Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
workaphilic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2012-05-31 12:12 am
workaphilic) wrote in paradisalogs2012-05-31 12:12 am
Entry tags:
I know exactly what I want and who I want to be;
Who: Sherlock Holmes & Arthur Pendragon
What: Two literary legends having a chat, no big deal.
When: Afternoon of the 30th.
Where: Some cafe in town.
Rating: PG?? PG-13 FOR TWO DOUCHEBAGS IN A CAFE??
This cafe is the least offensive of all the ones on this block. Too bright, but spacious enough to accommodate a lunch rush without getting cramped. There are tables outside, by the window, intended for brief chats like this one.
He's not hungry. (Already ate, bacon sandwich from down the street.) Coffee, black, two sugars.
Not really his forte, directionless socialisation, but he's been meaning to have a chat with Arthur Pendragon for some time. (Older resident, beneficiary (victim?) of one of the castle's revivals. Very interesting, very worthwhile.) Might as well take the opportunity as it presents itself.
John had mentioned him once or twice (or more). Coma patient, a few months ago. Something, something. Wasn't really paying attention except for the name. (Sorry, John.) But inexplicable head injuries: one of the castle's favourite tools. Could be anything, or nothing.
In other words, not the worst turn the afternoon could have taken.
He sips and makes a face; too sweet. "I was under the impression two was a very clear unit of measure." He sets it to the side. Rueful half-complaint, attempt at commiseration. Small talk is simple when he wants it to be. "But apparently not."
What: Two literary legends having a chat, no big deal.
When: Afternoon of the 30th.
Where: Some cafe in town.
Rating: PG?? PG-13 FOR TWO DOUCHEBAGS IN A CAFE??
This cafe is the least offensive of all the ones on this block. Too bright, but spacious enough to accommodate a lunch rush without getting cramped. There are tables outside, by the window, intended for brief chats like this one.
He's not hungry. (Already ate, bacon sandwich from down the street.) Coffee, black, two sugars.
Not really his forte, directionless socialisation, but he's been meaning to have a chat with Arthur Pendragon for some time. (Older resident, beneficiary (victim?) of one of the castle's revivals. Very interesting, very worthwhile.) Might as well take the opportunity as it presents itself.
John had mentioned him once or twice (or more). Coma patient, a few months ago. Something, something. Wasn't really paying attention except for the name. (Sorry, John.) But inexplicable head injuries: one of the castle's favourite tools. Could be anything, or nothing.
In other words, not the worst turn the afternoon could have taken.
He sips and makes a face; too sweet. "I was under the impression two was a very clear unit of measure." He sets it to the side. Rueful half-complaint, attempt at commiseration. Small talk is simple when he wants it to be. "But apparently not."
no subject
It's an area of conversation that they share. "Perhaps, next time it would be best to get it to go, and take a walk instead."
no subject
He takes a long sip of his drink and squints through the window into the cafe. "Quality won't change whether I'm walking or sitting. Next time it might be best to simply bring my own."