#oriondrasen

[limitless-muse]

“….are you asking me to crawl in there just because i’m short?” Orion asked Sherlock while staring at the place Sherlock was asking him to crawl into.

@real-scienceofdeduction

[limitless-muse]

What’s a pretty boy like you doing with another pretty boy like Sherlock? -??

I have no need to answer such a question to someone who’s number I do not recognize. -OD

[limitless-muse]

“Ow! That fecking hurt!” -Jim

“If you did not fidget, I would not have stabbed you,” Orion said from behind Jim, holding the pin that had stabbed him.

He more delicately slipped the pin through the fabric, not stabbing Jim this time or the next few times as more pins slipped through the fabric until finally he was done.

“Done. Now, to take it all off.” He blushed a little at that, but walked around Jim to help him take off the mock suit that was Jim’s measurements and frame. It wouldn’t do for him to get stabbed by all of the pins by trying to take it off himself.

Once, it was off, Jim was only in his underwear, so Orion handed him a robe with eyes averted and blush bright red.

@villain-to-sherlocks-fairytale

[limitless-muse]

Attack (Open)

Orion was closing up for the night, starting in the back where he was like usual. Then when he was about to head into the storefront, he heard the front door open. With a sigh, dreading dealing with a last-minute customer, he opened the door and found no one. He glanced around, easily able to deal with seeing into the dark corners, and only saw the person when they were coming up on him from the right with a bat.

Orion managed to evade it, but it put his back to the front door which opened again this time with several sets of footsteps coming in. He was surrounded by five people. Then it became a blur of fists, handheld objects, and feet. Orion even used his own merchandise as tools against his attackers. But sadly the numbers were against him.

He ended up on the floor near his workroom door with lacerations, bruises, a deep gash that needed stitches, most likely a concussion, and a bruised or broken leg.

Then the assailants lit the far corner on fire with a lead of accelerant all the way past the front door to the next corner. After that, they left with parting words about how he was a freak and other similar adjectives.

Now he was trapped in a burning building with a possibly broken leg, and his phone was in his workroom while the store phone was back there as well as on the counter too far from him.

He toppled over the display next to him and started to break it so he’d have strips of wood, then he ripped his shirt. He then splinted his leg, biting his tie so he didn’t hurt himself more. Then, he started to make his way to the back room door. The heat from the flames starting to get to him by the time he dragged himself there and managed to get in.

Thankfully, the door had a passcode that they didn’t try too hard to crack. He was safe for the moment to rest before trying for a phone.

[limitless-muse]

Sherlock had been out all day, or perhaps a couple, he’d lost track of time when he comes running into Orion’s shop, looking around for the other man, looking more than a little frantic. 

Judging from the facial hair it had been more than a couple days since he last shaved and his clothes were the same from the last time he’d seen the other man. It was clear he hadn’t been doing anything to even keep himself alive in the time he’d been gone, however long it was. 

His eyes light up at they fall on Orion, smile appearing, a little crooked but it was there. “There you are.” He says, rushing over and kissing the other man, hands going to the sides of the others head as he does before pulling back and looking around. 

“There are somethings I need, I was wondering if you could help me.” His words were quick and he couldn’t stay still, moving around the room, looking. “I need parts, lots of parts, don’t ask why. I’m not so sure I know.” He admits, “Then again I’m not too sure what I need either.” A shrug, “I’ll figure that out later.”

————————-

Jim had made a call to him yesterday asking if he had seen or heard from Sherlock - he hadn’t - and if he did then he was to contact him immediately.

This made him fret, so he occupied himself with cleaning the past two days. Yesterday, he did the back room. Today, he was in the front of the store.

He turned and had just opened his mouth to give out a greeting when he heard the bell on the front door, only to freeze in wide eyed shock.

“S-Sherlock…” His voice croaked a little as the rag fell from his fingers in surprise at the other man’s appearance.

His hands rose and rested on Sherlock’s chest as he was kissed, eyes fluttering shut on instinct as his face was craddled. They were open as soon as Sherlock pulled away though.

“Sherlock. Sherlock, love.” He said, moving and putting himself in front of Sherlock, his hands going and gently resting on Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Hi, love. Of course, I’ll help you. Always. Is it time sensitive?” He ran his hands up and down Sherlock’s upper arms gently, before trailing them down to Sherlock’s hands and taking a hold of them.

Then he led Sherlock to the back of his shop. “It’s been a while, Sher, I’ve missed you.”

[limitless-muse]

Merry Birthday!

There were two special occasions coming up soon: Christmas and Sherlock’s birthday. And Orion had no idea what to get for him for either occasion. Sherlock wasn’t a big material person, he loved his cases and experiments, he was fond of music and his violin, and he liked Orion.

He did acquire some sheet music for Sherlock that was solo violin and duet violin and piano, but he felt like it wasn’t enough. Then he remembered a conversation with Sherlock months ago where he said, “It was like Christmas and my birthday combined.” in reference to cases. But what he could he do about that? It’s not like he could do anything about that... could he?

It’s not like he had access to dead bodies that didn’t go through the police database and it’s not like he didn’t know how to work them to make it look like a crime. Oh lord, he was thinking of making fake crimes for Sherlock to solve.

Well, it’s not like he hasn’t done worse in his life.

But Sherlock liked serial murderers a bit better than the one-timers. There was ‘more to the chase’. And since there were twelve days of Christmas, why not twelve bodies over twelve days?

Seemed probable. Also, he could do this with John Does or those who dedicate their bodies to science (some families typically wanted a service before shipping them off to the designated center or they wanted them to be presentable for said center) which would toe the line just enough to make this work.

Orion smiled and went to planning. He had to start this by next week after all.

@real-scienceofdeduction

[limitless-muse]

Make your Muse

Tagged by @villain-to-sherlocks-fairytale​

Tagging @real-scienceofdeduction​ @frosthawkfantasy​ @disgracedengineer​

[limitless-muse]

Late at Night

Jim and Sherlock were sleeping in his bedroom, actually at his place for once. Orion couldn't sleep so he had snuck away into his living room to read until he could fall asleep then join them again. He sat in the window nook - almost a bay window with a bench that could fit two comfortably and a light on each side for depending on how you were sitting and a tiny fan - with a book for a little while before abandoning it.

He found himself instead doing something he did rarely, maybe once every three or four months: smoking a cigarette. He had his tiny fan on to blow any risidual smoke outside the window he had cracked open which let in a nice little cold breeze.

He had started smoking when he was a teen in the care of a church bishop. The Father had taught him to read and was the originator of his like for a good smoke. The Father always rolled his own and had taught Orion how along with the different types of leaves and filters. The Father liked strong spicy flavors and Orion liked smooth delicate flavors. They had debates over it. Until he was made to move again.

So, he sat smoking and looking out the window. He had turned off the light he had been using so his only light was the mostly full moon. His simple and usually hidden ashtray was resting on one knee while he rested his arm on the other one that was bent and raised up. The picture of relaxation.

@villain-to-sherlocks-fairytale