snowblindrpg | [network] @ADMIN; Arrival

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Sherlock, have you ever flirted with another person? Seriously, not for a case or experiment.

[John doesn't know about Janine, but she was for a case anyway so it doesn't matter.

For some reason Irene Adler pops in his head, an image of her smile and the way she held herself. Why is he thinking of the Woman now? Inconvenient.]

Why would I? You know how I feel about sex and relationships.

I'm making the point that you wouldn't know romance if it came and clubbed you over the head. You thought I was hitting on you when we were on our first stakeout. Maybe don't pass judgment on my poetry when you haven't got the first idea what women want. Or men for that matter.

[If Sherlock's obliviousness at the circus date had been anything to go by.]

None of your girlfriends liked the poetry you wrote, it was obvious in their reactions.

Helen. Or was it Rebecca? The dowdy one with the cats. She displayed the card with the romantic verse for three days before it was recycled. Hardly an inspiring amount of time.

[Don't ask how he knew when he never went in her house to find out.]

[Okay, he probably shouldn't be arguing this publicly. He doesn't really win many arguments with Sherlock.]

Well, I'd like to see you do better. Give us a love poem, then, mate.

[There's a long pause before the audio clicks on. The background noise is wind, so he's obviously outside. Crunching footsteps getting closer indicate he's put the tablet down. There's an unclasping noise, and then violin music.

He composes as he goes, lilting and romantic.

It's only intended to be a short demonstration of his prowess into love poetry (for what is music, but poetry?) but he gets lost in the music. He forgets the cold, forgets the wind, forgets John.

The music becomes sadder.]

[That takes the irritated wind right out of his sails. They let him keep his violin, and Sherlock always played beautifully when he wasn't in a mood to be an annoying brat. John waits for a break in the music and switches to audio; Sherlock already knows about his broken nose.]

Oh, Sherlock... that's really not fair at all. Fine, you win. I-

[Wait a moment.]

Wait. How the hell d'you have your violin? They only bring us with what we had on us at the time.

[He doesn't answer.

If he even hears John, it's debatable. The flow of music doesn't stop at all, sliding further into melancholy, though no less beautiful for it.

His fingers are freezing, he's taken off his gloves to play, and the wind is an irritating backdrop. But John will have to try harder to get his attention now he's sinking into the music.]

[It's easy to just want to listen, to close his eyes and just imagine it's a night at Baker Street. John can picture the living room, sitting in his chair and reading while his friend practices. Maybe it's just after a case, there's hot tea sitting on the side table next to him.

John shakes himself out of it. That's not... right. Nothing is warm here, and Sherlock needs to focus on moving. They can deal with how he managed to get his violin later. The doctor's voice is a military bark when he next speaks up.]

Sherlock! Put your gloves back on and wait 'til you're inside, you bloody show-off.

[That's rude.

The bark does get through to him, mostly because it hits a discordant note with what he's playing, and the music stops in an abrupt screech of angry strings.]

You asked for a demonstration, John.

[Don't complain just because he's amazing.]

I didn't mean freeze your damn fingers off for it. Get inside, then show me up. Idiot...

Jealousy is an ugly colour, John.

[He chuckles and there's the soft sound of muted strings chiming when he gets his violin put away.]

So we're agreed that you should not pursue anyone?

I don't think we agreed to that. If you find someone you approve of for me, I promise to limit myself, though. [Considering he doubts Sherlock will ever find someone he approves of...]

[He already has.

It frustrates him endlessly that he can't say as much and that gives his voice a testy edge.]

None of the women here deserve you, John. Try to focus on the more important things, of which your libido is not one.

Have you even met any of the women? Most of them are nice.

If nice was the only criteria, you could have married Mrs. Hudson years ago.

Okay. First off, that's gross. She's old enough to be my mum. Second, you know that's not my only criteria.

From what I have been able to tell from your past exploits, your only other criteria appears to be that she is available.

I am not that easy. [He kind of is, but never you mind.] Sarah asked me out, y'know? [He'd been flirting with her, but still.] Maybe I like strong, assertive women.

[Yes, that he can attest to. Mary is perfect for him.]

I'm bored of discussing your romantic life.

[Just... going to put that out there.]

Don't date anyone here, I need you to be focused.

[John just sighs and hangs up. He's not agreeing, but this argument isn't going to go anywhere.]

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