like 500 things i could write here but you’ll just have to thread with me to find it all out ;) i am still writing my typical plot “ wishlist “ but it will be accessible on my blog in the very near future. for now, if you’d like to thread please feel free to message me through ims or ask box! 

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rogabitque:

Music was a gateway to nostalgia–one that Bedivere did not indulge in all too often; there was something vaguely frightening about feeling the emotion build in his chest, heavy and accusing, as his mind took him to places he did not want to remember. There were times, however, that he desired the thick feeling of melancholy and sought after it.

Of course, feeling swallowed by the endless depression that followed remembering his countless mistakes was not something he was particularly good at. He was far better at moving on, at looking for solutions, at /fighting/, and that was how he found himself staring at some great, mythic beast of a wolf pacing its way beyond the windows. He worked his jaw, hands coming up to clasp behind his back as he considered the thing. He thought: if Arthur had still been alive, if Camelot had still been in it’s golden age, this would’ve been the type of beast a knight would’ve been sent out to fight to prove himself, to earn his heraldry, holding only maiden shield and arms. It would’ve been a great quest and there would’ve been a celebration afterwards, feasting, a new shield presented to the newly-proven knight.

But here… here it was just another beast, another fight, another slog through what seemed like endless days in a fool’s paradise. His stomach clenched as he wondered–would this be like the last torturous “event”, where the townspeople turned on them? And he so far from his Master, unable to reach out and help the boy who could not help himself.

And then a familiar voice, to break him from the winding circle of self doubt he struggled through. It took him a moment to place it, and he assisted his memory by turning his head slightly and making eye contact with the speaker.

“Mister Holmes,” Bedivere greeted upon recognition, tipping his head and shoulders in what could just barely be recognized as a bow. “I can’t say for certain that my voice is able to reach such an octave–I could certainly try if you’re interested, but I fear that our canine friend here is not terribly fond of music.” There was the barest hint of a wry smile at his lips for just a second, before he went back to clenching his teeth. “Why is it that, Mister Holmes, that you always seem to show up in the oddest of circumstances?”

whilst the chaos of confusion might have plagued the general populace, there was a degree of calculated calm to present itself upon the detective’s face, for it was not the work of mere wild hounds and growling wolves which roused him into some fear-filled state. in fact, out of the groups of people gathering around in clusters not too dissimilar to that of panicked hens, it was likely that he was one of the few who did not seem to care at all to presence of something so terrible lurking beyond the doors. well, it was a risk one took, was it not? it was described almost weekly by the news outlets of their city, that come nightfall the streets were no longer meant for he or his companions but for beasts to stretch their paws and mark their territories with blood. 

“ a good point, ser. “ perhaps even the noise and din of the frightened folks was enough to poke and prod the beast into rage. one could not determine the feelings of an animal, anyhow. “ is that how you view it then? “ he turned to answer the posed question with one of his very own. “ or rather is it merely coincidental that odd circumstances merely present themselves in my presence? “ he didn’t suppose it was his being there which inspired such oddities, alas the knight before him seemed skeptical enough. knights often must be, he imagines. their duties and their intrigues are what kept their kingdoms strong, that service to their lord, to the goodness was all quite typical of a stereotypical knighthood, was it not? 

“ perhaps a situation of this sensitivity requires the noble blade of a knight. isn’t this quite the valor one expects from a hero such as you? “ he smiles, his version of a greedy laugh at his own humor. “ forgive me, it is far too easy to pigeonhole a knight when there are but a cluster of distressed damsels about. now then, shall we see to this beast together or would you rather pussyfoot here? “ 

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nocturnirea:

THE PAIR OF SANGUINES SEARCHED THEIR LIKES in hues, shifted to the small stains he had been pointed out as soon as he moved his foot to get a better view of it himself. The mustache of the bloody noble accented the otherwise subtle frown, the tool the stranger produced was a cause for annoyance. A lens to magnify was for that which went small and unnoticed, used on him, the greatest king of monsters? ( That carried a subtle insult in tow of this forward approach. ) 

The drive of curiosity resonated within him enough to overlook it, as did the entertainment he derived from this odd fellow’s behavior. That was hunger for knowledge in its purest form; his frown turned back into a smile. It might be worth it.  

      “…I SEE. TAKE A LOOK THEN AND ENJOY YOUR STORY.”

Was that not it? The question had to be begging for a game of deduction if he hadn’t misinterpreted. Not to share but to let him read the story right there from as little and insignificant as smears of red. Perhaps there was more he hadn’t been aware of, not that the clues to last crime committed concerned him. No more than the titling of such deeds as crimes itself, for they were the concerns of mere mortals. With brows in arcs and body still, he watched and waited.

no respect is spared in light of the finely dressed man before him, no ounce of regret for peering at him so intensely as one may study the contents beneath a microscope within a laboratory. instead it was with keen eyes that holmes noted not only the darker stain upon the shoe, but also how grand the entirety of the man’s demeanour seemed to be, so crafted elegantly he may have assumed that he stood before a wealthy lord, even within a city likely so far from his home. now there was an achievement of sorts; the finer folk who dressed so well within hive city were certainly a cause for curiosity -- how one could make their living or resume their wealth so easily was a great and bold victory, one which only intelligent or foolish men made. there was quite a line to divide them. 

no dirt, no grease upon his noble cloth, he was not a man of hard labour. learned, like himself, was the impression bestowed upon him, with how he spoke, how he held himself. grand, as if the world was but a ladder and he perched upon the highest rung. “ there is hardly much of a story here, sir. a sad section of a sad city. “ he adds, flicking his vision and inspection from the shoes to a series of cracks within the pavements. odd, jarring scenes of foul play, most likely. it did not explain the dried crimson which painted the patches of the stranger’s shoe, but it certainly explained the eerie feeling he had in the walkways presence. magical, almost. he pocketed the magnifying lens and straightened up. “ but if you refer to yourself, then i suppose i must indulge. “ he resumed the smoking of his pipe. he had gone far too many minutes without exhaling an arrogant cloud of silver. “ a wealthy man, by his lonesome, dried blood upon his heel and not a thread loose from his shirts. kept hair, learned tongue. an aristocrat, smart enough to keep his wealth despite being so very far from home, in a land so unlike that which suits you. guarded; defensive, hiding perhaps more secrets than i could ever guess. “ another exhale of smoke.

“ you rarely walk, judging by the preserved leather of your shoes, but it is unlikely due to an intolerance of dirt and filthy, like most noble men may possess. this seems an odd place for a typical rich man, does it not? alas, you are anything but typical. for one thing, you haven’t once interrupted me. i find that a rather irritating yet common trait in the bourgeoisie. “

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frick ur christmas yall, BONFIRE NIGHT IS FIRST

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nocturnirea:

@arbitratore | Sherlock Holmes vs Dracula is real

          “WHAT IS IT THAT YOU ARE SEARCHING FOR?”

THE WORLD WAS TAKEN APART, as was he. In a mind, that was. He’d noticed the strafing glances, never wavering but focused and directed like a hunter’s. The question reached into the abstract, past what the physical world withheld, posed in a monotone constant without dip or rise ( demanding like a devil seated upon the shoulder. ) 

That young man in his coat, he should blend into the background of the picture and stay in the oblivion of the dark lord’s life but the absurd amount of magic from his being made him clearly someone more important than a no one. The vampiric red eyes waited at the rim of his vision for something, perhaps not even an answer.

to blend, to conform, now these were as abstract theories as those which plagued the minds of fantastical authors, the dreamers who sought after idealistic properties in worlds unlike the very reality they basked within. for it was with great excellence that sherlock holmes did not simply merge with that of the background, as much as his coat may have matched so finely the shade of london smog he had never once been at one with the backdrop of his hometown. indeed, even there beside a stranger who reeked so acutely of death ( do not mistake this for blood or the musky scent of decomposition, i may add, for death itself has a scent only those attuned to such a terrible occurrence may comprehend ) holmes stuck out for one reason or another.

“ i can hardly dissuade my curiosity-- “ he began, smoke curling from the pipe as he spoke, “--for your interest in the matter. a gentleman so alone and so incredibly cautious, it would seem apparent that you have a story to tell, sir. “ a story to tell, perhaps one laced with guilt. who else would demand such from a mere humble investigator? holmes produced a magnifying glass and brought it to his vision, flecks of crimson upon the stranger’s heel a welcome sight to one so keen minded, but perhaps not so welcome to all else, he supposed.

“ what a shame, and those do look to be of some fine leather. your shoes --- perhaps it is merely evidence which burdens you, sir. may i take a closer look? “

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ceremonialpurge:

( @arbitratore​​ )

    The door of the small office sweeps open with a certain grace. Slow, purposeful, the finely dressed man that enters not only evokes austere perseverance with his expression but his presence fills the room at the touch of his pipe to his lip. Amazing! Truly!  A different righteous, but one he could admire nonetheless. Among the halls of Chaldea, he never experienced the man at work.

    If the famous Sherlock Holmes is as good as his Legend, deducing the identity of his waiting guest should be child’s play. The Lancer, dressed simply and without armor,rises from one of the chairs. 

     “ Holmes!  Good too see you again, my friend. I do not intend to take up much of your time. I heard your name among the whispers of the streets, I had to see if rumor were true! ”

     A hand outstretched, eyes shine with a welcoming smile, a grin to match.

it should take no nimble deduction to note that whilst the place was indeed riddled with crime and affiliated tomfoolery, there was a buzz of sorts which plagued the streets anyhow, a sort of warning which hummed and whistled within the eves most might have considered committing some element of crime to be merely natural. of course, it isn’t often that a simple person from the general populace would take note to such things, as holmes often discovered when he received questions on ‘ how on earth is this still happening ‘ or even ‘ what are you going to do about this? ‘ alas, the life of the ruler rests only when he decides it to be so, and with the increasing hours of his work ( and the fleeting fancies of his master’s assistance! ) sherlock holmes was rather busy with it all.

“ hello, again! “ he speaks with some element of intrigue paired well with his genuine softer delight. it is in fact always quite pleasant to meet with those you already know, if not for the fact he was spared of awkward first time introductions, but also due to the kinship there was to be had in their time at chaldea. he takes the hand which is offered and returns a firm shake. indeed, the man before him was certainly always a curious sort, that tainted old soul. there was to be no animosity nor even concern within his voice, for his elation was a breed of calm and collected sorts, with him taking his armchair and tapping a spot of ash into a nearby tray.

“ certainly, there is in fact no falseness in the gossip this time, on both accounts as well i am glad to see. “ with such a vast city before them both, it was any wonder that one may question the legitimacy of one’s arrival or absence, since it seemed like almost anything was possible within the city’s arena. an interesting thought, one which he privately and almost obsessively thought upon when the hour was late and the company was nil.  

“ a ghastly and yet so intriguing place, this is. there is so much to learn that i am almost unsure as to where to begin.” a breath of smoke accompanies his words as he leans back within the chair once again. “ i needn’t point out how accustomed to your new home you are; i shall spare you that much, my friend. “

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kees

kissu o3o

[neige0413]

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

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crimedynamics:

Dunking his tone into the bottom of a bucket of irony, the Professor began with-

             “MY DEAR SHERLOCK. COULD IT BE YOU REQUIRE A BASIC MATH CLASS BY YOURS TRULY?”

Adjusting his glasses, he smiled pleasantly to conceal the acid eating through his stomach. The obnoxious situation sufficed completely to build up bile in him but there was something nostalgic in having the flames stoked unnecessarily by this rascal. It sweetened the desire for revenge.

            “HOW THE VARIABLES INTERACT DOESN’T MATTER. WHAT THEY REPRESENT DOESN’T MATTER. AS LONG AS THE RESULT IS KNOWN, PIECES CAN BE MOVED AND EXCHANGED TO FIT THE DESIRED OUTCOME. ARE YOU TAKING NOTES? IT’S A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME SPECIAL SESSION JUST FOR YOU.”

Their minds ran on the same wavelength, welcoming and opposing the idea of the unknown. To the mastermind the only threat was an unknown variable, the role often played by the man smoking his pipe so casually next to him. With a scrunch of his nose he allowed himself to make the dismay about the smoke known. 

          “POT. KETTLE. IT’S AS INEVITABLE AS YOUR PUTTING YOUR NOSE EVERYWHERE, YOU BUSY-BODY. BUT YOU’RE MISSING YOUR PERMIT TO BE A NUISANCE, AREN’T YOU? THE POLICE HEADQUARTERS ARE IN SECTOR 3. ”

Like it would matter in his calculations at which point of time the meddler started his meddling now that he was here. The oddity surrounding them did well in hiding where his web began, crimes that had nothing to do with him should aid him against this man who wouldn’t turn down any chance to help fight them. At the same time, while they were once again playing against each other, the city itself was the great mystery in the way of both.

mere comedy, truly, that he should spur him in the direction of his pen; a lost pup in need of a gentle push towards his kennels. ah, but layer upon layer of intrigue sat within such an idea, that his meddling should be so catered for by one so apparently downtrodden by his poking and prodding. or was it that he sought it out so feverishly as to earn himself a challenge? if holmes had supposed that this was all he was, some object with which to pass time, he might have believed just that. alas, another puff of smoke to salt the wound and weak lungs all quite purposely, before he tipped away the ash and stroked his chin with his free hand, pipe settling between his lips. 

blue uniforms were not his commanders, neither his handlers nor his employers, it should be said. he aided them when he felt most like doing so, offered them answers to questions they were too dull to unravel themselves. he was bold enough to think it and had hardly shied from saying it aloud, how incompetent scotland yard may be when faced with something out of sorts. but then this place, this strange version of a reality he did not yet understand, perhaps played home to a better sort, a smarter kind. he doubted it, much like how he doubted the napoleon of crime should ever care about his affiliations to the law enforcement of wherever they stood. 

“ a personal escort, my my. “ he notes aloud, humming the teasing tone whilst looking towards the street in question. “ i doubt you need the assurance that it’s hardly police consent which warrants my inquisitive nature. indeed i feel as though i am already so wrapped up in concern that i should barely require their aid. “ arrogance suited him, in some regard, for it was charisma sour yet strong which reaffirmed that notion, that belief that he should unravel the impossible and make simple terms of it all, expose the darkness for a mere cloak-covered lamp. he smiled, perhaps somewhat entertained by it all, though the smile was of no friendly sort to his companion there, even less was it an obvious breed of amusement. 

“ you needn’t hold my hand the entire way, in fact i plead you do not. merely conversing here is well beyond anything i can remotely consider pleasant. “ he spoke so frankly, alas if it was rose-tinted disgust one sought, they had fallen at the feet of the wrong man to begin with. “ unless, of course, you had some desire to stalk me so plainly? “

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just sent my little message into citta to have my hiatus removed because i’m back and feeling ready to party! old threads will continue on ( unless someone doesn’t wish to do so! ) and also before he was on hiatus, i belieeeeve i got my cellphone and new rank so that’s exciting! now sherlock holmes can be reached via telephone ( if he remembers to bring it, he hates being bothered sometimes! ) as always, if anyone wishes to write with me, my inbox and ims are always open! have a good weekend everyone !!

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cardshot:

          “ No way, Lupin was so much better- sure Holmes is iconic, I guess, but nothing’s better than a likeable antagonist especially since it took years before there was a foil character actually introduced to put him in line. ”     — His ramblings continue for some time, but with his habit of repeating the things he deems important, there isn’t much that anyone in the general vicinity hasn’t heard already. 

   Conversations like these have happened long before, but Aoko never truly clung to his supporting evidence and certainly not the police whom he’d had too many encounters with: at least in the city, there were some willing to debate.      // @arbitratore  ❤‘d for a starter !!

“ is there truly something so admirable in being related at all to an ‘ antagonist ‘? “ but then, he could hardly admit that the lack of such a role within his own life would have been anything short of dull. was that a selfish thing to seek, his own foil? in the napoleon of crime he had certainly found a puzzle capable of straining his mind to its limits, alas there was no true joy to be had in facing someone so terrible.

 “ forgive me, i merely could not help but overhear your rather biased personal opinion on two figures who are so vastly unalike. “