reach deep down within, but the pathways twist and turn;

[workaphilic]

Who: Sherlock Holmes & Irene Adler
What: Mr Holmes, Ms Adler, and their unique takes on emotions.
When: Afternoon of the 21st.
Where: One of the labs in the clinic.
Rating: PG-13 for now, but it's Irene, so I'll edit as necessary.

[He needs to know.

It's both infuriating and exhilarating, the lack of understanding. Paradisa is rife with it; hopelessly boring and astoundingly interesting all at the same time. (An annoying, intriguing paradox.) It was fun before, an incomplete jigsaw that (barely) kept him from going mad with the static. But this is different. Line crossed. (Won't tolerate this sort of game.)

He's getting complacent. That word again; really is everywhere these days. He needs to dig deeper, look closer, know more. (Another poor attempt at communication, Paradisa? A warning to keep his edges sharp?)

He doesn't have a full specimen, just incomplete samples he was able to nick here and there during the chaos. It's enough, though. More than enough, for him. So he slips into the labs during times he knows John won't catch him, sits with the equipment and works. Thinks. Understands, some. (Not enough.)

Preventative measures, let's call it.]

Comments

[chastise]

[It doesn't take long to find him. The clinic is only so big, and the figuring out where he'd go, was relatively easy. The part she supposes, that mildly surprises her, is that John isn't with him.

It's more telling than he likely intended it to be, had he known there was anyone paying attention. She'd kept her distance for a reason, with the unexpected arrival of someone else from little old London. She's quiet, with the door, no use upsetting what he's doing, but she steps more deliberately on her heels as she continues her slow, trek in.

If he wasn't immediately aware of someone entering, he certainly heard her coming. She leans against the table, settles into the silence, and waits]

[workaphilic]

[He looks up when she comes in. It's barely there, just a flicker of his eyes from the microscope to her and back again -- but then, nothing is "barely there" when it comes to them, is it?

(Always more interesting when Ms Adler is involved.)

He's silent for a good long while. When she doesn't leave, he sighs, deliberately, and turns up the magnification.]

I'm busy. Could be a while.

[chastise]

Waiting is something we're both good at doing.

[Wouldn't you agree? She was expecting that, it wasn't as if he made anything easy. Not that she's complaining, however, she'd have been through with this a lot sooner, if it wasn't what she wanted. She is however, going to tip and block out some of that lovely light source you've got going on there. She just needs that one opening, dear. Play nice.]

[workaphilic]

[It blacks out half of his sample. He rolls his eyes not-so-subtly, but instead of leaning away from the microscope, he reaches over to shift the slide so that the portion he's interested in is back in the light. This is one experiment he won't be distracted from, apparently.]

Excellent time for you to prove that.

[Gonna have to work for it, girl.]

[chastise]

You have never complained before.

[Her timing has always been impeccable. She showed up just when you needed something interesting, bothers you when you least want her too, which always ends up being when you need it most. Get used to it, dear.

She does nothing for another minute, other than start tapping an annoyingly even beat on the leg of his chair with her foot, and then...Just as she stops, she starts to tip the microscope]

[workaphilic]

[He makes a noise close to a growl in the back of his throat and catches the microscope with his free hand, pressing back just enough to keep it upright. But he keeps himself lined up with the eyepiece.]

This is sensitive equipment, I hope you realize.

[chastise]

[Her lips quirk up slowly, into a soft grin. She simply applies a lot more pressure, moving her other hand to try and start to pull the slide out. She's clearly not going to deal with you not paying a proper bit of attention to her. Might as well give in]

It would repair.

[workaphilic]

[It's the slide that gets him. He doesn't actually care about the microscope (it would, after all, repair), but the sample is important, essential. He supports the microscope with one hand and reaches out to grasp her wrist with the other.

He doesn't say anything, but at least his eyes are on her now. You wanted his attention, Miss Adler, you have it.]

[chastise]

[When she has it, she slides the sample back into place with the tips of her fingers, carefully and with little fuss. She certainly wasn't going to harm it, but knowing when and how to push is a talent.

She returns his look evenly, no smug smile, no teasing laugh. There's a tightness around her eyes, she's sure he might have trouble sussing out. Or maybe, she's simply not giving him enough credit, with the gaps in time.

Irene twists her wrist enough to curl her fingers around his in turn, tugging to leave him open. She pushes off the work table and reseats herself, neatly into his lap, a soft lean against his arm. There's no flirtation, no seduction in the move, and she turns back to the microscope]

What have you learned?

[workaphilic]

[He freezes up at the sudden invasion of his personal space -- just a slight tensing of muscle, not noticeable to the average observer. (But she's not average, is she.)

He sits stubbornly still like that for a few moments.... and then the tension gradually eases out of him. His arms snake around her -- an equally innocent, nonsensual touch -- to readjust the slide in the microscope. He needs to finish his work for the day, but she's nothing if not persistent. Might as well just work around her.

(That's it, that's all. The work, the work, the work.)

When he answers, it's in a detached, clinical sort of tone; but the resistance is definitely gone for now.]

Very potent poison, obviously. Structure is uncommon, but not completely unfamiliar to me. [humorlessly:] Would probably be popular if it was lethal faster.