The Gentleman.

Interests: Lust, leather, and Louboutins. Profession: Misbehaving and making my way in the world. Call me: The Gentleman. Or Ian Adler, but only if you ask nicely.

[tigersdayoff-blog]

Jane isn’t the only one who got a hair cut.

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Now there's the old Pussycat I know and love. Dare I say, rawrrrrr. -A

[thedynamicasteroid-archived-blog]

Been a long day…

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Looking especially devourable this evening, James, if I may be so bold. You know, the offer still stands if you ever want to pop 'round for my signature sort of sharp-edged nightcap in Belgravia. -A

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

Came back early, concerned for your safety. Just passed Adler on the stairs on his way out. Jane…? -SH

[janehamishwatson-blog]

I’m fine, Sherlock. This is the last time I trust amateurs to do my hair. Ginger this time. Ginger! 

Sherlock! What are you doing?! 

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

I needed a sample of your hair, Jane. For science. Don’t fuss. -SH

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Oi! I am not an amateur, my little chickadees. Jane, you're a fabulous ginge and don't let anyone -- especially tall, cantankerous consulting tarts with overdeveloped senses of superiority -- tell you otherwise. Ta, Pet! -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Send help!

So, Adler’s here—said we’d scheduled a (and I’m quoting here folks) “Girls’ Night”. I don’t actually remember agreeing to this little event. But according to Adler it was my idea. I assume that either alcohol or Sherlock were involved in me making this decision. Possibly both. As is the case with most of my spectacularly ill-advised decisions these days. Sherlock isn’t actually here at the moment to confirm or deny this. 

-JW 

P.S. If you don’t hear from me in the next few hours—send the Yard. 

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Oh, Pet, we're going to have such fun! -A

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

janehamishwatson replied to your post: So, *ahem* Ian… you mentioned something about fixing my hair up since Sherlock ruined it? -Jane

It’s a date, then. Perhaps next Wednesday? Think I’ve got the day off from the clinic. -JW

A date with a girl who could just as soon break my arm as set the bone. How could any self-respecting gentleman say no? -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Well...

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Now there’s a pair of bedroom eyes and that’s a fact. Of course, I would have been more careful with you, Love. Just because one needs to whip one’s horse into a gallop doesn’t mean one has to leave marks on the flanks. Sloppy work, there. Don’t worry Seb dear, I’ll kiss it better. -A

[tigersdayoff-blog]

Oh really? SM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Well. I hear a kick in the teeth is good for some, but a kiss with a fist is better than none. -A

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

So, *ahem* Ian... you mentioned something about fixing my hair up since Sherlock ruined it? -Jane

Oh Pet, of course! How splendid. And won't it just drive Sherlock 'round the twist when she sees us being a pair of proper girls together. Shall I come by next week sometime? We can commandeer her chemistry kit to mix up the colour. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Well...

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

*Cracks knuckles, grins wolfishly, etc.* -A

[tigersdayoff-blog]

That wasn’t an invitation, Ian. SM

Want to bet on that, do you, Love? I do so enjoy a gambling man. Also I think I know a cry for help from the amateurs when I hear one. -A

Hardly a cry, doll. I think you’ll find I’m quite capable. SM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Now there's a pair of bedroom eyes and that's a fact. Of course, I would have been more careful with you, Love. Just because one needs to whip one's horse into a gallop doesn't mean one has to leave marks on the flanks. Sloppy work, there. Don't worry Seb dear, I'll kiss it better. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Well...

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Well that escalated quickly. Where in the bloody hell have I been and why wasn’t I invited? -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

O.o -JW 

[tigersdayoff-blog]

Jane, look away. SM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

*Cracks knuckles, grins wolfishly, etc.* -A

[tigersdayoff-blog]

That wasn’t an invitation, Ian. SM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Want to bet on that, do you, Love? I do so enjoy a gambling man. Also I think I know a cry for help from the amateurs when I hear one. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Well...

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Well that escalated quickly. Where in the bloody hell have I been and why wasn’t I invited? -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

O.o -JW 

[tigersdayoff-blog]

Jane, look away. SM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

*Cracks knuckles, grins wolfishly, etc.* -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Well...

[thedynamicasteroid-archived-blog]

Touch it and I’ll ssssskin you. I like it. -JM

[tigersdayoff-blog]

Already touched it, boss. Guess that leaves you with one option~

[thedynamicasteroid-archived-blog]

Strip and lay down on the bed. I’ll be in there in a moment. Have to grab some things…. -JM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Well that escalated quickly. Where in the bloody hell have I been and why wasn't I invited? -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Well...

[tigersdayoff-blog]

As much as I like your handy work, my hair is a little out of control right now. SM

[thedynamicasteroid-archived-blog]

Touch it and I’ll ssssskin you. I like it. -JM

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Wow, you two are just so… domestic. That’s kind of frightening. Which, considering who I’m talking about, is kind of impressive. -JW

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

If by “domestic” you mean “severely unhinged”, then yes, I do believe you’ve hit it on the head, Jane. -SH

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Oh Seb darling, what have you been up to you bad man? Am I going to have to fix both you and Jane up now? Are spectacularly poor hair decisions part and parcel of some sort of Army bonding thing that I've not been privy to? -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Oi, stop ganging up on me, you three! Cheeky monkeys. I’ve got more class in my little finger than the lot of you put together and could make the lot of you beg using just the finger in question, so don’t you start with me. -A

[thedynamicasteroid-archived-blog]

My, my. Someone’s a little feisty today. Clients not enough of a release for you, Ian dear? -JM

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Is that an invitation, Darling? I'm all booked up for dinner but I suppose I could always schedule you in for dessert. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Seb’s been doodling again. A surprisingly accurate depiction of my life. 

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

This isn’t a terribly anatomically correct rendering, Jane. Moran may wish to reconsider his understanding of proportion and depth. Also my nose doesn’t look like that. Does it? -SH

[janehamishwatson-blog]

It’s a cartoon, Sherlock. And yes, if you were a cartoon, that is how your nose would look. -JW 

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Precious. I could just eat you two up. Or tie you two up. Or both. Decisions, decisions. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

No. -JW 

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

If I were a cartoon I’d be two-dimensional and would therefore have no internal organs, musculoskeletal structure, or central nervous system, let alone the capacity to think or reason or deduce.  I have a feeling the appearance of my nose would be the least of my problems. What utter nonsense.

Also, Ian: no. -SH

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Jane dear, when will you learn to take a little joke from yours truly? I'm only winding you up, Pet. Well, mostly only winding you up. You birds know who to call if either of you ever change your minds about wanting to learn how to escape from restraints for, ah, purposes of The Work.

Also Sherlock, do try and be a little less literal sometimes, eh Love? There's a good girl.  Kisses! -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Yet another of Seb’s lovely little doodles. Can you guess who this is?

Cheers! -JW 

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

You’ve made me look like a Soho rent boy, Seb darling. -A

[tigersdayoff-blog]

Are you implying that you’re not a Soho rent boy? SM

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

Moran has a point, Ian. And yes, Jane, feel free to take snapshots and open that bottle of ‘89 Taittinger we were saving for a special occasion, for I have indeed agreed with Moran on something. -SH

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Oi, stop ganging up on me, you three! Cheeky monkeys. I've got more class in my little finger than the lot of you put together and could make the lot of you beg using just the finger in question, so don't you start with me. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Yet another of Seb’s lovely little doodles. Can you guess who this is?

Cheers! -JW 

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

You've made me look like a Soho rent boy, Seb darling. -A

[janehamishwatson-blog]

Seb’s been doodling again. A surprisingly accurate depiction of my life. 

[sigersonsays-deactivated2014041]

This isn’t a terribly anatomically correct rendering, Jane. Moran may wish to reconsider his understanding of proportion and depth. Also my nose doesn’t look like that. Does it? -SH

[janehamishwatson-blog]

It’s a cartoon, Sherlock. And yes, if you were a cartoon, that is how your nose would look. -JW 

[notyourwhippingboy-blog]

Precious. I could just eat you two up. Or tie you two up. Or both. Decisions, decisions. -A