I've Got You

Independent. Selective. Multiverse. Mun is 21+.

[gotycu-blog]

narrativecrime:

“Well aren’t you the confident fellow.” His own lips quirk into a warm smile. Then, quite suddenly, a through occurred. John cocked his head to the side, appraising Sherlock before he posed his question. “How do you think you’d fair against me at a shooting range?” The blogger may or may not be a tad smug about his question. They both knew that John was an excellent shot.

     “Always,” His shoulders roll in a lazy shrug, before John poses his next question. Sherlock allows himself a moment to mull that over, his finger sweeping thoughtfully back and forth across his upper lip, before he lets his hand fall away and cocks a brow. “I’d give you a run for your money, at the very least. Your cockiness would likely get the better of you.” 

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thewxman:

        Irene attempts not to seem too keen, like she hadn’t been waiting on him to speak those exact words for what now seems an absurd amount of time. So she pauses, as if to deliberate– to weigh up the pros and cons ( the aforementioned having already been done over countless nights with her head resting on his chest, hazily unpicking cases together until one or both fall asleep ). He sounds nonchalant, like it’s an afterthought, as if she’s the second choice, but at this point she knows him too well for that. 

       “I think I will.”

      Sherlock watches as she seems to weigh up his words, but he knows she’s been wanting this for a while. He may not be an expert on women, but he’s become rather adept at reading this one, and she hasn’t been entirely subtle in her hinting. Nonetheless, Sherlock’s been dwelling on the thought himself for some time, wondering whether or not she’d enjoy accompanying him on cases rather than simply working over them at home. 

     “Excellent. I’ll let Lestrade know to expect you next time.” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman

“Nice save.” Comes her response as she offers the phone back to him, the device sitting balanced between her forefinger and thumb. “Don’t worry, though. My lips are sealed. Just in case you were entertaining the idea.”

     “Thank you,” He hums, stretching out a hand so that he can take the phone back from her as his lips tilt up. “I have been entertaining the idea. John isn’t quite as available these days... I’m tired of talking to the skull,” He pauses, before he shrugs lazily. “Come to the next one.” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

      HE’S RIGHT, but giving him the satisfaction of knowing that fact is the last on her list of priorities, for fear of his ego inflating any more than it needs to be. “Absolutely beside the point.” Question well and truly swept under the carpet ( she believes ). “But fine. I can take you shooting the walls. Setting fire to the kitchen table, keeping SEVERED LIMBS in the bath— I mean, it’s a wonder John even brings Rosie here any more but I won’t let it bother me.” A sigh, then. Picking up the teacup that she had held down in the water and turning to face him, expression seemingly passive, yielding. “What IS life without a bit of chaos?” With that her grasp loosens, sending the china mug hurtling to the tiled floor, smashing on impact. An eyebrow pulls upwards. “Oops.”

      He won that part, at least. She has no comeback there, seems to resolve herself to the fact that he’s gotten her beat. She just doesn’t admit it out loud. His lips slant upwards for just a moment, before he hums despite the fact he knows she’s being sarcastic. “Excellent. I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement, there,” He feels triumphant for all of thirty seconds before she’s facing him, extending out her hand to PURPOSEFULLY drop the mug she’s holding. He blinks once, then twice, and then opens and closes his mouth with a crease of his brow. “I... Hm.” He tilts his head and leans forward in his seat, looking down at the mess on the floor. “.... Mrs Hudson won’t be best pleased with you. She gave me that mug.” He sniffs, settling back in his seat with a pointedly raised brow.

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

      Retrieving the phone, she types a quick message to the Detective Inspector to outline her findings, hitting send with a smug smirk before she looks back to Sherlock in his place beside her. “The next thing you know he’ll be asking me to come on cases with you.”

     “Oh, he does that already. More so because he thinks it would get under my skin. Probably wants to attempt to dig gossip about me from you,” He pauses, glancing in her direction when he realises it might sound as though he doesn’t value her input. progress. “Little does he know you’d simply wipe the floor with his entire team.”

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

      She’s looking down at the man’s bound wrists as Jim speaks, the red welts that have been left in the wake of his struggle against the restraints raw and inflamed. A smirk comes to her lips at his bargain, as if she needs any more motivation. “Oh that’s entirely fair.” She purrs in response, slowly lowering herself down behind the chair to trail fingertips along their victim’s forearm before she moves to the ropes, tightening them further and eliciting a stifled noise of agony. “My my, it sounds like he agrees, don’t you think?”

      Returning to her previous stance, her hands shift to rest heavy upon the man’s shoulders, his shirt damp with sweat as her thumbs begin to knead into rigid muscle. “Oh he’s so tense, James. I think we’ve frightened him.” She dips her head, lips pressing to his ear.

             “ Now where                              should                                       we                                            START? ”

      He knew that she wouldn’t have any objections to his little deal. It’s not as though she needed the extra incentive, but adding a little here and there doesn’t exactly hurt. “I certainly thought so,” he hums, his eyes following her as she circles around behind the man to tighten the ropes. She was going to enjoy this anyway, but the gleam in her eyes has sparked tenfold, and he can see the cogs whirring in her mind as she begins to work out what she wants to do to him.

      He watches her as her thumbs begin to knead the man’s tense muscles, can see him tense further at the contact, practically trembling in his seat. “Oh, really? But we’ve been so generous to him. So... welcoming.” He tuts lightly, casting the man a disapproving look before he replies to her likely rhetorical question.

     “I don’t much like the way he’s looking at me, darling. give him something else to focus on, hm?”

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

      “Bugger.” She mentally scolds herself for missing it, the idea seeming so obvious in retrospect— though it’s times like this that she’s reminded of the advice he’s given her so many times before. There will always something. “Do you want to text Lestrade or should I? He’ll begin to think I’m after your job.”

     “Indeed,” Slipping his fingers into his pocket, he withdraws his phone and offers it out to her with the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “Let him think what he will. I’m sure it’s just another reminder that he really is terrible at his job.” He jokes lightly, pressing the phone into her palm before he takes a seat beside her.

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

      She crosses the room as he speaks, settling herself in the chair opposite him, legs crossing elegantly as she does so. “Oh God, of course. How awfully silly of me. Forgive me, I almost forgot how FUN it is to be fucking shot at.” 

      Dark eyes follow the movement of her legs as they cross one over the other, before he looks up and locks eyes with her own. “Now, now... Don’t overreact.” He tilts his head, one dark brow inching upward. “I’ll stop... if you provide me with some other source of entertainment. Of equal value, of course.” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

     Childlike excitement lights up Irene’s expression as his gaze falls upon her, her own stare moving slowly to settle on the unfortunate soul that she had just been given free reign over. She watches him astutely as he begins to thrash against the restraints her own hands had tied, muffled yells of protest escaping from behind the gag pressed against his mouth. 

     “ OH SWEETHEART don’t be like that. People pay a lot of money for what you’re about to go through. You should be grateful. ” Standing from her chair, her expression contorts to that of a frown, an exaggerated pout forming on her lips. “ Admittedly they get to LIVE to tell the tale— but beggars can’t be choosers. ”

      It’s moments like THESE he’s reminded just why Irene Adler had deserved that second chance. She’s an artist, and Jim rather enjoys watching her work. Tongue sweeping his lower lip, he examines the cup of tea in his hands for a moment, idly sweeping away a stray droplet from the rim as Irene advances toward the man. 

     “When we’re done here,” He begins, as though the other man is not in the room, isn’t currently trembling with fear, and looks up at her retreating form. “We’re going to my townhouse,” He looks at the man, then, whose brows are pinched together as he looks toward Jim. “The more painful you make this for him... The more orgasms you get later tonight. Does that sound fair, my sweet?” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

       A retort pushes at her lips, a rather childish ‘do too’ threatening to escape— before she decides that maybe it’s SLIGHTLY too early for an argument about snoring. “Oh I was just in the area.” If the catchment of Marylebone includes Amsterdam, that is. “Thought I’d pay you a visit. I saw you on the news last night and decided that it had been far too long.”

      His eyes narrow a moment as she says she was ‘in the area’, his gaze flicking across her. “No you weren’t. How is Amsterdam this time of year?” He asks, adjusting the sheet around himself as he gets settled. “Ah. And what did you think of the case?” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

       Her brows furrow slightly as she gives the sorry sight another once over, a small, mock-pout forming on her lips. She leans forward in her chair, arm extending out to run her fingers along Jim’s forearm, a playful gleam in her stare. “Let me play with him.”

      Jim’s eyes remain fixed on the man before them as her fingers trace his forearm, nails gently scratching through the expensive fabric of his suit, before he eventually turns his head enough to look at her with an amused smirk. “Go play, my darling.” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

     Arguing happens to be something they do very, very well. It’s just another element of their game, another level of their inexplicable brand of flirting— taking a somewhat domestic act and putting their bizarre twist on it. A psychologist’s nightmare. Therefore, it’s not lost on her when he uses the word relationship. It still sounds out of place coming from him, like a foreign language falling from his lips. “If you call cleaning up after you NAGGING, then I’m afraid we have incredibly different definitions.” She continues to talk with her back to him, albeit with a slightly more passive aggressive tone. “If you wanted me to nag I’d tell you to stop stabbing the fucking mantelpiece.”

      Sherlock’s eyes dart up towards her when she continues washing up, his eyes narrowing, but honestly he’s not surprised by this all. She had threatened to tidy the place when she’d first moved in with him, despite his firm objections to the idea, he simply hadn’t expected that to mean she’d touch his scientific apparatus. “So it would seem,” Picking up a beaker to inspect it for a moment, he shoots her another look when she speaks again, even though she’s not looking. “-- That’s a useful mailing system and you know it. You always know where your letters are, do you not?” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

      “—because he’s not his brother at all. He’s his husband.” She looks up at him wide-eyed, expectant, like a child waiting for a pat on the back or a gold star for her efforts. “Have I missed anything?”

      The expression on her face makes his lips slant upwards briefly, his brows arching ever so slightly. “Nothing major. Only that they did believe themselves to be brothers, for a short time, and fell in love regardless.” 

[gotycu-blog]

thewxman:

“I would wholeheartedly appreciate it if you stopped trying to have me killed.” She stands at the threshold of his office, arms folded across herself. “It’s just getting a bit rude at this point.”

      Jim merely hums from behind his desk, lips pressed to the rim of his cup before he takes a slow sip of the hot tea. As he sets it down, he leans back in his chair and rakes his eyes over her slowly, until their eyes lock. “It was never intended to be rude, my darling. Just a bit of fun.” 

[gotycu-blog]

     “Oh, don’t pull that face. You should have better security if you don’t want guests, Johnny boy.”

@hatinghamish  ♥’d for Jim

[gotycu-blog]

watsonofagun:

One day, John will prove Sherlock wrong about that. For now, he checks the refrigerator, ignoring what appears to be some unsavoury body part, and glances behind at his friend now on the laptop.

          “Yeah, I suppose she means we’re out, judging from the state           of the fridge. Did you ever do shopping before I moved in?”

      Sherlock focuses on searching through his emails for a moment as he hears John opening up the fridge, looking for food, most likely. When he hears his friend speak once again, Sherlock answers without looking back, typing a reply to Lestrade as he does so.

     “Absolutely not, no. Food just sort of... appeared. Probably Mrs Hudson’s doing.” 

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