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sherlock-perpetually-bored replied to your post “„¢”
I think you're brilliant. And you're missed.
AAah thank you love
I owe you a couple of threads, don't I?
™
Send me a ™ if you think I could be a writer for my muse’s canon dialogue
OoC:
Thank you kindly love. <3
It means a lot to know you think so highly of me aah
+ 3 came to see the army doctor
meetfemlock
ask—smauglock
sherlock-perpetually-bored
"You hacked my computer again, didn’t you…"
○
Send me a " ○ " for my character's reaction to finding yours sitting outside in the rain, upset and crying
Jim went for walks in the rain sometimes. Usually these took place at unholy hours when any decent, sane man would be sound asleep, dead to the troubles of the world.
Of course, Jim Moriarty was neither decent nor sane.
He enjoyed the feeling of rain, the water that fell from above and chilled the world, cleansed it of all its human impurities.
Jim rarely encountered others on his midnight walks, but tonight was one of those rare occasions, it seemed.
As he wandered through the paths of St. James' Park, a familiar figure sitting slumped over in a park bench caught his eye.
The detective was very far from his usual haunts.
Walking up to Sherlock as quietly as possible, Jim noticed that the other man was trembling, visibly upset.
"Oh, Sherly. Who's gone about breaking your heart?"
Allow me to destory them.
The continuation went unsaid, but was present nonetheless.
So why is your chewing gum so expensive? It tastes just like ordinary chewing gum.
"It's only made by a shop in Switzerland, and they make three batches a year. I buy out the majority of the stock when I can, it holds the mint flavour longer than any other brand I've tried." Jim chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, "Comes packaged in gold leaf too if you're one for that sort of thing."
Oh and, have a happy birthday! I happened to see it pass by on my dash! <3
OoC:
Thank you very much dear <333
"How'd we get in this mess?"
10. Have been handcuffed together
"If I knew, I assure you, I'd be fixing the problem." Jim blinked slowly, trying to get accustomed to the pounding in his head, likely an after effect of whatever drug they'd both been given.
Raising his left hand to run through his hair proved more difficult than he'd expected, as the detective's right hand was attached to it by very short-chained handcuffs. A low whistle escaped the criminal as he took full note of their situation.
"Clearly someone wants us to play nice."