#one-lastmiracle

Stranger:Was formal really so exhausting? You seemed to enjoy it, at least I thought so. -SH

You:Eh. It was enjoyable enough. It's better if I tell Molly I don't have fun, she feels better about not getting to go. Also, I don't know. Just tired. JW

Stranger:Oh. That's considerate of you. -SH

You:I try. JW

Stranger:No idea why, though. Regardless, are we still on for Bart's tomorrow? I wanted to look at the new flanges. -SH

Stranger:Or will you still be tired? -SH

You:Um, probably. I don't know. I think I might have got a cold while I waited outside for you to show up in your slow as hell taxi. JW

You:But yeah, I'll try my best. JW

Stranger:I can't control traffic John, despite my attempts. I apologised, though. -SH

Stranger:Don't feel obligated to go. I could ask Molly. She would accompany me. -SH

You:She's grounded, Sher. That includes formals and trips to Bart's. I can probably make it out of here tomorrow, I'll just drink some cold medicine or something. JW

Stranger:Right. How long has she been grounded? Social custom dictates I offer help. Do you want me to bring you soup? -SH

You:Just this weekend. And no, Sher, you don't need to bring me soup. JW

Stranger:Not long, then. You're sure? And stop calling me that, I'm not Sher. -SH

You:I know, I know, you're not Sherl or Sherly or Lock or Sher, you're Sherlock. Blah blah blah. And yeah, I'm fine, unless you want to come over. JW

Stranger:Then call me by my name. Well I've nothing better to do. Mycroft ruined my experiments. -SH

You:Alright, Sherlock. I'm sorry about your experiments. Come over if you'd like, but I am just going to be lying on my bed in the suit I wore not moving because I'm growing ever more tired as the night wares on. JW

Stranger:Sounds boring. Ten minutes. -SH

You:Great. I'll try to stay awake in the meantime. JW

Stranger:Should I entertain you? -SH

Stranger:Wait, I didn't mean /that/.-SH

Stranger:Keep you awake. -SH

Stranger:No, not that either...-SH

Stranger:Never mind, you know what I mean. -SH

You:I didn't think you did. JW

You:Although if you'd like to tell me something, Sherlock, by all means. JW

Stranger:Your sarcasm is not appreciated. Why are there so many double entendres for that phrase? -SH

You:Because people need some way to covertly say they want a shag without making it too obvious. Had to use a phrase that could be hidden in general conversation. I guess. JW

Stranger:And also one that could be used to convey the wrong message to a mate. -SH

Stranger:And speaking of, why does that word also work the same way? -SH

Stranger:Bleeding English. Rubbish language. -SH

You:Well of course. What else is one to do with their free time but make things awkward for teen boys? JW

You:What, 'mate'? It's not. We use mate like friend, but it also means one-with-which-you-makes-babies. JW

Stranger:I'm aware. But it describes relationships that are exactly opposite. If I say you were my mate, which would I be referring to? How would you know? -SH

You:Well as I'm pretty sure we can't physicaly spawn children, I'm assuming you mean friend. JW

Stranger:Yes, but you would be left to assume, and you know what they say about assuming.-SH

You:I'm already an ass, Sherlock. I need no outside help. JW

Stranger:I wouldn't say that. -SH

Stranger:Anyway, glad to see my distraction worked well enough to keep you awake. Come open the door. -SH

You:Clever. JW John slid from the bed in his room and walked down the short hallway towards the front door. It was a small little flat, but he liked being in such a nice, compact space. The money saved each month on rent went to more importnat things. And it was well decorated, painted so that it looked bigger than it actually was. John opened the door, his muffed black suit and undone bowtie draped over the crinkled white dress shirt he wore. He gave a sniffle, then spoke. "Hello there."

Stranger:Sherlock had no patience for suits, and had consequently shed his coat, holding it in one crooked finger over his shoulder. He didn't know why he'd come, not really. He blamed it on the lack of things to do at his own house. That, and John's flat suprisingly lacked a Mycroft to bother him. John opened the door, Sherlock's eyes inadvertantly sliding down, taking all of him in once more. John looked fit in a suit. "Bored." He replied, moving past his friend into the flat, flopping down onto the couch.

You:The fact that Sherlock was no longer wearing the suit coat most certainly did not dissapoint John at all, because he could care less what his friend looked like. Obviously. Even if, even withought the coat, he looked very nice in the fitted dress pants and shirt, and John could not help but realize it. That was just a detached view point. Of course. "You know..." John mumbled, shutting the door and leaning against it to talk to Sherlock. "It is astonishing how you can enter any place and immediately begin to sulk. Honestly, I'd be a bit worried if I didn't know why. What do you want to do, then?"

Stranger:Sherlock couldn't help the smirk that twisted his lips up. John always helped his moods. " And I find it thoroughly amazing how, knowing that, you continue to invite me over." He turned, looking at John who was pressed against the door frame, too tired to support his own weight. Sherlock shrugged as well as he could laying down. "No idea. Since you're so tired, though, perhaps you shouldn't be doing much of anything." He hadn't known what to expect, coming over to John's close to midnight, after formal. Sherlock tore his eyes away from John's top buttons, undone one too far. Why would he notice that? Had it been like that all night? "Movie?"

You:(brb)

Stranger:((k))

You:"Yeah, sounds good." John replied, glancing over to the pile of disk cases just as Sherlock had made the sugestion, completely missing the look towards his shirt. If he'd been asked why his shirt was somewhat undone, he would simply have replied once again that he was tired. In the stack, he noted a few Bond films he expected Sherlock would be able to stand. Soon, he'd collected enough energy to move over to the pile and slip the disk into the old dvd player connected to his television. He turned, looking at the couch now full occupied by Sherlock. "Budge up, I need someplace to sit." He chuckled, pushing Sherlock's shoulder very lightly.

Stranger:While John fiddled with the dvd player and got the movie in, Sherlock groaned, not wanting to move, but knowing he had to anyway. "Fine." He muttered, sitting up and allowing John to take the place where his back had just been. Once John was seated, though, Sherlock lay back down in his spot, which left him to practically lay in John's lap. Neither seemed to mind; they'd had movie night before, and usually personal space wasn't much of an issue. Sherlock fidgeted as soon as the movie started, already bored. It was one of the 'classics', John insisted. Sherlock never found the appeal. "Move your hand, it's digging into my back."

You:"Move your back, it's engulfing my hand." John replied, but moved his hand away to the top of the couch cushions. Not without smacking Sherlock, very very lightly, in the back of the head. He had deserved it. The movie had begun playing, and John glanced beside his legs. Most nights, he wouldn't have given the position a second thought. Sherlock liked to sulk on a couch, John liked to sit on one. It was just how it went. However, somehow, something about the earlier conversation mixed with the way a bored Sherlock looked when wearing tailored clothing got him wondering just exactly what it would be like if Sherlock were to scoot his head up just a bit further. Rest the mop of curls in his lap and... damned teenage brain. John shut his mind up speedily, deiciding instead to relax more into his position on the small sofa. He knew Sherlock was bored, so searchingly, he tried to strike up a conversation. "How did you like the formal?"

Stranger:((I /like/ you. Do you have a tumblr, in case we get disconnected?))

You:((Nawwww! ^-^ I like you, too! ohfangirlplease ))

Stranger:((You're one of the better rp-ers I've found, especially for teen lock, one-lastmiracle.))

You:((^-^ Thanks so much! You're pretty great yourself!))

Stranger:The opening credits began, and Sherlock ignored the light pop to the back of his head. John enjoyed being domestic, for whatever reason. He knew by now not to question his friend's actions. He felt John shift under his back, and Sherlock moved to accommodate him, sliding a bit further back. "Ugh," He groaned, dropping his head onto the arm rest of the sofa, glaring at John. "Terrible. Why did you make me go to that anyway? It's the exact same every year and we both hate it, but we both always go. Too loud, too many people, terrible food, too many drunks, and /far/ too much flirting." He rolled his eyes. A few too many girls had dragged John onto the dance floor, which probably explained why he was exhausted, whereas Sherlock had watched from the corner all night. "This is the highlight of my day. Depressing, isn't it?"

You:Ah, Bond. Reliable spy music and dancing shadow girls. Homey. You knew what you were getting when you went in for a Bond movie. John pulled his legs beneeth himself and grabbed the blanket from the back of the coach, covering himself in order to maintain body heat. He actually was very cold, more than the usual cold. Sick, then. "Oh, shush. It's not that bad. It's just..." John paused mid sentence, trying to give Sherlock a redeeming quality for the anual event. And, when he considered that few people ever talked to his friend at the formals, let alone attempted to dance with him, and that Sherlock didn't like any of the music, or the pointless flirting, or the alchohol, or the food, or the decorations, he resumed. "Not even kind of good. It's only lacking in redeeming qualittys, now that I really think about it." He laughed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes while he continued speaking. "I guess I should apologize for hauling you out there. At least you get to see me wear the one suit I own once a year, that must be something."

You:((It has just occured to me that I have a final tomorrow morning and must be getting some rest. However, as we have each other's tumblrs, I am all for continuing there? I can post the log, if you'd like.))

Stranger:((Oh, the joys of finals. Goddamn highschool. Um. Yeah. Okay, that works. I kind of just have to make sure my rp partner doesn't find it, but yeah. If you'd post the log, then I'll reply, and we can continue.))

You:((Lol, alrighty. ^-^ Ttys! Have a nice night!))

Stranger:((You too!))

You have disconnected.