The Wisest and Bravest Man I know

Liz, 19. This side blog is my blog for storing role plays. If you're interested in roleplaying with me, read the tab below for info!

[liz-roleplays]

Just a little warmth.

You: Hope you aren't busy, kid. John got a rejection letter from a uni. Haven't seen him since. HW (22)

Stranger: I'm not a kid. Where do you think he's gone? SH [18]

You: I've checked the gym, Mike's, Mary's, Greg's, and the gym. I've also checked the track and surprise. No John. HW

Stranger: I'm guessing he was terribly hoping to get in. He's not at mine, thanks for checking. SH

You: Shit. Right. HW

You: [Delay] He's tried to explain to me what you do. HW

Stranger: What do you mean, what I do? SH

You: You know. Figure out mysteries. Find people. That sort of shit. HW

Stranger: Deduce. Yes, I've been doing it since I was very young. I'm very good at it. You're asking me to do the same here, I guess. SH

You: I don't care if he doesn't come home tonight. He needs the space, obviously. But I do want him safe. HW

Stranger: You think he'll do something stupid? SH

You: No. Maybe. I don't know. HW

You: He hasn't answered my phone calls or texts. HW

Stranger: He's not you, first of all. But...I'll text him. SH

You: Yeah, gotta get that quick shot in. Ooh, I'm so hurt. Really, I don't know whatever I shall do. HW

You: Thanks, kid. HW

Stranger: Not a kid. And I am helping your little brother out, who happens to be my best friend. SH I think. I mean, I haven't asked him if he is that. To me. But...I assume that's what he would say. He's sentimental. SH

You: You seriously don't know if he considers you his best friend or not? HW

Stranger: I've been told that I can't really tell those things. SH

You: Yeah, I guess so. To be honest, I'm surprised that he isn't over at yours. HW

Stranger: I wish he was. SH

You: Yeah. I do too. HW

You: Find him, alright? Find him and you can ask if you're his best friend or however you want to phrase it. Just let me know that he's indoors for the night. HW

Stranger: Very well. SH [To: JW] John. SH

You: That's my name. JW

Stranger: I'm aware that you're upset. SH

You: Fine, Sherlock. JW

Stranger: Where are you? SH

You: Around. JW

Stranger: John, there is only one person allowed to be difficult in a friendship. SH

You: Yeah well it's my turn then. JW

You: I'm fine. Harry's just an idiot. Don't worry. JW

Stranger: John, do you think I'm intelligent? SH

You: [Delay] Yeah, Sherlock. I do. JW

Stranger: Excellent. And do you believe most things I say? SH

You: Most things, sure. JW

Stranger: Good. Would you believe me if I told you that everything will certainly be alright, and that I still think you're the most incredible human being in England? SH

You: [Few minute delay] You've never looked in a mirror, then? JW

Stranger: How kind. But I'm not incredible. SH

You: You're kidding. You're actually pulling my leg right now. JW

You: Jesus, Sherlock, you... you're amazing. You can see bloody everything and you're just you, and... if I'm even a bit above average, then you're absolutely the singular most ... fantastic person, that I could ever possibly meet. JW

Stranger: And I say you're the most fantastic person that I could ever possibly meet. We're at an impasse. SH

You: You're delusional, but I suppose. JW

Stranger: Good. Come to mine. SH

You: [Slight delay] I'm a bit wet. JW

Stranger: Obviously. It's raining. SH

You: Right. JW

You: I had a row with a tree. JW

Stranger: Are you drunk? SH

You: Unfortunately, no. JW

Stranger: Then why did you have a row with a tree? SH

You: It was looking at me the wrong way. JW

You: And it was the only thing I could punch without too much trouble. JW

Stranger: Wonderful. You're mad. Come home, I'll put out a pair of my larger clothing, and you can spend the night. SH

You: Mycroft? JW

Stranger: Won't mind. He'll assume we're sleeping together. SH

You: He certainly isn't the first. JW

You: On my way. JW

Stranger: Good. You'll be fine, John. It's not the end of the world. SH

You: The last text made his stomach uneasy. /Tell that to my father/, he wanted to say, but he simply put his phone away, bloody and shredded knuckles painfully brushing against the wet denim. Leaving the park, John turned onto the main road in their town, heading towards Sherlock's house. A tremor went up his spine, the dampness of his clothing making him shiver. Numerous other people had messaged him, attempting to ask John if he had made it in as well. Their texts were left unopened, and he prepared to delete them when he was able to. Turning into Sherlock's road, John began to walk a bit faster, nose running from the cold. Even if he had planned on knocking at the door, it would have been a bit challenging. Only his right hand was in somewhat decent shape, a few splinters and scrapes. However he simply walked in, knowing that the Holmes' saw enough of him to simply ignore him as he walked through the door.

Stranger: Mycroft was in bed, regardless. It was late. Sherlock had been up, fiddling about with the few experiments and cases and books he'd been reading. Then this bombshell had hit. Sherlock didn't particularly care about the Uni denying John. John's grades were average to a bit above, and there was very little to set him apart on paper. What he did care for was John. How John was feeling. If John would be alright. He had been standing at the top of the stairs when John came in, and made his way down. Without speaking, he just pushed the clothing into John's hand and looked over his left. "Sit down on the sofa. I'm going to take care of that. Sit down and we'll discuss this. There's tea on the stovetop. Mummy and Da are out of town, only Mycroft's here."

You: There was comfort was Sherlock took over, leading John around his house. Absentmindedly, he walked over to the sofa and set the warm, dry clothing into his hands. "Thank you," he murmured, sure to make eye contact before shrugging off his soaked jacket. Drained. He was just absolutely drained from the previous months, all building up to this day. Shirt traded for Sherlock's larger one -- still hugged his body a bit more tightly than he would otherwise like -- he kicked off his muddy shoes and removed his jeans before replacing them with the borrowed one. Clothed in warmer clothes, he sat on the sofa as Sherlock gathered the first aid kit. When he returned, he held out his left hand. "Thought I was the one who was going to med school."

Stranger: "Ah, yes, but you don't burn yourself with chemicals on a near-daily basis," Sherlock told him with a smile and inspected John's hand. Gingerly, he pried most of the splinters out that he could before applying the disinfectant. His other hand found John's wrist and held it to keep him steady - in truth, it was more to keep John still, although he tried to see it as an affectionate gesture as well. Then came the bandages, Sherlock slowly wrapping them around and around John's hand in order to staunch the bleeding. "Would you like me to do your other, too?" He asked politely, now kneeling on his knees in front of John as he sat on the sofa. "It's bleeding, just a little."

You: Watching Sherlock work was always something to be witnessed. The concentration on his face was softened by something. Concern, care for John's well being, he wasn't sure. It managed to warm his chest, ever so slightly, erasing the cold that the rain had settled well throughout his body. Sherlock's hold on his wrist kept the pain at bay while the disinfectant stung. Eyes lowered, he kept his gaze on Sherlock's pale, slender hand, noting that while their contact wasn't infrequent, it certainly meant a bit more to John tonight. He scoffed a bit, a smile nearly meeting his eyes. "Since when do you ask?" he responded, handing the out the right hand.

Stranger: Sherlock did the same with his other hand - gingerly fishing out the larger splinters and disinfecting the cuts, before placing small bandages on them to prevent infection. He had a few similar bandages all over his hands, due to chemical burns and the like. When he was done, he just sighed and moved to sit by the boy on the sofa. The clothes were a little snug on John, but sneaking into Mycroft's room for more clothing was not an option - and, besides, he wasn't altogether certain that Mycroft had anything besides suits. He leaned against John's shoulder, taking a deep breath. "Not as heartless as you, or other people, may think. Everything will be fine, John."

You: He swallowed hard, guilt pooling in his stomach at the first comment. Adjusting ever so slightly to move slightly closer to his best friend, John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he closed his eyes. "My dad wanted Oxford. Nothing less. If he sees the rejection letter, then..." Stopping himself, John exhaled sharply before sitting back up, a finger running over the bandages on the other's hand. "If I even manage to make it into London University, I'll get away. Just not until the summer's over." If. If he got in. London had been a safety school, one that he applied to in order to make his guidance counselor happy. And now it was all he had.

Stranger: Was it appropriate to lay his arm over John's shoulders? Sherlock wasn't certain. Still, he raised it and let it fall casually along the man's torso, trying to make it seem as if he just needed a place to put his arm. "You only have to get through this until summer's over," he reassured him lightly. "You'll get into London University, John, your grades are adequate enough. And damn Oxford. I'd much rather have you nearer to me than anything else." Pausing, Sherlock found a light knot in between John's shoulderblades and rubbed at it thoughtfully. "You can stay here until you feel better. Or you can tell your father over the phone, or...I'm certain Harry will tell him, eventually."

You: He closed his eyes once more and sighed as Sherlock began to massage between his shoulders, his hand still laying on the other's. A light smile found his lips as Sherlock spoke, and he let his head hang forward every so slightly so the other could more easily continue his administrations. "Harry needs to get her nose out of my bloody business," he responded, the bite in his words lost as energy seeped from him. "If she tells him, fine. All the more fine. She can deal with his drunk arse until I can't avoid going home any longer." People talked, about John and Sherlock. They often mentioned how close they were, how intimate their friendship seemed to be. What John didn't understand, however, was they had never seen this side to Sherlock, or rather, seen how they would curl up together when no one else was around. Occasionally, he wondered what it meant, that nearly everyone would comment on this until the day he decided to simply stop caring. What was between them, platonic or not, was purely their own, and he wouldn't trade anything for it. "Being close to you will definitely be a positive."

Stranger: "Mm," Sherlock agreed with what John had said, allowing John to put his head on his shoulder. They did this, sometimes. He wasn't sure if that was what friends did or not. Having a friend was such a damn wonder to him that he couldn't think of anything more strange. John didn't seem to mind his lack of experience, though. Romance was an entirely other battlefield that he hadn't wanted to try, but John encouraged him every now and then to try and find someone he was attracted to. He found himself thinking of romance more and more often when he was with John, but he didn't exactly know whyNot really, anyway. "You can stay here for as long as you want. The entire summer. We have extra beds," he reminded him, rubbing his shoulder. "You're eighteen. You can move out, and move in here for a little while. You know Mycroft won't mind, and my parents are ecstatic that I've even made a friend. Consider it?"

You: John nodded, tension slowly easing out of him. He had been too full of anger, of frustration, earlier. It was overwhelming and he couldn't get it out of his head. There was nothing, though, to eliminate that completely. He ran. He ran until he couldn't breathe and he was still furious, still seeing red, hands curled into tight fists, knuckles white and nails biting into his skin. And then he came upon the tree. The tree which was just angled the wrong way, and so John punched it. Again. And again. Over and over until he had managed to defuse enough of that anger, leaving him with bloody fists. This was nothing like it. He could feel the once powerful emotions slowly dwindle as Sherlock continued to rub his back. "I might. Move in for a bit. Things were tough enough as it was. We'll graduate, I'll get some sort of job this summer, save up for an apartment."

Stranger: "Good. I'll be working, as well." Sherlock cleared his throat. It was definitely not the best time to remind John that he would be preparing for college, in case the off chance that John didn't get in to his. Still. "Er, small little detective business I have. Helped a technological professional find his cat, he agreed to make me a website. It'll be nice." His head tilted to the side, letting it fall on top of John's wiry hair. If he could just lay forever like this, he was certain he would be pleased. Leaning over, he let his lips press against the top of John's hair. He smelled of rain, and shampoo, and a little bit of understandable sweat. It was nice. "And I could move in with you, too, if you needed someone to share it with you. We'll be going to college in the same area, likely."

You: The added pressure of Sherlock's head was comforting. It kept him centered, still, balanced. "Jesus Christ Sherlock," he breathed, eyes opening just slightly so he could watch the pale hand as his own stroked it gently, along each finger and then back. "You've just barely turned eighteen and yet here you are, with your own goddamn business already." There was wonder in his voice, rather than bitterness as anyone else may have received. It was beginning to rain again, soft pattering echoing throughout the house. "Wouldn't that be a perfect scenario?" he offered, grinning as he continued to play with Sherlock's fingers. "Just you and me, in London. No parents or siblings to please. Just us."

Stranger: " ' Business ' is a little bit of a strong word," Sherlock admitted softly, moving his hand from the middle of John's back to the back of his neck. "I don't always take payment, which isn't the best, but...well, if I'm going to be moving out, I'll have to start. Which is fine, by the way," he reassured him, and smiled. "Frankly, for some of the stress that some cases contain, I enjoy a bit of payment at the end of it." The thought of living in an apartment with him was absolutely fantastic, as well. Just John. Just his best friend. "It'd be wonderful, I think. I'm' quite excited for it, if you're willing to do so. Just you and I, together."

You: "I don't see how I wouldn't be more than willing, Sherlock." A smile still on his lips, he turned his face towards Sherlock, nose brushing against his neck. Spice, like unlit tobacco. The sharpness of chemicals, though John was sure it was simply on Sherlock's shirt. And something undeniably Sherlock. Something John couldn't get enough of. He breathed in deeply before sighing. "Want your regular tea?" he murmured, eyelashes brushing Sherlock's jaw as he spoke. Other than that, however, he hadn't moved at all, and seemed to have no intention to.

Stranger: "Don't move?" Sherlock asked softly, looking down at him. The kettle was whistling slightly, but Sherlock wanted to keep this position for a little longer. John was familiar, and warm, and terribly, terribly kind when he was like this. After taking a breath, he stood up and made his way over to the kitchen. He poured the tea and later returned to John, putting both cups in front of him. "There. Drink this. You can sleep in my bed, if you want."

You: As Sherlock looked down, John's lips parted ever so slightly. Not tonight. Not if this was absolutely going to happen without ruining what they had. So he followed Sherlock's instructions and simply leaned into him once more, attempting to be slighter closer if that was even possible. And then the man besides him sighed, and John moved into his own seat so the boy could get up. He withdrew his feet onto the sofa before sending Harry a crude -- but thankful -- text. When the other boy returned, he took one of the cups with a tight grin before frowning. "I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Sherlock. We've been through this before."

[liz-roleplays]

Looking for some role playing partners! Johnlock exclusively, though nearly all Aus are fair game. Email me at [email protected]!

[liz-roleplays]

A Shared Smoke

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like Johnlock.

You: The live jazz was loud and the smell of liquor was nearly suffocating. John Watson, clad in his newly pressed suit and hat, followed his mate into the party – apparently, this one was housed for “unacceptable ones”. Rather, the ones that wanted sex, liquor, or someone of the same sex. Of course, the last was still scandalous even at this party, but it was safer than the others. John followed Lestrade, unsure if he missed the old London or not. Lestrade handed John a cold glass of rum before catching the eye of a pretty little blonde. “You gonna be good, mate?” Lestrade hollered over the brass. John nodded, not wanting to hinder on Lestrade's possibly wonderfully night. He walked through the house, unsure as to where to go or how to just talk to someone. Then his eyes met a tall, dark haired man and his heart stopped. (20’s Sherlock)

Stranger: Sherlock had come for the tidbits, the party drugs that occasionally circled such groups as well as the lively music that had everyone on their feet. Oh, that music. If father Holmes could hear such music he'd be tossing in his grave yet Sherlock Holmes embraced it, adored it, attempted to catch its life in the notes on his violin. That was before. Now he was stupefied, which for a man with such education was rare. Across the room stood a short man, kitted out in a brimmed hat and a neat suit, all pressed and as new as a flower at dawn, not yet tainted by the party swarming around him. Sherlock pressed a hand to his heart and felt the buzzing of ten hundred bees. Something was wrong in there, this stranger had made something happen. He could see a man that fought in the first big war, a scar hidden under cloth and self consciousness. So the young man walked forward and remembered how to speak, managed to stand by the stranger and let him take the first word.

You: The man was younger than he, but not by much. At least, that was how he appeared. John's mouth went dry as he swallowed hard, adjusting the cane in his hand while taking a drink of rum. He looked around the room, trying not to appear so utterly taken, but then the man was standing next to him and his heard was pounding. He wouldn't want this, would he? A once great man ruined by war? He turned and looked up at the man, licking his lips before attempting a smile. "You know it's rude to stare," he said, tone in no way malicious, but rather quite entertained. He turned towards the man, giving him his full attention.

Stranger: Sherlock's pupils shrink then grew at the sheer voice this man had upon him; nothing short of a lion's roar, he was sure. "Well you were doing it too" he responded, keeping his tongue on a tight leash for he felt the need to blabber. People didn't enjoy his blabber, his exposing of their most sinful secrets with little effort. People shouldn't have been so see-through, Sherlock had decided, but now he knew not to offend. Offend and this man would leave. Sherlock glanced down to the cane. It couldn't have been a year old judging by the base. "That is a finely carved cane" he said quietly. "Done by the brothers down on Oxford street, no doubt." The initials J.W were carved into the wood. It wet the young man's appetite. He needed all of him, every last bite.

Stranger: Shrank*

You: There were more secrets in the army than anyone knew, though people suspected. It got lonely in the army. And that was when John realized just who attracted him. He looked down at the forgotten piece of wood before pressing his lips into a thin line. "So it was," he responded before looking back up, eyes darting between each of the man's. He couldn't decide which one was more compelling. "Your knowledge of canes is quite impressive," he countered, a playful grin coming to his lips.

Stranger: "I pride myself on having knowledge of many important things." He intentionally moved closer, let his eyes wander up J.W's figure like a leisurely stroll. Finally he caught his gaze again. "Sherlock Holmes." He abruptly jutted his hands out. "And you? I haven't seen you here before. It's rather a tightly knit place. I assume you came with someone, a friend." He took a quick gaze around the room. It didn't take long to find his acquaintance. "That man there?" He pointed to a grey haired fellow taking a dance with a curly haired doll.

You: John felt a slight chill run up his spine as he was examined thoroughly. Good enough for the man, apparently. Taking the man's hand in his own, John shook it, prolonging the handshake for a moment too long. "John. Captain John Watson," he responded before looking where the man directed. He grinned, brows furrowing in confusion as he looked back. "Yes, yes him exactly. How did you know?"

Stranger: "A new and unique science I have created. Quite recent, not well known. It is the Science of Deduction, /Captain/." He rolled the title on his tongue and purred it, bit down upon it like a sweet chocolate and inhaled it like cigarette smoke. At the thought he pulled out a silver case engraved with Latin. "Do you smoke?" His cigarettes were black and had the distinct taste of licorice roots, highly enjoyed by seldom few.

You: Oh good Lord, if he wasn't going to go home with this man then he would need a very long, very cold shower at the end of the night. "I do indeed," he responded, taking the fag that was handed to him. "It's quite good for you, you know," he responded lightly. "Doesn't have those side affects that the chemical medication does."

Stranger: "Mm." Sherlock had placed the cigarette between his lips, letting it hand as he retrieved his matches. He lit his own before lighting John Watson's. "Strengths the voice as well as the lungs. But nevertheless I will study into it. I trust nothing of what those chemists say." Sherlock inhaled deeply before allowing the smoke to gently billow from his lips with no forced breath. "And what brings you here besides your insistent friend, John? Not many like this place. It is considered quite scandalous to the common folk."

You: John took a long drag, pulling the cigarette from his lips as he blew a long stream of smoke towards the ceiling. "And are you calling me common, Mr. Holmes'?" he asked, a playful grin toying his mouth.

Stranger: His name would sound so idyllic moaned -over even screamed- from the grinning lips of John Watson. Sherlock returned the smile and answered. "Not at all. You are far from common. You were in the War, treating the wounded before you yourself become wounded. You, John," he reached forward and brushed two fingers against the back of the doctor's hand, "are very interesting." The fault of his words hit soon after and Sherlock let his hand fall to his side as he quickly took a drag. "My apologies. I should not have mentioned aspects of your private life."

You: His lips parted as Sherlock Holmes spoke, unable to ignore the eyes intense on his own. The brush of the fingers felt cool on his overheated skin. But... but there he was, a man telling everything about his life. His eyes widened a bit as he frowned and smiled, shaking his head. "No, no, that was.... well, that was fantastic."

Stranger: Fantastic: despite it being a word directed at him often it had never mattered as much as it did now, said by John. Sherlock regained his composure from where shock had shown through. "Are you sure? When I do that it is most often condemned a bad habit."

You: "Oh, Christ no." John laughed and shook his head as he watched Sherlock. "You... that is amazing, what you did. Downright brilliant." He took another drag of the cigarette, french haling before releasing the rest of it.

Stranger: Sherlock looked at John intently, allowed his intentions to be presented on his face. Boys kissing boys was nothing strange in a place like this but still the younger desired having the Captain to himself, somewhere clean with a large bed. He took several steps forward until his mouth was pressed against the other's ear, and here he breathed his words out: "Do you like men, Captain John Watson? Do you like me?" Sherlock dropped his cigarette to take the other's hand and place it upon the curve of his waist. He took John's other hand that still held the cigarette, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply, eyes closing for a second or two. "Because I like you." His words came out in thin smoke.

You: Was this allowed? Greg had said this was for other folk, but... Even so, when he walked in, he hadn't seen any other men kissing, no couples dancing that were of the same gender. Other, illicit, activities were occurring, sure, but nothing that could get him possibly jailed. His heart pounded against his chest and faintly he wondered if the other man would feel it. Thumb pressing small circles into Sherlock's hip, John grinned. "What? You can't guess this bit as well?" he hummed, taking a slow drag before pulling them together. With their lips pressed firmly together, he let the smoke pass between them, pulling away once his lugs were empty.

Stranger: It was sinfully, heavenly perfect. Sherlock opened his lips wide, readily accepted John's smoke with a prying tongue. He tasted of a man with something sweet attached. When John pulled away Sherlock remained still, eyes closed and lips still parted. Heat ran like fire through his skin. "I know a place" he started. "A balcony, seldom populated. It is beautiful. Will you go there with me?" He wanted John's hand to remain upon his hip, never to stray from its perfect place.

You: His deep pants threatened a low moan, but John swallowed it. "And from the ground?" he whispered, taking a step closer to the man as his cigarette burned slowly. "No one will see?" It wouldn't take much -- a simple yes or hell, even some sort of grin would convince John to follow along, to explore this man's mouth and neck thoroughly. Mess up his perfectly gelled hair.

Stranger: "It is hidden from all eyes." Between them Sherlock's hand slid down, placed hard upon the crotch of John's trousers. To all around them they were simply embracing, enjoying the poorly brewed wine and ecstatic atmosphere. "No-one will see." He took the hand on his waist, ready to lead him to their destination.

You: He growled, and nodded, cheeks flushed. "Go. We're going right now." John swallowed before licking his lips, tossing the cigarette to the ground and promptly stomping it out. He finished his drink and then sat up, going to follow Sherlock with a far quicker pace than he ever could have managed before.

Stranger has disconnected.

[liz-roleplays]

Headcases

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like johnlock.

You: The live jazz was loud and the smell of liquor was nearly suffocating. John Watson, clad in his newly pressed suit and hat, followed his mate into the party – apparently, this one was housed for “unacceptable ones”. Rather, the ones that wanted sex, liquor, or someone of the same sex. Of course, the last was still scandalous even at this party, but it was safer than the others. John followed Lestrade, unsure if he missed the old London or not. Lestrade handed John a cold glass of rum before catching the eye of a pretty little blonde. “You gonna be good, mate?” Lestrade hollered over the brass. John nodded, not wanting to hinder on Lestrade's possibly wonderfully night. He walked through the house, unsure as to where to go or how to just talk to someone. Then his eyes met a tall, dark haired man and his heart stopped. (20’s Sherlock)

Stranger: Sherlock Holmes was bored. He didn't quite know why he kept going back to this joint, but it was something of a routine by now. Besides, the men here were more interested in the same things he wanted. And the sensations just nearly blocked out the information constantly bombarding him. The booming jazz and the dancing bodies and the dark beaded curtains draped over every surface not taken over by a platter of drinks. He leaned against the bar on a hip, brushing off an imaginary piece of lint from his impeccable dark suit, and he was just about to order another drink when he accidentally caught the eye of a man - a man who made his head suddenly spin. He pretended he hadn't seen, but when the bartend stooped in to take his order, he ordered two drinks and had the bartend send the second one to the /medical ex-army fascinating bullet wound to shoulder? not leg despite the limp fascinating history of being a ladies' man here with a friend also a ladies' man.. friend - Lestrade? Lestrade is here with this man, who is this man, fascinating/....

You: As soon as the man looked away, John did as well, tearing his eyes from the tall stranger to cast a glance around the room. He quickly drank the liquor, the empty glass remaining in his hand until the bartender came up to him. When handed a new glass, he looked to inquire where it had come from and instantly a rush of heat overcame his body. John nodded a thanks, hand working his cane as he worked up the courage. With one good breath and a drink of the wonderfully burning liquor, he limped over, glass in hand. "Is it customary for men to buy other men drinks nowadays?" he asked, licking his lips as his eyes slightly dilated.

Stranger: Sherlock smirked into his own glass, resisting the temptation to turn towards the slighter shorter man, though he could see out of the corner of his eye the man's hair glowing under the albeit dim lights. "Not as such, no," he granted, grimacing from the burn of the drink, lowering it to look inside the glass appreciatively. "But I don't much care for customs, do you? Not when they deny me someone like you." Now he did turn towards the other man, pleased by the signs of interest already showing. He barely stopped to consider /why/ he found this stranger so appealing; his mind was turning so splendidly from the man's mere presence.

You: His cheeks warmed pleasantly at the compliment, and John took another drink of the booze. "Perhaps they should make this such a custom," he responded lightly, the playful twinkle in his eye only growing as he watched the man with obvious interest, "if everyone could experience this particularly unique happening." John grinned, switching the glass in his hand to the other before offering. "Captain John Watson."

Stranger: Sherlock smoothly accepted John's hand, turning the man's name around in his head. "Sherlock Holmes." He glanced around the room, spying a couple exiting a table in the corner. "Shall we sit? I would ask you to dance, but I'm not sure if..." He cocked his head, gesturing to the crowd with an apologetic half-smile.

You: John looked over before nodding, a tight smile coming across his lips before he waved his hand. "Lead the way, Mr. Holmes," he murmured, following Sherlock to the table. Once he sat, his cane placed besides him like an obedient dog that followed him around, John allowed himself to get a good look at the stranger's face. His eyes roamed lazily over his cheeks, nose, mouth, jaw, before finally returning to his eyes.

You: (Get that?)

Stranger: ((Yes, sorry, one second c:))

You: (Okay <3 it's good, I just wanted to make sure my internet didn't blip)

Stranger: Sherlock smirked faintly as he felt John study his face, and he took the opportunity to study John in turn. What he didn't really expect is for his own guard to come down so quickly when he found himself saying, "You'd given up on finding a partner, on falling in love - with a woman or a man - when you came back from the war. But when Gavin" - /Gavin? Geoff?/ - "Lestrade offered for you to join him, you didn't hesitate. That suit is newly pressed but not new itself, you've had it since before you went off to war, you've lost some weight since then, it's not precisely tailored to fit as it was before. That means you don't put in as much effort into your looks right now, so you're not following in Lestrade's exact footsteps in trying to find someone." Sherlock clamped his mouth shut, pursing his lips and looking off to the side, a blush threatening to creep up his collar. /Christ, now you'd done it, Holmes./

You: Finding Sherlock watching him, he relaxed, not noticing the slowly dissolving phantom pain in his leg. It was nice, to feel this again, to feel even remotely useful. Even if it was for someone else's pleasure. And then the man began to speak, and all thoughts vanished from his brain. The baritone spoke with rhythm that was not intended, a type of rising and falling that kept him entranced. The information, all exactly correct, was expelled in a relatively quick manner and once he was finished, John just watched for a few seconds. "That was... incredible," he murmured after a few moments of silence, eyes still resolute on Sherlock's.

You: Finding Sherlock watching him, he relaxed, not noticing the slowly dissolving phantom pain in his leg. It was nice, to feel this again, to feel even remotely useful. Even if it was for someone else's pleasure. And then the man began to speak, and all thoughts vanished from his brain. The baritone spoke with rhythm that was not intended, a type of rising and falling that kept him entranced. The information, all exactly correct, was expelled in a relatively quick manner and once he was finished, John just watched for a few seconds. "That was... incredible," he murmured after a few moments of silence, eyes still resolute on Sherlock's.

Stranger: ((Sorry it's taking me so long to reply, eek))

You: (Oh no, it's absolutely fine <3 <3 I just really want to make sure that i don't lose you)

You: (Also, brb :P)

Stranger: Sherlock swallowed, flicking his gaze back to John, holding his gaze this time. "You think so?" he said so timidly he didn't recognize his own voice. He cleared his throat subtly, watching John carefully while at the same time keeping his senses tuned to whomever around them may be a possible threat.

Stranger: ((Okey))

Stranger: ((While you're gone, I'm just gonna add onto my reply hehe..))

Stranger: A few...incidents had occurred before, when Sherlock hadn't been paying close enough attention. He wasn't keen on it happening again, not this time.

You: (Aaand back)

You: "Oh, absolutely," he responded immediately, resolve strong. "It was stunning, just absolutely stunning." John sat back, finger delicately following the top of the glass. "How could you possibly know such things?" he murmured, not realizing how his face glowed in a way that it hadn't in so terribly long.

Stranger: Sherlock grinned briefly, blinking down at John's finger tracing the rim of his glass. Another sign of interest. "I don't /know/. I observe. I see all the things everyone sees, all the time, day after day, minute after minute, but I can...connect the dots." He raised a hand to press two fingers to his temple. "It's all in my head, I can see it clear as day. We're similar in a few respects, when you take that into account, then." He chuckled, leaning forward a bit. "We not only are both interested in the opposite sex, how /very/ scandalous, by the by, but we are also, uh, for lack of a better term, headcases. I have my observations, you have your limp. It's all in your mind, John." He dared to move his hand from his own temple to John's in a mirror image.

You: The soft touch brought his pulse up a bit, eyes dilating ever so slightly. "It would make sense, seeing as I was shot in my left shoulder," he murmured, raising a hand and capturing Sherlock's hand, squeezing it before lowering both of their hands. Despite what Lestrade had mentioned about the queer folk in the club, he was still nervous, still unsure. He wet his lips before taking another drink, watching the man with renewed interest. "So, Sherlock Holmes, what in the world is a man like you doing in a place like this?" He waved his hand towards the rest of the party. "This place is for people who need to escape."

Stranger: Sherlock's smile turned rueful. "Oh, I--" He glanced around casually, spreading his arms. "It's a habit. I used to come here a lot a few years ago. Back then, this was the perfect escape hatch for me. My brother wasn't very happy about it. But now it's just a bit of fun." He winked at John playfully, proving his point.

[liz-roleplays]

A Rainy Return

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like teenlock, johnlock, and omegaverse.

Stranger: [2:00 am] Can't sleep. SH (post-return)

You: Neither can I, funny enough. JW

Stranger: Any advice? SH

You: Hot tea, warm shower, melatonin is also nice. JW

You: What have you tried? JW

Stranger: All of the above. Composing. Cold cases. SH

Stranger: In the two and a half weeks I've been back, I've solved a good dozen supposedly 'cold' cases. SH

You: Well Jesus, Sherlock. You're going to run yourself into the ground if you keep going like this. JW

Stranger: If it gets me some decent sleep, then so be it. SH

You: [Slight delay] I'm coming over. Start the fire and put on the kettle. I expect a night of crap tele if neither of us can sleep. JW

Stranger: Door's unlocked. SH

Stranger: Don't you dare force me to watch Classic Who. SH

You: Heroin and cocaine won't help you sleep, you know. JW

Stranger: I am on neither. SH

You: We are watching only the most trash of all talk shows. JW

You: Good. Good, I'm glad. JW

Stranger: I take it you won't mind when I pick apart the guests on said shows? SH

You: It'll be a comfort, I assure you. JW

Stranger: Good. SH

You: I'm still... upset. JW

Stranger: I don't blame you. SH

You: And I don't know how long it'll take me to not be upset. JW

Stranger: I know. It's fine. SH

You: [Slight delay] But I'm coming over at 2:30 in the morning, leaving a note for my girlfriend. JW

Stranger: For which I am immensely grateful. SH

You: Just know that I'm doing it as much for my sake as yours. JW

Stranger: John, you could be doing this entirely selfishly, and I would still be grateful. SH

You: [Delay] Yes. Right. Well. I hope you have dodgy jammers. Walking this distance in the rain is making me hungry. JW

Stranger: Why the Hell did you walk?! SH

Stranger: And of course I have, I'm just as fond of them as you are. SH

You: Because there aren't any bloody cabs running this late on a weekday, Sherlock. JW

You: Front door open, you said? JW

Stranger: There ought to be. If I'd known that I would have told you to stay where you were.... SH

Stranger: Of course. SH

You: He didn't respond to the last message and instead stepped inside the familiar building. Nostalgia washed over him as he shook out his hair, leaving a small puddle on the front mat before climbing the stairs. There was a phantom pain in his leg, though not strong enough to give him a limp. Never since Sherlock. It took him a moment, a cleansing breath before he pushed the door open, shivering slightly from his wet pyjamas and hair.

Stranger: Sherlock set both mugs on the coffee table, looking at John as he came in and sighing. "Extra pyjamas, my room, second drawer. Change." God, but wasn't it just like John? Loyal and stubborn and devoted and... Well, the list did go on, Sherlock knew full well. "And... Thank you."

You: If the dark circles beneath his eyes didn't explain anything to Sherlock, then perhaps the man was just ignoring everything. He smiled before ding so, closing the door behind him. For the most part, there was still copious amounts of dust, however, John could see where Sherlock had walked, where he had begun to clean again. With the drawer open, he took the pyjamas and held them against his face, breathing deeply before changing. They were too long and the top a bit too tight, but they were dry and warm, and smelled of Sherlock. He walked back out to the den and sat on the couch, taking his mug. "Were these from before or did you buy new ones? Can't say I see you fitting into those after."

Stranger: "Before. They'd be too big now." He replied, flopping onto the other end of the couch. It was a strange feeling, guilt mixing with happiness. Because John being here as, frankly, wonderful. Without him here, 221b was a flat. Nothing more. John made it home, whether he was aware of it or not. But... The evidence of the toll Sherlock's absence had taken was written all over John. His face, his body. No use commenting on it, John knew better than anyone what Sherlock's absence had done to him. So Sherlock sipped his tea and handed the remote to John, fingers brushing the back of John's hand.

You: His heart palpitated at the brush, but he swallowed, ignoring it. This was something he had forgotten about, the electricity between them every time they touched. The hand holding the mug trembled slightly and John pressed his thin lips into a white line in response. No longer at war, he thought bemusedly, and set the ceramic against his leg before flipping on the television. At this hour, there was no lack of crap tele and it seemed the first channel he flipped to was rooted in paternity tests and harsh words soaked in a Cockney accent. Satisfied, he set the remote between them before putting his feet up on the coffee table as he had done before without notice. "Perhaps I'll steal some of them. Mine are getting old."

Stranger: "If you insist." Came the soft reply as he tucked his legs up. "Though they'll all be too long for you..." Sherlock let his focus slip to the tele, brow furrowed as he took in information. "Not the father. Wants to be the father, though he's trying to convince himself he doesn't. Or doesn't care. She knows it's not him, wants him to act it anyway."

You: He closed his eyes at the sound of Sherlock's baritone, their old routines coming into play, and wasn't it just /beautiful/. "How could you tell?" he murmured, still not opening his eyes as he took a drink of tea. "Was it the smudge on his shoe or his right eyebrow?"

Stranger: "Body language and vocal tone. He's still wearing clothes from when they were together, doesn't even realize it. Denials are forced, made while looking at his lawyer. She's wearing everything second-hand, bought cheap. Can't handle the financial stress." He spoke quietly and slowly, not rambling off reasons at the usual speed. This was lazy, relaxed. Better, somehow. Not done to show off but to fill the time.

You: His breathing came easier now, it seemed. For the first time, he was able to take a full, deep breath. Odd. That was one thing John hadn't noticed. Another sip of his tea, and /Hell/, Sherlock still remembered how to make his tea perfectly. When the results came and the man accepted the mother, John simply smiled before opening his eyes and looking over at Sherlock. "Right again."

Stranger has disconnected.

[we-areyoung-volcanoes]

Anyone willing to rp? My email address is [email protected]  Omegle isn’t working for me right now and I really need a distraction.

I have prompts. I just need a willing partner.

[liz-roleplays]

Temper of the Wolf

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like Johnlock.

You: ((WereLock)) I will be out late tonight. Won’t be back until morning. Don't wait up. JW

Stranger: You are making a pattern of nights out. SH

You: If you're trying to deduce whatever it is about me, then just stop. I'm not in the mood. JW

Stranger: Temper, temper. You do get moody at times, don't you? SH

You: Done? JW

You: You're rarely in a good mood so don't chastise me about i. JW

You: it

Stranger: [Delayed response] Fine. Go, then. I have other things to entertain myself with. SH

You: Jesus Christ. We'll talk tomorrow. Don't bloody pout. JW

Stranger: I'm not pouting. Go waste away with whatever you're doing. SH

You: [Delayed] I'm coming back for an hour. We'll talk. JW

Stranger: Fine. SH

You: His skin was too tight. His nose itched from the overpowering senses, blood pounding in his ears. This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. Everything told him to leave, to keep Sherlock, as well as himself, protected. But there was something wrong, something wrong with Sherlock, and dammit if he couldn't keep himself together long enough to make sure it wasn't a danger night. Finally his cab pulled up, back home, and John sighed, rubbing his neck before paying the driver and getting out. Just keep it together.

Stranger: Sherlock stood by the window, violin trapped between chin and shoulder, dragging the bow sharply across the strings and eliciting a screech of protest from the instrument. John was hiding something. John wasn't supposed to hide things. He was supposed to be honest, and Sherlock was supposed to know what he was doing. It was supposed to be easy, obvious, so what was clouding his judgement on this? Scowling at the sight of John getting out of a cab, Sherlock lowered his violin and turned away from the window, putting the instrument carefully back in its place. What was it John was keeping such a secret?

You: Oh Christ, this was a bloody awful idea. Even before he ascended the stairs, he could smell Sherlock, could smell the experiments and the oil for his violin. All it did was put him even more on edge. Trying to pull himself together, he walked into the flat, hanging up his jacket with precise movements. "What's wrong, Sherlock?"

Stranger: Sherlock had settled in his armchair before the other entered, fingers pressed together, indexes pressed against his chin. John was tense, tight, not happy. "I could ask the same of you," he countered. "Running off into the night once more, coming back in the morning worn out and in more foul a mood than you are already."

You: A slow exhale was forced through his lips as John made his way over to his own chair, sitting down. A muscle jumped painfully jumped in his arm, causing him to frown even further and try to rub it out. "I asked first," he countered, the playfulness in his voice sounding slightly bitter from his god awful mood.

Stranger: Sherlock's brows knot together at the deepened frown on the other's face, the bitterness that weighted down his words. Turning his head to look away, Sherlock crossed his legs, somewhat closing himself off. "Just leave if you're in such a foul mood. There is no need for you to be here."

You: John pressed his lips together in a thin line, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm here... because I care," he spoke, choosing his words and tone carefully. "I care about you and I care about how you feel. Now please, Sherlock, I'm not that big of an idiot to realize you're not upset simply because I'm... grumpy."

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged his shoulders slightly, considering not responding at all. John's mood would likely only become worse, however, and he had no desire to be the cause of that. "Who are you constantly going to see?"

You: "What?" Confusion overtook any other emotion, the seemingly growing black cloud disappearing for a moment.

Stranger: Sherlock let out a low sound in the back of his throat, pushing down at the displeasure that was growing in him. "You always leave, and are different when you come back. Are you seeing someone with the intentions of leaving?"

You: John frowned. And then he frowned even more deeply. "Sherlock," he murmured, voice low as he looked up, elbows on his knees. "I'm not leaving. Not now, and not anywhere in the foreseeable future."

Stranger: "Then why do you keep leaving?" Sherlock question, finally looking back to John. "If you have nowhere else to be going to, no one else you want to be with, why can't you simply stay here? It isn't like you're going for pints with Lestrade, I asked him."

You: In the eye contact, John swallowed hard. The truth. He would tell only the truth because it wasn't worth this. Another muscle, lower back, grabbed. He ignored it. "I love London. You know I do. But it makes me antsy. Anxious, sometimes. So I go out to the country, spend the night there. I don't see anyone. Quite the opposite, really. It's simply me."

Stranger: Sherlock's frown didn't leave his face. Love London. After a moment, Sherlock pushed himself to his feet. "Fine, go, then. This conversation is rather pointless, I believe." He brushed past John's armchair, heading for his bedroom.

You: A growl built up in his chest as he reached out, grabbing Sherlock's arm with more than enough pressure to cause bruising. "Don't you dare leave." As soon as the words were out, the wound inflicted, John instantly recoiled, hand dropping, stepping out of his chair and away from Sherlock. He cleared his throat, eyes immediately dropping to the ground. "There are reasons why I can't tell you."

Stranger: Sherlock winced at the bruising grip, drawling back as soon as he was released, turning to face John, arm held almost protectively against his chest. This wasn't his John, was it? "So you'd rather simply lie to me constantly instead of telling me where you're going, or what you're doing? I don't see that as being a good idea."

You: He was trembling, now, ever so slightly. Muscles were grabbing, jumping at a more frequent rate. He needed to leave immediately. "Because one time I didn't leave, Sherlock. I didn't leave and I killed my friend. So yes. Believe it or not it is a good idea." Exhaling slowly, John closed his eyes, squeezing his hands into fists.

Stranger has disconnected.

[liz-roleplays]

John!lock -- The Wedding Planner

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like johnlock.

Stranger: There's no need to wait up this evening. I highly doubt I'll be back in at a decent hour. SH

You: Finding yourself a hot date, then? JW

Stranger: Oh, yes. I have one of the most riveting of sex lives. SH

You: Seeing as that /is/ the typical message you would send to your flatmate if you were about to go have a shag, I'm hardly to accuse of being silly. JW

You: What's the special occasion then? JW

Stranger: Technically, it /is/ a date. SH

Stranger: But it's for a case. SH

You: And I'm not invited? Insulted, I truly am. JW

Stranger: No, John, you aren't invited to my feaux-date. SH

Stranger: Sorry to disappoint, but it would seem a /bit/ suspicious, don't you think? SH

You: You always pop in on mine. SH

You: Is there a chance that you could be killed? Between 40-70%? JW

You: *JW

Stranger: Not unless he's hiding some sort of weaponry beneath his suit. SH

Stranger: Which I doubt. SH

You: If you even suspect the slightest bit that he may, you better bloody tell me. JW

Stranger: I'm not out here to get /chased/, John. SH

Stranger: Not literally, anyway. SH

You: Then what are you out there to do? You're not one to go on a date that easily. JW

Stranger: I needed a way to find out information about the wife of the victim. SH

Stranger: This is her brother. SH

You: I suppose that's one way to do it then. JW

Stranger: I couldn't very well date the /wife/. SH

Stranger: Not even /I/ could fake that. SH

You: So you're going to be out late dating some bloke in attempt to get information about a suspect. JW

You: Right. Well, I suppose I'll leave the light on, if you're set and ready. JW

Stranger: What do you mean? SH

Stranger: And surely I've done worse things. SH

Stranger: Not sure what I'll do if he invites me to his, though. SH

You: Say no? JW

Stranger: What if I need more information? SH

You: Then ask him for another date. Simple. JW

Stranger: This is time sensitive information. The human brain easily forgets, especially when something is attributed to short term memory. SH

You: So you'll go back to his and try to get him to talk about his sister while he's getting ready for a shag. JW

Stranger: ((are you still typing or does omegle fail))

You: (It was an omegle fail)

Stranger: ((can you resend please))

You: So you'll go back to his and try to get him to talk about his sister while he's getting ready for a shag. JW

Stranger: I suppose I can manage something. SH

Stranger: He isn't /un/ attractive. SH

You: You would have sex just for a case? JW

You: Never mind. Obviously you would. JW

Stranger: I wouldn't have /sex/...sex. SH

You: Just be bloody safe about it. JW

You: Not sex sex? Then what sort? JW

Stranger: There are other things to do than penetration, John. SH

You: Because it all adds up to pretty much the same thing. JW

You: And if he'd try to get you off afterwards? JW

Stranger: Not sure. Depends if I enjoyed it or not. SH

You: Right. Well, good luck with all of that. JW

Stranger: Don't be a prude, John. It's unbecoming. SH

You: How am I a prude? I was simply wishing you luck on your big night. JW

Stranger: It isn't a "big night". SH

Stranger: Oral sex isn't something to be celebratory about. SH

You: It's still sex, Sherlock. You're still giving someone a great amount of pleasure. JW

You: But you don't think sex is a big deal. Right. I'd forgotten about that. JW

Stranger: I never said that. SH

Stranger: There's a reason I wouldn't go any further than that, John. SH

You: Well I'm glad you have some limits. JW

Stranger: Don't act like you haven't had indiscriminate relations.SH

You: Which is why I regretted it the moment I sent it. JW

You: So a reason? You have a reason as to why you'd give a complete stranger a blow job? JW

Stranger: It's not exactly new territory. SH

You: Oh. And... and any further is? JW

Stranger: For all intents and purposes, yes. SH

You: Right. Well. Still use a condom. STIs can transmit and I'd prefer it if you didn't come home with herpes. JW

You: You can tell me all about it tomorrow over a cuppa. JW

Stranger: For God's sake, John. SH

Stranger: Do you want to know about all of the sexual experiences I've had since we met? S

Stranger: You seem rather keen. SH

You: I meant about the the information, Sherlock. JW

Stranger: Right. And that comment about the herpes was what? You playing /Doctor/ with me? SH

Stranger: I am not an idiot. And I carry condoms in my coat. SH

You: Yes, and I try to make sure that you have a friend with a gun in the back of their trousers when you're out chasing criminals. JW

You: You're not an idiot, Sherlock, but you aren't the most careful person either. JW

Stranger: I am well aware of the consequences of casual sex. Believe me. SH

You: Since you're so prepared then, go have a nice date. I'm going out. JW

Stranger: You're acting /really/ strangely. Why? SH

You: I'm fine. JW

Stranger: You're acting like my mother when I brought home my first boyfriend. SH

Stranger: Truly, I think you've quoted her. SH

You: Your mother must be a woman of wisdom then. JW

Stranger: My mother is ridiculous. SH

You: You can't choose your mother but you /did/ choose your flatmate. JW

Stranger: Yes, I did. SH

Stranger: And I made a good choice. SH

You: [Delayed] Bit of the Oedipus complex there. Living with a man that speaks like your mother. JW

Stranger: Not unless I wanted a sexual relationship with that man. SH

Stranger: [delay] Technically speaking. SH

You: And technically, I suppose you would have to kill your father, or someone like him. JW

You: What time did you say your date was again? JW

Stranger: I didn't. SH

Stranger: Half an hour. SH

You: There goes my theory then. JW

You: Is /he/ anything like your mother? JW

Stranger: What theory? SH

Stranger: And I've spoken to him once. Not sure. SH

You: At least he isn't bad looking. Would you still go out with him if he was something hideous to look at? JW

You: Oedipus complex. You, with your mother loving self. That theory. JW

Stranger: Since this is for a case, yes, I would have. SH

Stranger: And do shut up about my mother, please. SH

You: You were the one that brought her up. JW

You: Alright. Don't order anything with garlic or onion. At least, nothing too strong. Milk products will give you horrible breath as well. JW

Stranger: And you were the one who mentioned an Oedipus complex. SH

You: I'm acting like your mother, not mentioning her. JW

You: They're good tips. If you /are/ going to get shagged tonight, I'd rather it be somewhat fulfilling. JW

Stranger: I'm not going to get shagged, John. SH

Stranger: Not in the manner I would prefer, anyway. SH

You: Well I'm sure he'd be more than willing if you did go back to his. JW

Stranger: No. SH

You: [Slight delay] You would want a woman then? JW

Stranger: A woman? SH

You: Is that what you meant? The 'manner you would prefer'? JW

Stranger: Oh God, no. SH

Stranger: /No/. SH

You: Oh. Alright then. JW

You: See, I would ask more questions as a caring friend, however, last time I tried, you accused me of being too interested. JW

Stranger: Ask whatever you like. I'm bored. SH

You: What would you want, then? JW

Stranger: I like it when a man is rough with me. You know, pushed into the mattress and commanding me, that sort of thing. SH

Stranger: Hardly something I would do with a stranger. SH

You: Yeah. Need a bit of trust for that one. A safety word wouldn't hurt either. JW

You: Can't say I blame you there. JW

You: [Delay] Would you ever do it? You know, the shagging? JW

Stranger: Well obviously I would do it, since it's something I enjoy. Why wouldn't I? It's finding a partner that's difficult. SH

You: I meant the penetrating, Sherlock. Topping, or whatever it is they call it. JW

Stranger: Oh. SH

Stranger: Probably, if I trusted him enough. Bit...inexperienced in that area. SH

You: Right. Right, understandable. Absolutely. JW

Stranger: I would have to care for him. Deeply. SH

Stranger: It's like losing your virginity all over again. SH

You: And your first? Did you care for him? JW

Stranger: I did, yes. Very much so. SH

You: Good. I'm glad. JW

You: You deserve that, you know? To have someone close and caring for you and him in return. JW

You: [Slight delay] I'm with Greg right now. Having a few beers. JW

Stranger: You deserve that too, you know. A good woman. SH

Stranger: I hope you enjoy yourself. SH

You: Can't say I ever see myself marrying to be quite frank. JW

Stranger: No? I thought that was something you would want. SH

Stranger: I would, at some point. With the proper man, I think. SH

You: Before I went into the war, perhaps. But I'm enjoying my life right now to think of changing it. JW

You: Really? You with a husband? Perhaps there's some form of genius speed dating. JW

Stranger: I hardly think I would find a husband via /speed dating/. SH

Stranger: Love was good to me when I had it. I should like to have it again. SH

Stranger: Kept me right. SH

You: Tell me about him. JW

Stranger: He was good, kind. Physics student, but loved chemistry. We used to teach each other. SH

Stranger: Tall, only slightly shorter than I am. Fair hair. Not overly thin, but certainly didn't need to lose weight. SH

You: What happened, then? JW

Stranger: Bit of a run-in with substances. SH

Stranger: Too much. SH

You: I'm so, so sorry, Sherlock. JW

Stranger: It was at university. An age ago. SH

Stranger: Different lifetime, really. SH

You: I see. JW

You: Nearly time. I should probably let you go for your 'date'. JW

Stranger: He's running late. SH

Stranger: Besides, I'm enjoying our conversation. I don't have many chances to talk so freely to my friend. SH

You: Thank you, by the way. For telling me all of this. JW

Stranger: I'll tell you anything, if only you ask. SH

Stranger: I trust you. SH

You: Me too. Questions, I mea. And the trust thing too. JW

You: Suppose we have to trust each other at this point, huh?

You: *mean

Stranger: We've been through quite a bit not to. SH

You: Far too much, if you ask me. JW

You: Do you still think of it? The pool? JW

Stranger: [delay] Every day. SH

You: I get flashbacks, sometimes. Hard to break out of them at night. JW

Stranger: You calm down when I play violin. SH

You: I do, yeah. And sometimes, if I'm far gone enough, I swear to god that we actually died, and now we're in some sort of Heaven. JW

Stranger: Why's that? SH

You: Life's nearly perfect right now. And then, you play that one song, and the entire thing just feels ethereal. JW

You: That'd be my form of Heaven, I think. Life right now with your playing in the background. JW

Stranger: You care that much for my music? SH

Stranger: [delay] I did write that song for you. SH

You: Of course I bloody care for your music. Anything else and I'd throw a rampage when you play at three in the morning and I have work at seven. JW

You: It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, Sherlock. JW

Stranger: It reminds me of you. I play it when you're at work. SH

You: Someone has to pay the bills. JW

You: Greg just asked me why I'm grinning like a bloody idiot. Didn't even feel it. JW

You: May be time to go home soon. JW

Stranger: Why /are/ you grinning? SH

You: How could I not right now? JW

Stranger: Because I've composed for you? Really? SH

You: Because something so beautiful can remind you of me. JW

Stranger: I have more, you know. In the mind palace. SH

You: You should play them for me sometime. JW

Stranger: I can't. SH

You: What? Why? You play that one just fine. JW

Stranger: No, you don't understand. SH

Stranger: There's too many of them. SH

You: One a night then. Maybe two. You can just keep playing them until we're both old and grey and can't run after criminals any longer. JW

Stranger: You would stay with me that long? SH

You: That's sure in hell what I'm planning, as long as we both survive that long. JW

You: [Delay] Why? Did you have other ideas? JW

Stranger: [delay] It sounds to me like /you/ should be my husband. SH

You: Maybe. We're close enough to a married pair as it is anyways. JW

You: Wouldn't that be ironic? I'd hate telling everyone that they were right. JW

You: Smug bastards. JW

Stranger: [delay] Yes. Amusing. SH

You: Fucking Angelo would be beaming like a goddamn mother playing matchmaker. Or Mike. Mike too. JW

Stranger: Lestrade would act like a proud father. SH

You: He'd probably want to walk you down the aisle. JW

Stranger: My brother would simply say he told me so. SH

You: My sister would fucking lose it. She would go on about how there must be something in our blood or some shit like that. JW

Stranger: As would Mycroft. SH

Stranger: They'd be clucking together at the reception. Far too colourful a corner. SH

You: Jesus. It'd be a corner of rainbows and talking bad about us behind our backs. JW

You: You'd have to record a song. JW

Stranger: Oh dear God. SH

You: For our first dance. what else would we danc e to? JW

Stranger: I think it would be rather fitting, considering. SH

You: It's not as though we have some other song. JW

You: plus it'd be orignal. creative, brilliant, like you JW

Stranger: But it would have to be of a marked tempo. Strong, but surprisingly sentimental. Jovial, like you. SH

You: a hardened demeanor with sweet undertones. bit of a wlatz, perhaps. you seem like a waltx JW

Stranger: I love a good waltz. SH

You: knew it jW

You: [Delayed] were talkgn about our wedding while you're waitng for a date JW

Stranger: Are you alright? SH

You: few beers. its fine JW

Stranger: Your hands are shaking, John. SH

You: hwo would you wnko that? you're a genkus, not pshyciJW

Stranger: You're barely typing in English. SH

You: Hey mate. It's Greg. I'm getting John into a cab and back to your flat for the night. He'll be fine, just got a bit excited with the drinks. JW

Stranger: Take care of him, will you? SH

Stranger: [delay] I think I may be coming home. SH

You: Course, mate. As it is, he won't stop grinning for some reason. Have to say, he's in quite the happy place. JW

You: Really? Thought you had some sort of date tonight? JW

Stranger: John is more important. SH

Stranger: And it seems we were planning our wedding. SH

You: Oh Jesus. JW

You: I'll get him back to the flat and then he's yours for the taking. JW

Stranger: We weren't /really/ planning it. SH

Stranger: It was sort of a...a joke, a story, that got out of hand. SH

You: Well when you two start planning for /real/, let me know. I've got a pot going on at the Yard, and I'm getting two hundred quid if you two get together before the end of the year. JW

Stranger: We aren't going to get together. SH

You: Says you, perhaps. JW

Stranger: We aren't. SH

Stranger: Trust me. SH

You: You're telling me that this man is sitting here, still grinning like a mad man, because you two were planning your /wedding/. JW

Stranger: [delay] Fake wedding. SH

You: Right, because that's what we all do in our spare time. Plan our fake wedding with our best friend. JW

Stranger: [delay] He said that I should record a song for our first dance. SH

You: Absolutely platonic. Of course. JW

You: You know what's going to happen, Sherlock. You /have/ to know what's going through this guy's mind. JW

Stranger: I assume you're going to tell me anyway. SH

You: Apparently, I don't have you. You two have already mapped it out. JW

You: *don't have to

Stranger: What, that he's seriously considering /marrying/ me? SH

Stranger: That's ridiculous. SH

You: Well maybe not /now/. JW

You: But you're considering it. JW

Stranger: Shut up, Greg. SH

You: He wants his phone back, though I'm not sure if you'll be able to understand a word he types. JW

Stranger: Give it to him, but ask him to type slowly. SH

You: what were you too talking about? JW

Stranger: Dear God. SH

Stranger: John, I have a question to ask that I think can only be properly answered with you highly intoxicated. SH

You: wel, perfect time to ask then JW

Stranger: Do you think about our wedding often? SH

Stranger: I mean, did it cross your mind before this evening? SH

You: not the wedding JW

You: never thot you wood want that JW

Stranger: What have you thought of? SH

You: everything else JW

You: my favourite though is us together in your bed, old and grey. we're both reding something. jw

You: doesn't that sound great? jW

Stranger: [delay] Are you in love with me? SH

You: i thought you were a genius JW

Stranger: John, you have to tell me. SH

You: coure i do you bloooody itiod JW

Stranger: I'm going to come home, and you're going to rest. SH

You: you have your date though, and th case and the sex that's not sex but really is jW

Stranger: I'm not going through with the date. I'll find another way to get information. SH

Stranger: I'm coming home and you're going to lie in my bed with water and aspirin. SH

You: you're doing the thing JW

Stranger: The thing. SH

You: yeah. the thing that you do jW

Stranger: What thing? SH

You: i don't know. mkes me happy though JW

Stranger: I don't understand what I'm doing. SH

You: liek earlier you said you play the song for me when i have flashbacks JW

You: that was the thing JW

Stranger: You like when I take care of you. SH

You: maybe thats it yeah JW

Stranger: I love you, John, and I'm going to come home and take care of you for as long as you'll let me. SH

You: good. ican't find he lightswitch JW

Stranger: Tell Greg to put you in my bed. SH

You: he left. taking the cab to hsi. Jw

You: yuor chair will doJW

Stranger: If you can't make it to my room, then the chair is fine. SH

You: hm. smells like you JW

Stranger: My bed will be better. SH

You: you will be best jW

Stranger: I'm almost home, John. SH

You: yuo were going to have s shag tnight JW

Stranger: I don't care about any of that. SH

You: you said you liked it JW

Stranger: I was lying. SH

You: why would you do that? no reason to lie to me JW

Stranger: I didn't want you thinking that I cared for you. SH

You: then this wouldn't have hapepned, would it? JW

Stranger: I was an idiot. SH

You: yeah that's true JW

Stranger: Thank you. SH

You: anytime sherJW

Stranger: You realise I have to properly ask you when you're sober. SH

You: and yuo know i'l be the idot JW

Stranger: What do you mean? SH

You: you scare em. you get bored with everythng so quickly that im afradione day youll get bored of me toJW

Stranger: John, I can honestly say that I will never bore of you. SH

You: convince me when im sober and im yours JW

Stranger: Done. SH

You: jesus you home yet? JW

[liz-roleplays]

Greaser!lock -- Stolen Moments

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like johnlock, teenlock, and greaserlock.

You: [Greaserlock AU] Speedy's was the place to be on Friday nights. The juke box blared Presley as the waitresses whizzed around on the standard red and white roller blades, serving Milkshakes, burgers, and fries. The only male waiter of the joint buzzed around on his skates. His name tag read "Johnny", his real name John Watson. He took their orders and hummed as he whirled back to the kitchen and hung the order. Next? The counter. He wheeled over to the counter, grinning as he saw his favourite regular. "Typical deluxe burger meal with a chocolate shake?" he asked, hand ready to write down the order.

Stranger: Sherlock cast his eyes over the young boy as he approached, and he couldn't keep the smile from creeping up on his face. "Just the shake, I think." He wore an old leather jacket, the collar turned up, and a pair of fading jeans. His dark hair had all been slicked back, save for one unruly curl which had escaped and bounced against his forehead. He leaned in closer over the counter, his voice dropping a little lower. "Unless you're on the menu tonight."

You: John raised an eyebrow as he wrote the order down, looking up at the boy. "You know some people aren't that kind to what you're implying," he murmured before ripping the ticket from the pad and went to go make the milkshake. When he returned, he placed it in from tot the man, two cherries on top instead of the one.

Stranger: Sherlock lifted the glass, letting the straw linger in front of his lips for a moment. "I do hope I didn't put you off too terribly." He took a long slow sip, his eyes not leaving John's for an instant. "Though, I'd still be interested to know when your shift ends."

You: Licking his lips, John raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Nine thirty," he murmured, going to grab more plates of food. "Meet me out back." And then John went to deliver the food, quite aware that he was being watched as he skated.

Stranger: Smirking to himself, Sherlock silently finished his shake, popping the cherries in his mouth as he watched John move between customers. He left a twenty quid tip, zipped up his jacket, and left. From there, he turned down the alley, lighting a cigarette.

You: Upon seeing the tip, his lips curled up, mood significantly increased by not only the proposition but the tip as well. He hummed as he finished his shift, spinning between customers and waitresses. The smile came easier somehow. When his shift finally ended, John changed back into his tennis shoes and grabbed his letterman jacket, and exited through the back, turning the corner and grinned as he saw the boy. "Still waiting, then?"

Stranger: "You certainly like to take your time," he teased. "I almost thought you'd changed your mind." Sherlock reached into his pocket for a fresh cigarette, offering one to John. "Which you still could do, if I really make you so uncomfortable."

You: Taking the cigarette, John placed it between his lips and pulled his own lighter from his pocket, lighting it carefully before taking a long drag. "The people in there love me. Taking up all of my time." After another puff, John grinned as he looked to Sherlock. "There's a difference between being uncomfortable around you and flirting with another man in a packed restaurant," he countered.

Stranger: Sherlock took a step closer, letting out a long breath of smoke. "What's the matter?" He raised an eyebrow. He lifted a hand, brushing John's sandy hair from his forehead. "Can't handle a little danger?"

You: John flicked the ashes to the ground, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's. "Danger is," he murmured, smirking as he let Sherlock do what he wanted with him, "currently not worth losing my job. However, now we're pretty much alone, 'cept for the cars that keep passing by, and I want a ride on your bike."

Stranger: "Hm. Demanding, aren't we?" Sherlock trailed his fingers down John's face. "But of course, I'm happy to oblige." He moved to John's side, his arm sliding around the smaller boy's shoulders. "Where d'you wanna go?"

You: "Wherever you wanna take me, Daddy-o," John responded easily, taking another long drag of the cigarette, his arm wrapping around the boy's tiny waist. "Take me to the movies, perhaps," he murmured with a smirk. "Friday night. I don't gotta be nowheres tonight."

Stranger: Sherlock turned his head, his lips pressed against John's ear. "Movies," he scoffed, "You're so predictable. Why don't we go someplace more interesting? Someplace where we don't have to worry about nobody else?"

You: John closed his eyes, humming at the thrilling sensation. "And just what," he murmured, arching his neck for more kisses, "would you suggest?"

Stranger: Holding him a little tighter, Sherlock teasingly turned his head away again, taking another slow drag. "There's always my place," he muttered, "Or yours..."

You: "I've got parents," he sighed, rolling his eyes as he took another hit as well, flicking the ashes once more. "No matter, I have practice at eight thirty tomorrow, and my parents will want me home sometime."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, dropping his cigarette to the ground, grinding it in with the toe of his shoe. "That can be arranged. Now, come on," he took John by the hand, tugging at him a little. "You said you wanted a ride, didn't you?"

You: John finished off his cigarette before following Sherlock's lead. "Hm, indeed I do," he responded, raising his eyebrow before grinning. "And perhaps I'll give you one later." With a slight shrug, John headed towards the parking lot, tugging the boy behind him.

Stranger has disconnected.

[liz-roleplays]

Deaf!Lock

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like aulock, and johnlock.

Stranger: (Deaf!Sherlock and Interpreter!John) I really do insist that you stop 'paraphrasing' my deductions to the police. If I want to call Donovan a short-sighted moron, it rather defeats the purpose if she never hears it. SH

You: Call her that yourself then. I'm not insulting someone that I barely know, Sherlock. JW

You: What's the point of saying that besides to insult her? JW

Stranger: Perhaps if she hears it enough, she'll see how foolish she's being. And if I try and say it out loud, she pretends she can't understand my "deaf accent". It's humiliating. SH

You: The only thing humiliating about your accent is the idiotic stigma that goes with it, and you know that. JW All it would do is get everyone riled up and lose focus on the investigation. JW

Stranger: They think I've gotten all /nice/ since you've been around. SH

Stranger: Except Lestrade. He's picked up enough BSL to know at least a little of what I'm saying. SH

You: And it /is/ such a terrible thing to be nice, isn't it? JW

You: If Lestrade wants to start a war on his team, he's more than capable of doing it. JW

Stranger: I didn't get to be where I am by being nice, John. SH

You: No, you did it with your incredible brain. Not a sharp tongue that cuts everyone up. JW

Stranger: It took me a very long time to be taken seriously! The redheaded officer with the two cats still yells at me as if she could force me to hear her. I would very much like to call her an idiot without having to keep a notebook around my neck. SH

You: Why are you embarrassed, Sherlock? By your accent? JW

You: Granted I've never heard it, but believe me when I say that I've heard all sorts. And none of them are silly or idiotic. JW

Stranger: Tell that to most hearing people. I'm not embarrassed by my accent, John. I can just do without the look of pity everyone gets when they hear it and realize I'm deaf. SH

You: [Delayed] Fine. JW

Stranger: Thank you. SH

Stranger: Besides, they know the words are coming from me, not you. They aren't in the habit of blaming the messenger if I'm rude. SH

You: I know, Sherlock. It's never been why I've done it. JW

Stranger: Why, then? SH

You: Perhaps so I can bite my own tongue. JW

Stranger: (Delay) I'm sorry... perhaps I don't follow you. SH

You: You know me. I'm just a bit hotheaded. Stubborn. Comes from my mum's side. JW

You: And I dislike it when people insult my friends. JW

Stranger: So... if I take your meaning. It's less about censoring me, and more about resisting the temptation to embellish further. SH

Stranger: One day, you will cease to surprise me, John Watson. But not today. SH

You: And I hope that day will never come. JW

You: So I am to stop censoring your deductions, then. JW

Stranger: I would consider it a personal favor if you did. SH

You: Alright then. JW

You: Still at Bart's? JW

Stranger: Almost done. Molly has a lovely set of livers she's letting me bring home. SH

You: Well, I suppose I'll make room in the freezer then. JW

Stranger: Thank you. SH (Ten Minutes Later) Sherlock came up the steps, bag of body parts in hand and turned the corner into the kitchen. Once he'd put the livers away, he found John and signed. 'Do you want to eat?'

You: John looked over from his chair, easily responding, before looking back down at his laptop, fingers plucking as he worked on his blog. 'Already called in Thai. Got the usual'.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, and flopped into his chair. He sighed heavily. After several minutes of silence, he tapped John on the shoulder. His fingers moved faster than usual, 'Thank you. For all your help. Nobody has ever bothered defending me before.'

You: His brows furrowed at that, letting his laptop rest on the floor. 'Then every interpreter you've ever had has been an idiot. Or simply an arse. Both would probably be best'. John grinned, before shrugging lightly. 'You're my friend. Of course I would defend you.'

Stranger: Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'Of course, nobody has ever bothered questioning me before, either. So perhaps that habit balances out.' He signed with a smile, the one he reserved for John alone.

You: His own lips curled up, a half smirk more than anything as he nodded. 'That it does, Sherlock.' The grin changed Sherlock. It morphed him from the stoic arse to something... warm. That grin, the one that only he got to see, would always warm John from the inside out, spreading pleasure throughout his body. 'Plans for the night?'

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head again. 'The liver experiment will have to wait until tomorrow.' He glanced at his violin. "Might compose." Feeling the music's vibrations through his bow was a skill he'd learned when he was six, after hearing about Beethoven's later years. He had been disappointed at the time how easy it was to learn. He turned back to his flatmate-cum-interpreter. 'What about you? Date tonight?'

You: John scoffed and shook his head. 'Hardly. Feels like I never get out anymore.' He picked back up the laptop, letting it rest on his lap. 'Please, play away, by all means. I'll get you when the food gets here.'

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged and picked up his instrument, tuning his fingers by playing scales as he always did. After a while, it was easy to get lost in the meditative sway of the motions.It was the closest he could ever come to turning off his brain-- one of the few things that calmed him, and even that might not be enough. It had only been twenty-four hours since his last decent case, and already he could feel the pull of a nicotine craving. John would be furious, of course...

You: (brb!)

Stranger: ((ok!))

You: Two fingers plucking at his keyboard, John finished up the blog entry as Sherlock began to play. Once he was done, however, he left it open and simply watched Sherlock. There was such an elegance in his movements, something that was purely enticing. The music was beautiful, heart wrenching. John watched freely, Sherlock's attention on something out the window. Good enough. It gave John all the more time to simply watch. The knocking at the door made him jump, snapping him out of his relaxed state. Right. Food. John got up, eyes lingering before leaving the room.

Stranger: By the time John came back up with his Pat Thai, Sherlock set his violin down again, and moved to join him in the kitchen. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, thinking about what John had said earlier, about his accent. When he was handed the takeout container meant for him, he took a deep breath. "Tth-aank you, Jaaawn." He spoke, turning away quickly.

You: He hummed quietly as he prepared their food, setting it out before getting two glasses, filling each with water, and then grabbed a beer for himself. Tucked into his chair comfortably, he began to eat, startled by a voice. Instantly he looked up and grinned widely, a softness to his eyes that he had never expressed before. Reaching out, touching Sherlock's hand lightly to get his attention, he signed, 'Of course. Someone has to make sure you eat.'

Stranger: He knew, in his heart, that it wasn't something he would do a lot. Even, with John who (outside of his immediate family, and one or two ill-advised times with the Yarders) was the only person in his life who'd ever heard his voice. Still, it made John smile and that was enough for Sherlock. John was the only one who didn't think he was a freak-- Even those who could get past the whole deaf thing were usually put off by his deductions. So, if it made his friend happy, he could do that. He could trust John with his words. "Boring." He had a feeling he might have been drawing out the 'o' sound a bit too long. Vowels were tricky that way.

You: Another large grin. The deep baritone voice sent chills down his spine, goosebumps rising from the sound. /And while it may be to you, it's still essential for your health./ He grinned, taking a large bite of his food before drinking a sip of his beer.

Stranger: 'Yes, Doctor,' He signed, feeling as though he'd given his voice enough of a workout for one day. Sherlock curled up into his chair and tucked into the takeaway. He smiled as he ate, but didn't say anything more. He probably ought to examine a bit more closely why John's smile made his stomach twist like that.

You: They ate dinner in a comfortable silence. When he finished, he sat back and drank his beer slowly, waiting for Sherlock to finish as well.

Stranger: ((Ack! I have to go, but thank you for RP'ing with me! :D ))

Stranger has disconnected.