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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 7, 2020 17:06:20 GMT -5
Characters:
Sherlock - BBC version
(Child) Myrnin - AU off the Morganville Vampire character of same name
Setting:
Same as what's in the Sherlock series
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 7, 2020 18:23:18 GMT -5
The sound of the tiny knock on the door wasn't really easy to hear. The sound of soft crying from the other side of it was honestly louder. But even still, after a couple minutes there was another knock at the door.
The boy doing the knocking couldn't have been older than six and was honestly more likely to be five. His hair was a tangled mess and he was looking up at the door with a single minded sort of intent. Even though he was trembling, he was focused nowhere else other than what was directly in front of him. One hand rested on the door and he leaned against it just a little, as if letting it take his weight. There wasn't much to be said about what he was wearing. It looked neither dilapidated or fancy, but it was very dirty. Not the clothes of a poor or rich boy, but certainly of one that probably hadn't had the attention of parents before.
The boy pressed himself against the door a bit more, still softly crying.
Another knock.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 8, 2020 13:02:51 GMT -5
Sherlock wasn’t paying attention.
If he was, he would have heard the knock immediately. But his mind was elsewhere, in the world where numbers made sense and weren’t random scribbles impersonating a half-cooked idea.
He straightened up, holding a vial of dark red liquid. Only then did the sound of someone crying reach his ears.
A frown appeared on his sharp features and he carefully set the vial down. He glanced around as though expecting there to be someone randomly in his home, but there was no one, not even under the table.
Then he realized it was coming from outside.
He came to the door and threw it open, poking his head out and looking around before he realized it was a kid.
“Ah.” He said, surprised. “Er...hello. What on earth are you doing?”
Dirty clothes.
Tangled hair.
“You look terrible.” He added, frowning.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 10, 2020 4:12:49 GMT -5
Despite the fact that Sherlock had both stated the obvious and not exactly done anything to help the matter, the small child still managed to stumble forward and wrap his skinny arms around the detective's legs. The fact that he could be pushed over with so much a breeze didn't seem to deter him, nor did the fact that he was now getting Sherlock's pants grimy and a bit teary.
He also didn't say a word. Not a single word. There didn't seem to be a verbal purpose to him being there and there wasn't a clear visual purpose at first glance.
Apart from the fact that the back of the boy's collar became visible as soon as he had wrapped his arms around Sherlock. Even though his hair, just a bit wild and uncombed, got in the way.
There was dried blood on the color. A fair amount. But the boy didn't seem to be hurt anywhere. He wasn't moving as if there was any sort of injury on his body. Not least to say that there was none on his neck.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 12, 2020 21:33:24 GMT -5
“Ah….” Sherlock looked down, startled to find himself wrapped in a small, dirty hug.
He felt frozen. What was he supposed to do about this, exactly? The small creature seemed to have decided he was a safe person, and he didn’t appreciate that at all.
This was very uncomfortable. He didn’t approve.
He looked down, mouth open to tell the child off, then stopped when he saw the blood. A good amount of it, too. Was he injured? No, a quick scan said there were no wounds. Well then, what was it? Someone else’s blood. Perhaps that explained his grimy appearance and his tears.
“You really must stop this.” He said, gently prying the small arms off of his person and awkwardly patting him on the head. “Er...there, there. You mustn’t touch anything. You’ll compromise the evidence.”
He looked down at his legs, which had a fair amount of dirt and tears on them now. No matter, it was all just evidence.
“Come inside.” He decided, stepping back to admit the child. “Don’t touch anything, don’t cry, don’t sit down, and don’t brush yourself off in any way. I can remember everything I need but I’m afraid I can’t trust anytime else to do the same, so I’ll need you to stand still while I take a few pictures.”
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 16, 2020 4:21:44 GMT -5
The confusing bought of instructions caused the small child to just stand there, looking up at Sherlock with the most puzzled expression possible. That was a bit hard to do, since his eyes were still squinted up from the crying. That wasn't to say he didn't want to do what Sherlock had said, but to the small boy's mind he'd just said to move and to stay still all at once.
Which, as far as anyone was concerned, was impossible to do unless you were Sherlock.
Since no other options presented themselves, the small boy once again moved forward to cling to Sherlock's leg.
Apparently the concept of being walking - but not yet talking - evidence hadn't really been understood. Sherlock might have done better just to drag the small boy along like a rather over-sized shoe from how the kid was holding on.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 17, 2020 11:19:58 GMT -5
Sherlock stared down at the kid.
Well, that hadn’t worked. What exactly was he supposed to do with this? He sighed, somewhat frustrated.
The most important thing by far was preserving the evidence. That was the priority. The question was simply how to do that without upsetting the child, as that would probably compromise evidence. Already the tears were causing problems. He would need to stop crying first of all.
“Ah-!” Sherlock protested at the boy again attached himself to his leg, and he gently pulled him off again, meticulously careful to get as little dirt on himself as possible.
“Alright.” He sighed, glancing around. “You don’t have a clue what I just said, do you? No matter…lets see what we can do”~~
He glanced around again, either checking for help or witnesses. Then he reached down and carefully picked the child up, holding him as far from his person as physically possible. Which was impressively far, actually.
He headed inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Then he headed upstairs, into his study, and set the boy down on the carpet.
“Do not sit.” He ordered. “I need to take pictures, people don’t believe me when I tell them things with no evidence.”
Then he bounced out of the room, searching for a camera.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 18, 2020 0:52:43 GMT -5
Standing in the middle of the room that Sherlock had set him in, the boy had no idea what to do. He did as Sherlock said, for starters, and the brief rewelling of tears stopped. At least for the time being. His head swiveled this way and that, trying to look around the room but generally speaking nothing much was at the height he was, so it all seemed pretty boring.
At least at first look, anyway. But curiosity was blooming in the eyes of the boy and suddenly he seemed really intent on the direction that Sherlock had been going. He wanted to explore the whole room, but his hesitation stopped him. There were other things which had to be done and that was most importantly ... what ...?
He'd come here.
And he'd found who he wanted to find.
But really all he wanted was to get a hug and he just kept being pried off. Maybe he should try again.
But he didn't. Instead he waited in the center of the room.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 20, 2020 15:30:44 GMT -5
Sherlock scrambled for his supplies. Camera, magnifying glass, measuring tape, plastic bags, gloves…anything else? He didn’t think so. He grabbed the supplies and headed back to where the kid was still, surprisingly, waiting for him.
“Oh, you actually listened to me.” He said, surprised.
Then he came closer, slipping on the rubber gloves and opening a plastic bag. “Stay still.” He ordered, sounding a bit more confident now that he knew the boy was capable of listening to him. He scrapped some of the dirt carefully into a bag and sealed it, then used a q-tip to get some of the blood off of the boy’s neck. He put that in a separate bag and sealed it as well, then pocketed it.
“Alright, here we are.” He muttered, standing back. “Stand over by the wall.” The glare from the window would make getting good pictures impossible, but it didn’t occur to him to explain that to the kid. He could have. But he didn’t.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 24, 2020 23:49:28 GMT -5
There was a bit of a complication when you were trying to not-explain to a small boy why he had to do something and also why you were slowly walking around him with cleaning supplies which were not commonly applied to your shirt collar.
He backed away from Sherlock as soon as he was done and proceeded to crawl under the table. He might have been trying to avoid Sherlock all together, but also the rug looked pretty and he thought he saw a book under here. He really just wanted to look around the place and also he wasn't sure why Sherlock was being weird. This seemed like the best option.
He sat under the table, reaching for the nearest objects - a set of shoes, oh these were big! - and turning them over in his hands.
"Why?" he asked softly.
It was the first words he spoken. He glanced at Sherlock when he said them and then back at the shoes.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Oct 17, 2020 9:56:26 GMT -5
Sherlock blinked, startled as the boy crawled under his table. That was not what he had asked him to do. Had he misunderstood somehow? Or was he just not listening anymore?
“Ah.” He said, realizing he had failed to give a reason. “I need to take pictures of you and I need a proper background, of course. What are you doing under the table, by the way?”
He crouched down to get a better look at the child, curious. “You’re evidence.” He told him. “There’s no need to be alarmed. I never let evidence come to any harm.”
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Oct 20, 2020 2:19:10 GMT -5
Huum.
Amico peeked out from under the table.
That sounded promising.
He had very little idea what exactly it meant, but it sounded like Sherlock was going to protect him.
He shuffled out from under the table, dragging the shoes with him. Then he looked up at Sherlock with the same level of suspicious eyes.
"I'm looking at shoes," he said.
He didn't have a pair of his own. Still looking at Sherlock with the look in his eye of a small child who *knew* that it was doing something an adult probably wouldn't like, but wanted to see what would happen anyway, he started to fit one foot into one of the shoes.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 26, 2020 16:02:27 GMT -5
Sherlock watched at the kid came out from under the table, carrying...shoes? That seemed random. What did he want with shoes?
“I can see that,” he said, crouching down to get a better look at the kid. Maybe he would be able to see what he thought hat was trying to accomplish...
“Those won’t fit you.” He added impatiently. “Obviously. You’re much too small.” As if he thought there might be some other reason the kid wouldn’t be able to wear the shoes.
He opened his mouth as the kid began to fit his foot into the shoes, and then he frowned. “What are you doing?” He asked again, because the situation seemed to have changed and he wasn’t sure what to do about that.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Dec 31, 2020 2:15:36 GMT -5
"I'm wearing shoes," said the small boy, as if that should be perfectly obvious. He shuffled his other foot into the shoe that he'd set on the floor and then, once both feet were incased in the item of clothing, the boy sat down.
He looked up at Sherlock and commented, "You're weird. You're not doing anything."
Then the small child looked back at the shoes again, as if this would somehow answer some secret mystery to what he was expected to do.
Sherlock certainly wasn't giving any hints.
"I want help," he said after a second, sniffing.
Then he flopped backwards, laying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. From that position at least, it was possible for him to see the odd stains there.
"I'm tired," he added, as if this would help anything.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Apr 21, 2021 1:29:28 GMT -5
(Boop.)
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Post by mintedstar/fur on May 16, 2021 19:14:18 GMT -5
(Boopish so the necro-monsters don't catch us.)
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on May 22, 2021 15:23:50 GMT -5
Sherlock has to confess this was true. The boy was indeed wearing shoes.
Then, giving up, he sat down on the floor.
“Of course I’m doing something, I’m always doing something,” he replied, gesturing at his head. “I’m thinking.”
He studied him for another long moment, blue eyes critical.
“That’s what I’m thinking about,” he elaborated as the kid spoke again, and he frowned a little, shifting so he could see him better as he lay down. “Helping you. I’ll need details first, of course. What’s your name?”
It occurred to him that he might have started things off with that question, but getting evidence had been the first order of business.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on May 27, 2021 1:00:14 GMT -5
The boy's nose wrinkled. "I can't see you thinking," he complained.
But the child seemed to blanch at the mere thought of telling his name. He looked around, as if expecting any shadow in the room, even the small ones, to be hiding something. He couldn't.
"Amico," he squeaked, like word that bubbled up from his chest was suddenly forced out of his mouth. It wasn't a name, that was clear enough, but he seemed to be using it like it was in this case.
Not in the least bit ready to share his feelings with Sherlock. Not even a little.
But even if that was the case, the small child still seemed to have a goal in mind.
And that was to flop onto his side, wrap his arms around himself, and look like he wanted to go to sleep.
So much for Sherlock's questions.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 7, 2021 0:31:36 GMT -5
“Of course you can’t see me thinking, what are you talking about now?” Sherlock replied, immediately impatient with the obvious comment.
He could tell the name didn’t make the child any calmer. This was the problem with children. Where giving a name might calm one down, the next would be as panicked as if he’d asked them to give a speech in public. Unpredictable things.
“An alias? Alright, then.” He continued, as if he’d been directly told this wasn’t the child’s true name.
He stared as Amico flopped over. And failed to rise. The detective blinked at the small person for a long moment.
Then he said, “Stop that.”
It wasn’t really a command as much as it was an attempt to stop something from happening. Less an order and more an experiment.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jun 13, 2021 9:24:24 GMT -5
It was doubtful that Sherlock wanted the reaction of a tired Amico shuffling a bit across the floor until his head was resting on top of Sherlock's shoe and his arms were around Sherlock's legs, almost like he was trying to use Sherlock as a teddy-bear. This may or may not prove successful when Sherlock was kept in mind, but it was what Amico did, so Sherlock would just have to deal with it. It would seem like the boy was in full mind to fall asleep.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jun 26, 2021 0:12:38 GMT -5
Sherlock looked down. And he kept looking down. This was not what he had expected when he’d gotten up this morning. He stared at the child. He got the distinct impression that he was being used as an item of comfort. He wasn’t sure he approved.
“You’re falling asleep,” he noted, surprise lifting his voice.
He didn’t really know what to do about that.
So he simply sat there, looking at the boy. Maybe he would wake up on his own?
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jul 5, 2021 23:29:07 GMT -5
Amico did not wake up on his own. Instead, he just seemed to hug at Sherlock's leg more and this seemed to be exactly how he intended to spend his time. Never mind the fact that it was very uncomfortable or the fact that this was likely just another very obvious problem for Sherlock.
Then again, what was Sherlock going to do?
Just stand there?
It was almost like a test of wills then, at that point, if that was what he was going to do. Amico seemed keen (if unconscious and unaware of this fact) on winning.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 23, 2021 18:36:22 GMT -5
Sherlock didn’t have any idea how to deal with this problem. He could tell Amico wasn’t going to move. Did that give him the right to move him? He wanted to, but he also felt like he couldn’t, somehow, just do that. Or maybe that was stupid and he just
needed to do it.
He stared at the kid. And kept staring. Hw wasn’t at all sure how to handle this…he didn’t know how to stop him. Finally, he put a hand on Amico’s shoulder, and began to try and push him off.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 1, 2021 8:05:29 GMT -5
This did not go over too well with Amico. He did not want to be pushed away and he did not look like he was about to deal with such mistreatment. So in response, he opened an eye and grabbed hold of Sherlock's leg even tight, clinging to it and looking piteously up at him, wide eyed and clearly trying to express his distaste at this treatment.
"I want to sleep!" he protested. His lip was puffed out in a pout and he looked very unwilling to deal with such a distasteful display of interpretation of his attempt to use Sherlock's foot as a pillow.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 6, 2021 20:43:22 GMT -5
Sherlock, as a genius himself, was good at guessing what people we’re going to do, occasionally before they’d even decided for themself. He was good at figuring out, say, what a criminal was likely to decide to do next, or where a smuggler would hide something, or what sort of person a serial killer liked to kill.
He was therefore in no way surprised that this child had decided to cling to him. He wasn’t. Not even a little bit. He had absolutely seen that coming.
“Yes, but why do you have to sleep on top of me?” he protested, crossing his arms as best he could without falling over backwards. In the end, he had to give it up and support himself again.
“There is a couch right there,” he added, pointing. “I have slept there, so I do know it’s possible.”
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 8, 2021 14:34:02 GMT -5
The response to this was a rather grumpy Amico looking up at Sherlock and sticking out his tongue. He seemed to even more firmly wrap the detective up in a child-equivalent strangle hold and continue to look up at him.
"You're more comfortable than a couch!" he protested, even though that was clearly not going to be the case. "And I waaaaaaaanna!"
Sherlock, as far as Amico was concerned, was the perfect place to be.
And ... maybe, just maybe, made the small boy feel safer. Safer, perhaps, than being alone. He didn't want Sherlock to leave. He wanted the comfort of somebody there. So Sherlock was his prisoner.
"And you're not leaving!" he added, as if Sherlock had given any indication that he was going to.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 10, 2021 17:57:59 GMT -5
Sherlock huffed, but he didn’t try to push Amico off again. It seemed a bit pointless, if the boy was just going to hang onto him like that. A couple years back, he probably would have just tried to pry the child off of him and maybe tie him to the table or something, but now he knew that this would be a somewhat frowned upon method of escape, and his explanation that he was just trying to do his job (which, by the way, was very important and saved lives) and that this child was not even supposed to be here in the first place would go unheard. Graham (Greta? Grog? Gormogon?) would probably get that it hadn’t been malicious, but he still might take Sherlock in on principle. Better to avoid that,
In which case, there wasn’t that much for Sherlock to do.
“I am leaving,” he protested, though he clearly wasn’t. “Just not at this moment. I can’t stay here forever, I’d starve, and so would you. You’d starve faster, by the way.”
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 12, 2021 3:44:45 GMT -5
There wasn't any way that Amico was going to be okay with this. He clung to Sherlock and seemed to take great offense at the possibility of starving.
So he started to cry.
Or maybe whimper might be a better word, since he didn't actually end up producing too many tears over the whole ordeal. What he did manage to do was look up at Sherlock with pure betrayal and heartbreak.
"Don't. Leave!" he whined. He seemed decidedly not willing to take no for an answer.
"I don't want to starve! I don't want you to starve!"
There were certainly far too many tears for this. Far too many.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 24, 2021 14:06:17 GMT -5
Sherlock closed his mouth very quickly, true alarm passing through his eyes as Amico started whimpering. He really, really didn’t know what to do about that. This was exactly why he didn’t interact with children. They always started crying.
“You will starve if you never move, though,” he pointed out, attempting to make his voice do the thing that made children not cry. Soothing? Was that it? How did people do this?
“Don’t worry, you’d die of thirst far sooner than you’d starve,” he added, latching onto the only thing he could think of.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Aug 27, 2021 22:27:09 GMT -5
This clearly didn't help Amico at all. He was no longer looking at Sherlock. He also didn't speak to Sherlock. He just cried into Sherlock's pant leg and didn't engage with him whatsoever.
But no, he was still stubbornly holding onto the detectives pant leg and Sherlock would just have to deal with that, because there was no way that Amico was going to talk after this.
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