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Out by the Caribbean inlet, Sherlock Holmes is taking advantage of the warm water and mild weather.

(He loves London to the last beat of his heart, but sometimes even he needs a little sun and splashing around.)

[ooc: NSFW shenanigans in the Jim-Sherlock thread.]

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"My flatmate likes to see what people are saying about us." He shrugs--other peoples' opinions are boring. "I prefer the Times. Much less idiocy."

"Does your flatmate insist in making a record of your cases?" Hastings was always reading the accounts of various mysteries, often out loud. So Poirot has to wonder about other possible similarities.

"Yes. It's a kind of public diary called a blog. It helps us make a living, anyway."

A blog? English words are so strange.

"I would never let Hastings publish. Though I suspect with my passing, he will reconsider. Perhaps approach my friend the novelist about editing his notes." He does hope Hastings approaches Ariadne. So she can tell him to stop.

"He'd already started the blog before we met," Sherlock explains. Sort of. It had just been John's picture and an introduction until Shelrock happened to him.

"He was an aspiring writer? Hastings was not." Hastings was, prior to meeting Poirot all those many years ago, not much of anything.

"He was an army Doctor until he got invalided home," Shelrock says. "I think the blog unleashed some unsuspected talent in him, though he does tend to abuse exclamation points."

"It would seem you are copying me, Monsieur Holmes. While Hastings was not a doctor, he was in the army and was invalided home as well." Poirot gives a bit of a grin, knowing that sometimes veterans can get as bored in civilian life as detectives.

"I assure you, Monsieur Poirot, it's purely unintentional if I am." He grins back.

"I suspect that detectives need someone to help them from time to time. To do the legwork."

"Or to be a sounding board."

The legwork is half the fun.

Not for Poirot. At least not as he got older.

"Even if that sounding board gets the facts right but the meaning of the facts wrong."

"Talking things out helps me think," Sherlock replies with a shrug. "My flatmate's assistance has been invaluable at times."

"Ah, that is where we differ. I certainly like to put the pieces together, but more often than not, I simply need time to think." Hastings, God bless him, can be a bit of a bore at the worst moments.

"Time never hurts, either."

Time, quiet, a violin, a sounding board, a nicotine patch or three -- Sherlock has a great many things that help him think, when you get down to it.

"Assuming we have it. Thought I find that when there is a need to act fast, I am at my best." Modesty is not and never will be part of his DNA.

"Mm," Sherlock agrees. "Like having a countdown of ten seconds before a bomb goes off in which to discover why a painting is a fake."

Modesty? Nah. The frailty of genius and all that.

Poirot raises his eyebrows at that. "More a case where a man will hang if I do not find the real killer in two weeks' time. But that does sound...challenging." A bomb? Not Poirot's thing.

"It was," Sherlock says. "Five cases in two days. My nemesis likes to keep me on my toes."

Though the campaign of distraction seems to be working. Moriarty hadn't made anyone explode since before he went to prison, anyway.

Edited 2016-07-26 00:46 (UTC)

"He is still at large? Then I wish you the best in hunting him down." Not the best of luck, though. Poirot does not believe in luck.

"He's currently in Belmarsh Prison," Sherlock says. "On remand while he awaits trial for breaking into the Tower of London."

Which isn't exactly what he did. What he did, exactly, still makes no sense at all.

"The Tower of London? That is the criminal most audacious! Surely he knew he could not succeed." The name of the prison is not familiar, but Poirot might admit he doesn't know the name of every prison.

"I don't think succeeding was the plan," Sherlock murmurs, steepling his fingers under his chin a moment. "He didn't even try to leave."

"I cannot fathom such things. Criminals who seek to taunt...ah, but then, I have left the world and it is no longer my concern." Which is to say, he might relish the challenge but has let such things go. Perhaps.

"My nemesis is quite unlike anyone else I've dealt with before."

Which is why Sherlock finds him interesting.

"Though perhaps it's for the best, to let it go."

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