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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Sept 3, 2011 21:26:44 GMT -5
Sebastian was a slut. Luckily for James, he made sure Sebastian only ever spread his legs for him. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) that meant the couple went through condoms faster than the US went through overseas conflicts. James hated having to run to the mart just to buy condoms. It was such a waste of time. But, being the man in the relationship, he had to assume responsibility of buying the protection.
Grabbing one of those single baskets, James went straight to the birth control aisle and scooped the condoms off the shelves and into his basket. The one woman in the same aisle buying tampons stared at him, completely in shock at what she was seeing.
"What?" He snapped moodily at her. She looked away instantly. "Stupid bint," he muttered under his breath, stomping away from the condoms. The infuriating layout of the grocery mart took him down a frozen foods aisle in which another man stood. James slowed down his gait, smirking when he saw who it was, and stopped completely about one third of the way in.
"Why Sherlock, fancy seeing you here," James cooed, adjusting his hold on the basket full of condoms. It was rather bizarre to encounter one's mortal enemy while holding a basket topped with sparkling, glow in the dark, ridged, and flavoured condoms.
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SHERLOCK HOLMES
Middle Class
Sherlock Holmes
"The game is afoot."
Posts: 297
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Post by SHERLOCK HOLMES on Sept 3, 2011 23:15:05 GMT -5
Sherlock Holmes was purchasing a turkey.
Though it was probably out of season (the detective didn't actually know when people thought it right to eat turkey), he found himself in the 'frozen food' aisle of a local supermarket. Looking at morbid frozen birds.
It was a truly terrible was to spend one's day. Though the turkey was needed for unimportant matters of conseqeunce. And just had to be frozen - naturally. Blinking twice, Sherlock found himself frowning at the freezers before him. For some reason, possibly every single frozen bird in the shop had been piled into a cold drawer standing taller than he was. There probably wasn't even a suitable reason for it. And even if there was, it would be something surely preposterous.
After he had stood, unmoving, in the same place for approximately four and a half minutes, Holmes was unexpectedly drawn away from the marvellous world of chilled turkey by an unfortunately unpleasant voice.
"Why Sherlock, fancy seeing you here,"
The detective moved his head slowly, until he was facing the expected figure. Holding, quite possibly, a rather unexpected basket of items. His face settled into somewhat of a scowl, holding a look surely worthy of Death himself. Or perhaps it just simply said: "You."
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Sept 4, 2011 1:35:04 GMT -5
James smirked and chuckled. Sauntering over to Holmes's side, James gave a jaunty little turn and looked at the frozen poultry with Holmes. "Yes, yes, I know. It's me. Charming to see you too," James crossed his hands behind his back, wrapping his figners around the basket's handle. He surveyed the frozen birds carefully, not really feeling bothered to figure out why that insane man wanted one. James knew he didn't cook so the turkey obviously wasn't for that reason. That left some contrived experiment.
James sniffed distastefully.
"Oh...," James reached into her basket and pulled out a box of condoms. A glance at the label told him that it was not a box he would regret parting with. They were electric blue, glittered, and supposedly tasted of blue raspberry. "Here, for you and that pet of yours," James tossed the box over to the gangly consulting detective and resumed his earlier position. "They're a bit large, I'm sure, but you two can make do, can't you?"
James found that he rather liked antagonizing people. Especially people who gave him such a warm welcome. James took great pleasure in mucking about with Sherlock Holmes's life; it always guatenteed to be far more entertaining than other ventures. Save for that one outing with Sebastian to the most painfully homophobic dance club in the city.
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SHERLOCK HOLMES
Middle Class
Sherlock Holmes
"The game is afoot."
Posts: 297
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Post by SHERLOCK HOLMES on Sept 4, 2011 16:27:51 GMT -5
Sherlock rolled his shoulders back, visibly tensing when James drew nearer, as if preparing for some form of feud. It wouldn't be unlikely. Or perhaps Holmes was just partially hoping for one. Which, again, was to be expected.
Turning to face the freezer, Sherlock stifled a sigh. The man obviously found some form of joy from aggravating him, and (however much Holmes detested the idea) seemed to have quick the knack for it. But, what possibly infuriated him the most, was that try as he might, Sherlock could find little to prove his accusations about the man correct. And James seemed excruciatingly aware of that.
Only slightly opening the freezer door (the pile of frozen poultry seemed to be precariously close to tipping), Holmes absentmindedly plucked a turkey from the mound, considering how much damage it would cause if thrown with great intent toward James' head. He tossed it in his hand for a few seconds, mind whirring as he attempted to work out what the result of a frozen-bird-to-the-side-of-the-head would be. He doubted very much.
With almost a sigh, the detective settled for slammed shut the freezer door with enough force to cause almost the entire aisle to shudder. Not to mention making the bird tower tumble against the glass. And, as he spun on his heel to face 'the enemy' (a rather dramatic nickname - even for Holmes), found himself lightly catching a most peculiar object. Nose wrinkled, Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together as he frowned at the box - obvious annoyance clouding his features. In a rather childish moment, he threw the box straight back. The only thing he regretted was that it didn't have as much effect as the turkey would.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Sept 4, 2011 17:11:25 GMT -5
James rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, chuckling inwardly. Holmes was so very expressive. He hadn't perfected a poker face yet, and probably never would. He was far too excitably and energetic to hold anything inside. James on the other hand, could be as stoic as a statue with no problem. Granted he was almost twice as old as Holmes and he had far more practice but still.
It was just sad.
Letting lose the chuckle he had been holding in when Holmes slammed the freezer door shut, creating a fowl avalanche, James swiveled to face him just in time to catch the box that was thrown back at him. "Oh no, really. I insist," James tossed it back to Sherlock and then looked down at the basket. "Unless there's another sort you prefer. I have patterns, other flavours and...oh look at this, a vibrating, glow in the dark one. Take that as well," James pegged another box at Holmes. He had no interested in his prick vibrating during sex.
Hopefully, that would set Holmes off. James would love to see an eruption today. It had been a while since he had a fight with someone other than that mentally challenged cow Adler. She was so dull an opponent.
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SHERLOCK HOLMES
Middle Class
Sherlock Holmes
"The game is afoot."
Posts: 297
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Post by SHERLOCK HOLMES on Sept 4, 2011 18:01:31 GMT -5
Unfortunately, Holmes' actions could be completely childish at times. Perhaps it was his previous lack of a true childhood that forced him into occasionally behaving so immaturely. Or perhaps it was just another odd aspect of the detective's personality.
Perhaps this was the reason he found himself pelting the boxes toward James' head.
He was truly an oddity. In fact, even if such an incident in the supermarket hadn't happened - purely his reason for being there supported the theory! Though it was more accurately fact. And, dependent on who was judging, hardly needed to be proven.
Sherlock's pale eyes began to dart around, presumably attempting to determine James' next move. He had a tendency to do that, when facing an opponent. A slight shift in balance could incline whether they were going to reach to the left, or the right. And usually came in oddly useful. Not even noticing whether the boxes hit their target, Holmes made a sudden decision. One he was certain he wouldn't regret. Tossing the frozen bird in his hand steadily, the detective took one step backwards, before sending it airborne. And heading straight in line for James' face.
It had certainly been quite a while since Sherlock's last food fight.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Sept 5, 2011 14:30:12 GMT -5
James moved his head to the side slightly to avoid being hit with the condom boxes and tsked disapprovingly. Before he could let loose his prepared, scathing comment, a frozen turkey was being hurtled at his head. Nimbly, James swung open the freezer door beside him and the frozen poultry bounced off the glass, cracking it. James scowled at Holmes like a disappointed father.
"What are you? Five?" James scolded, carefully shutting the broken door. "Really Holmes, someone of your adequate intelligence should behave with more decorum," James straightened his suit fussily. That suit had cost him nearly $2,000 and he was not going to let it be ruined by Holmes's childish acts.
If he didn't actually need the condoms, James would have retaliated. It would have been in self-defense by this point.
Instead, James slipped a hand into his pocket and shook his head at Holmes. "Really now. And if you are going to try and brain me with some poor bird, do try and aim better,"
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SHERLOCK HOLMES
Middle Class
Sherlock Holmes
"The game is afoot."
Posts: 297
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Post by SHERLOCK HOLMES on Sept 6, 2011 18:57:24 GMT -5
Sherlock closed his eyes, just for a fraction of a second longer than a usual blink. Resisting throwing another turkey (though mostly due to the fact that opening the freezer door would cause some form of frozen-fowl-flood) at the man, Sherlock clenched his fingers into fists. It was somewhat of a subconscious habit of his to dig his nails into the palms of his hands, which rather oddly caused his knuckles to turn an alarmingly shade of white.
Perhaps on another day, in another city, Holmes wouldn't have fled the scene. But, as he didn't seem very interested in their feud at the time, the gangly detective turned on his heel. After an eloquent glare, strode from the frozen food aisle with his usual swagger.
His aim was perfectly fine. It was the bird. Not bloody streamlined enough, that's what.
Without turning a corner, Sherlock found himself walking between stocked full shelves, that seemed to be drowning the aisle in the strong aroma of freshly-baked bread.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Sept 18, 2011 13:45:04 GMT -5
James rolled his eyes. Such a child. Shutting the now cracked freezer door, James swaggered after Holmes. Oh the downfall of being bored. One was willing to put up with almost anything just to have something to do. James didn't hurry after Holmes, instead he took his time. He knew that Holmes, being so much like himself, wouldn't be able to just walk away without throwing at least one barb. Since the consulting detective had been silent so far, James knew one was coming.
He wouldn't miss it for the world.
James couldn't keep the smirk off of his face as they wandered into the bread aisle. There was a particularly scrumptious looking loaf of marble rye that he was tempted to add to the basket. Sebastian may not have appreciated the finer things in life i.e. expertly crafted food, but James certainly did. Such bread would be delicious with a topping of goat cheese and roasted tomatoes. Almost nonchalantly, James pulled up to that bread stand and methodically looked over every loaf before selecting one. It had the perfect firmness, the perfect snap to the crust. Tucking it on top of the condoms, James turned back to the enigmatic genius who he had momentarily forgotten about.
"Are you having a bad day, Holmes? We can always do this later when you're on top of your game,"
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SHERLOCK HOLMES
Middle Class
Sherlock Holmes
"The game is afoot."
Posts: 297
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Post by SHERLOCK HOLMES on Sept 30, 2011 12:23:34 GMT -5
"I am at the top of my game!" Sherlock protested, turning again to face the man again. It wasn't a great come-back, in fact it was nothing short of a terrible one, but the words had just seemed to appear from nowhere. Sherlock certainly did not like being insulted.
Though, once eight words had escaped, it didn't seem to end there. Holmes often talked a lot, and frequently at top speed (for instance when outwardly expressing his theories toward a case), though it seemed nothing compared to the steady stream of words he spoke then. In fact, it was uncertain whether or not that was plural. It could have been simply one, long, made-up word.
"And I am not having a bad day. Or I wasn't. Are you bored, James? Is it amusing to irritate me so, or are you just lacking entertainment? It was a perfectly grand day, thank you very much, until I decided I was in need of a turkey. Can you believe they are not sold in the nearest four shops to where I live? And I read the note, M. I honestly wouldn't have classed you as the funny type. Quite hilarious. Ha. Ha. Can't a man buy a turkey in peace..." And so on. In fact, those most certainly weren't the correct words at all. Though he definitely seemed to be babbling, little sense could be made of the pure noise he created.
Halfway through his unusual proclamation, Sherlock thought it fitting to create some form of dramatic effect - by grabbing a nearby baguette, and waving it about almost threateningly. He really was an unusual sight.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Oct 12, 2011 14:16:24 GMT -5
"And I am not having a bad day. Or I wasn't. Are you bored, James? Is it amusing to irritate me so, or are you just lacking entertainment? It was a perfectly grand day, thank you very much, until I decided I was in need of a turkey. Can you believe they are not sold in the nearest four shops to where I live? And I read the note, M. I honestly wouldn't have classed you as the funny type. Quite hilarious. Ha. Ha. Can't a man buy a turkey in peace..."
James calmly stared at Holmes as he rambled on. The man really did have a horrible case of verbal diarrhea. As he kept going on and on and on and on, James rolled his eyes, inspected his nails, checked the freshness of so called "Fresh baked rolls" (they were over thirteen hours old, thus no longer 'fresh baked') and sat his basket of condoms aside so he could brush invisible lint from from his jacket. This could take a while. Once Holmes got started into one of his rants, there was no stopping him.
And it was all so very boring until he picked up a baguette and started waving it around like some sort of weapon. James let out a barking laugh at that, crossing his arms.
"Are you intending to bludgeon me to death with French pastry?" James raised an eyebrow elegantly and stared at the hyperactive consulting detective. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with food? Oh, of course not, silly me. She was too busy paying attention to Mycroft to notice you."
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SHERLOCK HOLMES
Middle Class
Sherlock Holmes
"The game is afoot."
Posts: 297
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Post by SHERLOCK HOLMES on Oct 12, 2011 15:17:41 GMT -5
"Are you intending to bludgeon me to death with French pastry?"
Holmes stared at the baguette in his left hand for a moment, possibly weighing out the options he was faced with. Perhaps he was planning to do just that. Though, even for Sherlock, that seemed downright immature. However tempting the opportunity was.
He still seemed to be talking, though in such a nonsensical manner that it could be questioned as to whether it actually was him saying the words or not. It seemed to have simply evolved into Holmes spouting nothing but random, possibly very few being slightly relative, words. Even he probably didn't realise he was still talking.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with food? Oh, of course not, silly me. She was too busy paying attention to Mycroft to notice you." At the last sentence, Sherlock - quite promptly - shut up. He frowned, though a thorough look of both confusion and questioning clouded his face. Obviously the detctive wouldn't have thought it a surprise for James to know about his brother, but it was the rest of his point that had caused alarm bells to ring in Holmes' brain. The brothers never had (in Sherlock's opinion) 'got along' particularly well, and it was fair to say that the younger most certainly despised the elder. And this rivalry (though it could possibly only be considered as such from his point of view) was fueled by such a great number of things. Though, at that specific moment, he only acknowledged the one James had mentioned. And also took into consideration how the man happened to know about it.
"What?" Though he said little (there really wasn't anything he could find to voice), the detective's face expressed possibly all of his internal ponderings.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Nov 2, 2011 22:58:00 GMT -5
Sherlock Holmes's face was like an open book. A boring, predictable book that was sold a dime a dozen at gas stations. If he hadn't been so spectacularly amused at the fact that the great Sherlock Holmes had been caught off guard, James wouldn't have cared.
But to catch Sherlock Holmes with his trousers down, metaphorically speaking, was bloody fantastic.
"What?"
And to reduce him to monosyllabic responses was even better. Grinning like the cat that got the canary, James tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and gave a dramatic sigh. "Didn't he tell you?" James placed a hand over his chest, oozing a mockery of hurt. "Mike and I are close, personal friends."
James had known Mycroft Holmes long enough and well enough to learn about his part. He pieced together Sherlock's part from what he knew about Mycroft's. It was wasn't difficult really, just a bit bothersome and completely worth it. The look on Sherlock's face was...sublime.
"He honestly hasn't told you?" James pouted and fluttered his eye lashes slightly. "I'm going to have a word with him once we're done here."
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