#coatandscarf

[demonicsymphony]

Well, I would bump the pic of me in the shirt for @coatandscarf but the stupid search function seems to be busted right now, wtf tumblr mobile. HA. I FOUND THE LINK So just have an ugly link to it since tumblr mobile won't let me rebagle http://demonicsymphony.tumblr.com/post/135323585015/threepatchpodcast-got-my-shirt-off-to-rock-it-at

[ivanmandujano7]

Wandering in the winter light... #attitude #yeah #happytuesday #beautifulday #coatandscarf #winterdays #fasion #guystyle #greatday #happy #instamoment #winter #handsome #cuteguy #guy

[the-detectives-blogger]

Sherlock overhears "I'd totally hit that" and scoffs. "I do not doubt it, considering your need for adrenaline."

(I am so delighted that you put this in my inbox :D) 

John sputters over his tea. “Erm - I - you weren’t supposed to hear that,” he stammers, trying to stand up nad tripping over his own feet. 

[punwolf]

(This is pupsnbacon) The Personality thing is a hoax and installs something into your tumblr. I just reblogged on this one how to remove it.

Thanks!  I thought as much when it wanted me to install extra software or do a survey to "get your results."  I'll uninstall the Tumblr bit as well.  I'm going to answer this publicly so other people know, too.  A couple of our mutual friends were the ones who I did it from.  (Hope you don't mind.)

[the-detectives-blogger]

"Don’t look at me like that."

John’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then don’t take stuff off Lestrade’s desk,” he hissed, glancing nervously at the door. “I don’t /care/ if he hasn’t given you a case in a week, you can’t just steal people’s paperweights!” 

[sherlockianh]

A Lost Feather

Shoot shoot shoot shoot. My wifi cut out on you coat. Boo. Such a lovely RP, though. I enjoyed it. 

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

You both like whynotrpwithme, Winglock, omegalock, and coatandscarf.

Stranger: ((I'm coat!))

You: ((....no way.))

Stranger: (Yep! Is this why?)

You: ((Sadly, no))

Stranger: ((Hello nonetheless! lol))

You: ((Dis is sherlockianh/ themanwiththescarf haha))

Stranger: ((*laughs* Yay, fellow scarfian! :P Have we played before? I'll admit the name is unfamiliar, but my memory blows.))

You: ((Sadly not, which is why I'm fangirling over here haha))

Stranger: ((Oh God, no need! Color me flattered though! ;D So what's your preferences to play with?))

Stranger: ((Still there?))

You: ((I'm such an easy player. I don't have any, really.))

You: ((Sorry, had to check on my baby bro. He just went to bed and is just going through potty training so I'm going to be in and out, sadly.__

You: **))

Stranger: ((Ah okay, no problem! I'm just nervous 'cause omegle DCed my RP yesterday, so yeah.))

Stranger: ((Got a prompt? Or wanna use one of mine?))

You: ((I have an omegalock one, though it's fairly old.))

Stranger: ((I'm willing to give it a shot. I think all of mine are old lol))

You: ((Haha, alright. Pretty crappy, though. Let me know if you don't like it.))

You: Sherlock took a deep breath as he approached the clinic, cradling a small 15-month old boy to his chest. The toddler was currently resting, rather than the sobbing and wailing he had started to do over the past few weeks. His heart beat much to quickly for his liking, and his hand lingered for much to long on the handle as he open the door and walked inside. The last three years had not been kind to him--he had far to many scars now, and aged lines made his face look older than he was. There was a bit of stubble gathered on his face, and his hair would have been streaked grey, had it not been died a chestnut-colored brown. He had deemed it safe to return, tracking Moran's trail until he reached the United States. He hadn't followed him any farther, returning home. Hamish had started showing symptoms of illness a few days afterwords, crying and constantly complaining in his small-vocabulary like way. That was when the detective mustered the courage to come, completely lost as to what to do. He gently rubbed the boy's back, hoping to keep him asleep, and glancing up as his name was called.

Stranger: ((Post-Reichenbach? I'll be honest, I'm not huge on kidlock. I'll play it, but I have to be in the mood for it.))

You: ((Yeah. We can change it if you'd like, have Sherl like pregnant or something or just really injured, I guess it just adds more angst))

Stranger: ((Man. Uh, if you'd like to? Again, being honest, I'd probably prefer a straight winglock. I always feel a bit awkward in the Alpha role when I'm not explicitly looking for it.))

You: ((Okie doki! I used to have a winglock prompt, dunno if I do anymore.))

Stranger: ((I got a fairly straightforward one. You prefer Sherlock, then?))

You: ((I'm better at him, though I can play John.))

Stranger: ((Sounds like a plan! Lemme know if you don't like it.))

You: ((Ok ;) ))

Stranger: Sherlock? We need to talk. Not over text. JW

You: John, I'm on a case. SH

Stranger: Without me? An experiment, more like. You're at Barts, aren't you? JW

You: Does it matter? SH

You: Where I am is irrelevant. I'm busy. SH

Stranger: Look, I found something this morning that I don't think you wanted me to find. JW

You: And what exactly is that. John? SH

Stranger: I don't know if it's safe to say over text. JW

You: Is that so? SH

Stranger: Considering that if I'm right, you were keeping it a secret for a reason. And considering how things stand with... that particular secret... JW

You: I'm sure it can wait, John. I haven't anything to hide. SH

Stranger: Then who does this object belong to? JW

You: Object? SH

Stranger: Fine. It's a feather, Sherlock. A long black feather. JW

You: [no reply]

Stranger: Sherlock, please, come home. We really need to talk. JW

You: Fine. I'm on my way. SH

Stranger: Thank you. JW

You: Nearly twenty minutes later, Sherlock was pausing outside the door to the flat. His wings twitched unsurely beneath his coat, struggling against the harness that kept them pinned. He closed his eyes briefly, keeping himself calm before climbing the stairs. He was always careful. He always made sure....how he had missed one? He could lie. Tell John he was purchasing a bird. Or that it was for a case. He was investigating a missing bird. Hell, he done it for a rabbit, why not a bird? There. He'd do that. Perfect. He pushed open the door, sighing softly. "John, I can explain...."

Stranger: The windows were shut, the curtains drawn, and standing in the middle of the flat was a shirtless John Watson. His posture had been uncertain, almost shy, but as Sherlock stepped in he found himself straightening up in a loose adaptation of a proper military stance. "Do you see why we had to talk?" For it was more than just the shirtlessness that was very different about this situation. It was the solitary tawny and grey colored wing that extended beyond his right shoulder.

You: Sherlock stared in shock at the other man for his moment, instantly taking in his form, the wing, much like his own, extending behind him. He swallowed, his own wings struggling even more, shifting his coat and shirt. He began tugging his coat and shirt off in a hurry, not caring if it tore or if the buttons came off (they could be sewn, replaced), getting out of his harness, spreading his own wings behind himself. "I had no idea..." he murmured, frowning and reaching out to gently stroke the tawny feathers. "Have you always been like this?"

Stranger: At least the door was shut before Sherlock began to remove his clothing, revealing his own wings. John had seen wings before, but never that shade. Of course Sherlock's wings would be as interesting as the man himself was. "No. The cane wasn't just for a psychosomatic limp. I had to learn how to regain my balance." Turning around reluctantly, he revealed the massive scars on the left shoulder. One from the bullet wound, the other from the removal of the left wing at the base.

You: Sherlock's wings gave an unsure flutter as the man turned around, revealing the cut wedged and massive scar. He gently traced his fingers over it, his frown deepening. "You were born like this, then," he deduced, sighing softly and pulling away, pacing the living room with his wings shifting and moving behind himself. He stroked at them absently, thinking. "Interesting," he said eventually. "So your sister as well? Or was she the odd one out, hence fueling her drinking habits and increasing a reason for her not to see you?"

Stranger: John settled his wing back behind him, turning around to face him. "Hers didn't grow properly. My parents had them removed at a young age. They figured one Watson should be able to make it."

You: Sherlock nodded, resting his finger tips against his lips as he settled against the couch. "Of course," he murmured. "It's always something...." He licked his lips. "Are there more like you? Like your family?"

Stranger: He watched Sherlock as he moved to sit, nodding. "I was part of a special task force. There's a few like me. Well, us, I suppose."

You: Sherlock shook his head quietly. "Like you. I wasn't born like this." He said quietly, glancing up at John before closing his eyes, stretching out his wings.

Stranger: John looked startled at the admission. "You weren't? I... I didn't think one could transplant wings. They made it very clear it wasn't an option for me."

You: Sherlock didn't answer for a very long time, thinking quietly. "They weren't transplanted either, John. At least...I don't believe so. I don't truly remember what happened at the lab."

Stranger: "'Lab'?" John questioned, moving to sit at the table, turning the chair to face Sherlock properly, draping his wing over the back of it.

You: "That's what I called it. I'm not exactly sure what it was," he said gently. He gave an empty, bitter laugh. "There's a reason I don't go to the clinic."

Stranger: If he'd had wings forced upon him, John couldn't blame him. "Tell me? You don't have to, if you don't want to."

You: "Does it matter?" he asked softly. "I don't even know who my true parents are, John." He said quietly. "Mummy and Father found me when the place burnt down."

Stranger: John's expression fell for a moment, although he regained his composure quickly. "Mycroft can't help you?"

You: "He wont or he cant," he said softly. "I simply assumed all the records burnt down, and I wont sit still for a blood test. I refuse to have one done."

Stranger: "Do you want me to help? I could. I... like to think you trust me. You don't have to, of course. I just... well."

You: Sherlock closed his eyes. "John..." he said softly, he glanced away. "My apologies."

Stranger: John gave him a faint smile, understanding more than Sherlock thought he would. "Don't worry, I understand. Have you considered removing them?"

You: He lied down on his side, facing away from the other man. "I don't wish to." He said quietly. "They're apart of me." He scrubbed his face and stood. "I believe....I believe I'm going to go to bed."

Stranger: He was such an idiot. "Yes, of course. Sherlock? Just... know you can trust me, alright? I won't ever do anything to hurt you."

You: Sherlock paused, turning slightly, just enough so that he was visible he was listening. There was a long empty silence before he answered. "Of course, John." He said quietly, shutting the door to his room as he left.

Stranger: John's wing fell, reacting despondently where John's posture didn't. Sighing, he remained still for a time before rising and moving into the kitchen to make himself some tea. Hopefully he hadn't utterly wrecked things.

You: Sherlock didn't come up until late in the night, nearly eleven thirty, his wings once again bound tight again his chest, standing at the window as he wrote angrily, composing and struggling to get the notes right, muttering to himself quietly.

You: ((brb))

Stranger: Yawning, John padded his way down the steps, wearing just a pair of pyjama trousers. As he stepped into the sitting room to chastise Sherlock for waking him, he visibly hesitated in the doorway as he took in the sight of the once more 'wingless' Sherlock. Maybe he should do the same. It didn't feel right, walking in on him like this.

You: Sherlock kicked over the stand in frustration grabbing at his curls and sinking down into a squat and grabbing at his head, eyes shut tight. He whispered to himself, even a few tears dropping to his cheeks. After a moment, after the barely visible shaking stopped, he stood. A deep blush crept up his cheeks when he saw John, ducking away in shame. "My apologies." he muttered. "I tripped, after getting a glass of water. I was just returning to bed."

Stranger: John was silent for a good long while, watching Sherlock and feeling his own heart break for the other man. Moving towards him, he made his movements slow so that the other man could back out at any time, but carefully drew him downwards to hug him tightly.

You: Sherlock was tense for a moment, body going completely rigid as he felt the other man's arms wrap around him. He had been about to question what he was doing, but it seemed obvious. He slowly, awkwardly returned the hug, backing away after a moment. The man cleared his throat, licking his lips. "What was that for?"

Stranger: After a moment, John's wing curled around him as well, about as intimate a gesture as he'd ever made. But when Sherlock wished to pull away, John let him. "...You looked like you needed it," he said simply, feeling more than a little awkward in admitting it.

You: Sherlock nodded quietly, running an unsure hand through his hair. "Thank you," he said softly, pulling away and turning to head to his room, wing accidentally brushing against the other man's as he left, the door shutting behind him.

Stranger: John shivered as Sherlock's wing brushed against his own, but he bit his bottom lip and said nothing. The man had no idea what he just did, and John wasn't about to clue him in to it. Instead, he made his way back upstairs to his room.

You: Sherlock didn't come out into late in the afternoon, wings stretching out as he lumbered into the kitchen, eyes deep with bags from a sleepless night. He sighed as began to silently prepare himself tea, tapping absently on his phone as he did so.

Stranger: This time, John was nowhere to be found, seeing as he was on shift at the clinic since early in the morning.

You: Sherlock sighed and paced the flat absently, feeling restless and unsure. His wings twitched and flapped, letting anything close to him know just miserably he was. Finally, he got up the nerve to text the man.  Where are you? SH

Stranger: Clinic, finishing up some paperwork before heading off. JW

You: You'll be home soon, then? SH

Stranger: Should be, barring any emergencies. JW

You: Good. SH

Stranger: Need anything from Tesco's? JW

You: No, not at the moment. SH

You: Milk, maybe. SH

Stranger: Alright. I'll be home around 4. JW

You: That late? SH

Stranger: It's already 2, Sherlock. JW

You: Thats two hours. SH

Stranger: I'll try and hurry, since that's unacceptable. JW

You: It is. SH

Stranger: Right. See you as soon as I wrap up here, then. JW

You: Fine. SH

Stranger: An hour later, John came up the steps towards the shared portion of their flat. He didn't go to Tesco's, since it didn't seem the milk situation was dire.

My wifi cut out and stopped working. 

[demonicsymphony]

coatandscarf replied to your post: This amused me.

Maybe they got shy? I feel bad when I run into those people. I don’t bite, I swear! I want to shake them when they DC and shout “RP WITH ME!!!”

Yeah, I was just like: "Wait! Where did you go!? Why did you run!?"

[the-detectives-blogger]

✿ Although, honestly John, there are much better ways to go about such things.

Really, Sherlock? And what would those be?