#model conversation

Word count: 890

The wind whipped past, threatening to send everything scattering to the concrete.  The candles flickered in their little caves, even with the openings pointed towards the building, attempting to keep them alive.  The stones rattled rocking back and forth on their uneven edges.  Rowan’s dress was long but she had also chosen to wrap up in a scarf she had been gifted to stave off the chill the wind brought.  It didn’t necessarily bother her, yet.

If the chill sunk into her bones there would be no sleeping until she could chase it away.  It was a known fact for her.  The cold could be held at bay, but once it was in, it was in, and only different means of self care could free her from it.  

But still, she wrapped the scarf tighter so the wind wouldn’t steal it.  “I got this.”  She whispered to herself.  Aware that some curious eyes passed her way, but they gave her the privacy she needed, but it was a relief to know that Mycroft and Sherlock were there if she needed them.  Even if they didn’t share the same beliefs.  

The clock struck midnight, but it was a different kind of night.  Happy Halloweens had been shared, the dark of the night lit by the big blue moon, and daylight’s saving granting one extra hour.  It was Samhain.  A time when the veil thinned and the spirits of the dead could visit their families, as well as a time when more mischievous spirits could visit.  Her pumpkins cast ghoulish glows, lit by lightbulbs this year to make sure the grins would stay bright warning off any negative spirits.  

“I cleanse this space of all negativity, negative energies who mean us harm, negative energies that do not work with us, energies who do not promote our work this evening.”  Familiar words, and a weird bell, the rattle may have worked better, but the bell rang out farther.  

The work had just started, and even after the circle would be closed, there was still ‘work’ to be done.  

A cold slice of pizza waited for the cold Rowan when she came inside.  “Sherlock didn’t mess with it.”  Mycroft swore, which only prompted further inspection.

Always inspect your food on Halloween.  She had learned that well after finding shards of hard plastic in her drink not too long ago.  But it did seem just as she had left it.  With a huff, she dropped into the chair and started eating her pizza.

“What was your ‘ritual’ for tonight?”  Mycroft inquired as he unwrapped another piece of candy.  She would have to check with Sherlock, who had more of the candy bowl?  ‘Trick or Treaters’ or Mycroft.  

“Tonight, it was… it was more of a ‘new year celebration’ than anything.”  

“Ah, I’ve heard this holiday referred to as the Witches New Year.”

“Yep, but it’s also something special.  Tonight’s focus was ‘wishes to hold us through the winter’.”  

“You mean like a new years resolution?”

“Yeah.”  She picked at the pizza toppings, thinking about the path before her.  There was a little difference though, if you ask the universe for help in something, it will help you, though it can be a bit of a curse if you don’t put in the work yourself.  

“What is your wish?”

“Right now?  I think I wish I had some wine to go with this pizza.”

Mycroft got up and returned shortly with a chilled bottle of water.  “Now about that wish for winter.”

Rowan sighed, she quickly unscrewed the water bottle top and started drinking, slowly.

She could feel the weight of Mycroft staring at her as she took the tiny sips.

Mycroft started, “oh you know, I think that was one of Sherlock’s-”  She spat the water out, searching the taste for anything strange.  Would she need medical attention?  Would he be experimenting to see how strong a poison tasted in water at different temperatures?  Was he storing evidence to be examples later that she had just- “Kidding~”  Mycroft teased.

Glaring at him, Rowan screwed the top back on.  “You really want to know?”  His gaze was focused on her, nothing about him screamed ‘ready to judge’.  

Rowan mumbled down towards the table, “‘change.’” 

“Excuse me?”

“‘Self transformation’, you know the traditional new years resolution staple.”

“I highly doubt you need witchcraft for that.”

“Yeah.”  She looked down at her arms, remembering how she couldn’t stop them from trembling earlier just trying to hold a cat.  “I wish I didn’t feel like I needed it, but every bit of help, right?”  She shot him a smile.  

A large hand dropped down on top of her head in a solid PAT.  

“Let me know if there’s any way we can help.”

“‘We’?”

“Of course.  If Sherlock can help, I know a few ways of making sure he does so.”  His smile twisted in a familiar way, the grin of an older sibling with dirt.  The one she probably gave her siblings a few times. 

“Ha, I might take you up on that.”

Mycroft: You’re going to bed early.

Me: Yep.  I’m exhausted

Mycroft: You’re on your phone.

Me: I’m bored.

Mycroft: That’s nice, but you’re not going to get to sleep unless you put the phone down.

Me: I know...

Mycroft: I cannot force you, but you just acknowledged that I’m right.  Now what would I do if I was there?

Me:  ... -puts phone away-

Mycroft: Good girl.  Now stay in bed, and go to sleep. 

Me: I like Sebastian more, he let me stay up on my phone.

Mycroft: Looking at cat photos I’m sure, but that’s not conducive to get your proper rest.

Me:

There are certain times when you’re creeped out and you refuse to turn around, but there is a slight hurriedness of your step as if you’re just inches away from being grabbed.  As I went around and double checked that everything was in place I could not deny that this was how I felt in the abandoned house.  The sun had set and I had set up a few battery operated lanterns to give me more light, however that may have been a mistake as it just cast more shadows on the walls that made me almost jump out of the giraffe onesie pajamas.  “This wasn’t a bad idea, not at all…”  A little stack of horror movies sat next to my laptop so George and I could pick together, now to wait for the man of the hour. Just a little ways off was a plastic tote that I had brought junk food in.  I didn’t entertain the notion that this place was clear of any mice, so it seemed like a better bet to keep our food safe.

 With the silence only being interrupted by the creaking and groaning of the old house it was hard not to start talking to myself, something to break the silence and shatter the growing tension around me.  Eventually there was the sound of hurried footsteps just as there was a sudden rushing noise of rain starting to fall.  “Oh no…”

 Careful of all the plans and items in place I went to the door to help George get in, hoping to avoid him getting soaked all the way through.  The poor guy had come in his pajamas as well, throwing his coat over it all with a duffle bag tucked under his arm.  His hair was already starting to frizz with the humidity though he had managed to get in before it all came pouring down.  

 “You were cutting it close with the storm, Inspector.”

 “There hadn’t been any rain in the forecast for tonight.”

I also forgot to add some of the character sprites are leaning off to the side, therefore making them shorter than they may appear, (ex. John, Mycroft… wait a second, are they all leaning, looking back on it now?) So it makes it quite difficult, I actually like what you’ve come up with, however.

(a continuation on this topic)

Ah. First the age thing does come into play.  With Mikah I think he’s actually 15, 13 at the youngest.  He’s in Secondary school 11 yo - 16 yo.  That said I actually put his sprite at a shorter height than the average 5′8″ (according to google).

And oh my goodness it’s hilarious to think of John and Sherlock with a vast height difference!  Though I also get:

John aiming a gun at mini Sherlock yelling and scolding and threatening him for a stupid idea when: “… I feel like I’m threatening a toddler.”

The fact that they were leaning did come into conversation but for simplicity sake we decided to forgo it…

BUT- If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to go into that weird little mental headspace I have that I write the model conversations from and compare myself to their heights to get an idea where they actually sit in my imagination.  (Putting it under cut for those who don’t really like that.)

“Mycroft, do something!”  George’s voice rose a slight octave as he slammed his hands down on the table.  The elder Holmes brother barely glanced up from his cupcake.  The frosting was rather thick and hard from being in my fridge for so long.  He had taken it without asking, but that was fine.  I had brought the large container to work as a joke, unknowing that they would be forcing two and a half dozen cupcakes home with me.  

George gestured at the outfits laid out, the bug spray, the tutorial on making my chrome book usable offline playing on repeat on my phone, all the indicators of something he was less favorable towards.  The noise he produced was somewhere between a bleat and a groan.  “Hey George?”

“Yeah?”  

“Can you make that noise again, but slower?  Trying to figure out how one would REALLY describe it.”

“I don’t think this is the time to be making jokes.  You made a vow to clear out your inboxes before you left to certain death.”  He put an emphasis on the last two words, finally catching Mycroft’s attention.  Only so much as to earn a smirk from him, and a massive eye roll from me.

“’Possible death’, I said ‘possible death’, you know I hate being misquoted.”  I set my chrome book to restart in hopes that I would be able to write on it once it was disconnected from the internet and now for a trial run.  “But you’re overreacting.

 I still have time before I leave to clear it out, I just got to get more creative with my time management.  It’s only a few days and I will have signal on like the second or third day when we drive to the town I went to for college.”

“That far North?”  Mycroft patted a napkin, removing the crumbs from his fingers.    I nodded as I continued to double check my items.  Probably want to pick up some more creamer for everyone, there are enough people there who like tea, and enough that will start with some adult beverage first thing in the morning, but everyone welcomed coffee on a chilly morning.  And with how cold it was going to be, according to the weather reports, I would be the only comfortable these next few days.  

“Just for a few days, no one is even gonna miss me.  I promise.”  I rose my hand up in a girl’s scout honor.  

“How deadly is ‘possible death’?”  Mycroft glanced down at his phone, disengaging from the conversation.  Smirking I relay to him exactly what I told George earlier.

“Oh you know… hunting area in the basement with meat hooks to hang the hunter’s kill.  Fell on a cement block last year jumping in the water,” I try not to wince thinking about how it knocked the wind out of me, “only landing on my side though.  The wolf pack in the area.  The militant Christian camp a mile down the lake’s coast.  No biggie.”

“You said they fire guns in the direction of the cabin!”  

“The only did that once two years ago and at 3 in the morning.  Everyone was fine.” I shrug, trying to keep from smiling at George’s increasing panic.  He’s such a dear, but sometimes he just made it too easy.

The soft click of Mycroft setting his phone on the table surprisingly staunched George’s next exclamation.  “No worries Lestrade, I got this all taken cared of.”  

“Mycroft you didn’t.”  I narrowed my eyes at him, “I have various different writing plans to do while I’m up there.  Next chapters, new projects, and all that.”

“And we’ve seen just how marvelous you are at staying on track.”  The smile could be seen as gentle and warm, though it made me want to throw one of the pairs of socks I had laid out at him.  “So I have a few people that are willing to go up with you, please do try to stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, please don’t have the police called on you.”  George nodded at the last sentiment.

I groaned a little getting up and making my way over to him, “don’t worry so much!”  I draped an arm over him, “it takes the police 40 some minutes to get there anyway.”

January 2024 - prompt 'Envelope'

Part one - Model conversations; Rowan's POV

I take a deep breath as I double check the time on the delay for the email.  I hit send as I hear the door open behind me. “I thought I heard someone moving around in here.” I can hear the smirk before I turn to see it.

“Yeah, these last few months have been good, and I thought maybe, I could handle a little more.” I turn to see James Moriarty, an eyebrow raised as he regards me.

“You think so?” He takes a step close to me, his smile is sweet, but there’s something cold in his eyes. “I would love to see that.”

“You don’t sound like you believe me.”