(voice)

[worldsonly]

[ the voice coming through is rough, sibilant, and oddly steamy -- literally. literally steamy. as in, it literally sounds like there is steam in the background when Sherlock breathes. ]

If you see an idiot running around with plate armor and a sword yelling about the dragon of the east, don't worry, that's just John having evidently lost his mind.

Would that we could all be so fortunate.

[ there is clattering, like someone is trying to press buttons wildly with a stick (or several sticks), and then a frustrated growl that coincides strangely with the sound of a building shaking, before the transmission ends abruptly. ]

Comments

[heartofbakerst]

[ What an arrogant monster. And yet, John can't help himself but to be intrigued and interested in what he has to say. After all, he'd only just 'guessed' all of these things.. or had he truly noticed? He pulls his shield from his arm and sets it against the sofa. ]

So this is what you do when you're not out ransacking villages for their treasures in the dead of night? You lounge about and belittle people based on the things they may or may not be wearing?

[worldsonly]

Do you consider the truth so belittling?

[heartofbakerst]

Certainly! When you say it like that, anyone would! As if all of the answers could easily be... seen. What rot. And to think that I nearly believed your nasty lies.

Now stand! [ He takes up his sword again, the pointed end directly in Sherlock's face ] I refuse to strike my enemy while he is ill-equipped to fight back.

[worldsonly]

I literally just told you how I know -- oh, never mind.

[ ok, nope, there's clearly no getting out of this without a fight, which is a shame because he'd prefer to avoid one of them dying at the hands of the other. he's perfectly capable of unarmed combat against a sword-wielding assassin, but one thing he isn't experienced in is the accommodation of working with three extra limbs. perhaps he could simply snatch John up and fly away with him until they're high enough that killing Sherlock in midair would be a suicidal and irrational counterattack and John will simply be forced to dangle until Sherlock can drop him in a tree? hm. maybe as a last resort. either way, Sherlock slowly climbs to his feet, dislodging several napping bunnies as he does so, and settles himself to his full and impressive height. ]

I hope you're not expecting any kind of compensation for my execution, considering as you may have noticed I don't actually have any treasure, stolen or otherwise.

[ a beat. ]

Unless you're especially fond of rabbits.

[heartofbakerst]

[ He looks much larger on his feet than he did while he was lounging on the sofa, and for a moment, he's stricken dumb. But it's only a moment before his grip has re-tightened on his sword and he's looped his shield back over his forearm. ]

It would be better for the both of us if you did not waste any more time trying to be clever. Tell me where the treasures are and I shall spare your wicked life.

[worldsonly]

By all means, search away. There's nothing to find.

[ Sherlock spreads his arms (though not his wings, not wanting to look particularly intimidating) in a manner reminiscent of when he took on the CIA agent so long ago -- only this time, he doesn't plan on subduing John like he did the agent, just watching him. ]

[heartofbakerst]

[ John watches Sherlock warily for a moment before leaning in to pat him down and even search his pockets, hoping for some trace of treasure; a coin, jewel, or even some kind of key. He comes away clean and lowers his shield again, looking rather disappointed with his empty hands. ]

Well, of course it wouldn't be on you. What've you done with it?