(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
In contrast to recent appearances, Jim looks entirely normal today. Benign, in fact. He's dressed in slacks, a white shirt, and blue jumper; his hair's tidy, he's wearing glasses, and there's not a speck of blood in sight. He walks to the bar with a book under his arm, and surveys the room with calm eyes as he orders a coffee.

'And give me the headlines for the day after my arrival, please. The day of, as well.'

Bar obliges, and Jim can soon be found sitting in an armchair by the fire, engrossed in a copy of The Sun. The headline screams:

SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS

There's a picture of Sherlock next to it. Behind the open pages, Jim is grinning. Like, a lot. It really was a beautiful game.



[OOC: Brief note on playing with Jim can be found here. Please peruse if your pup has the capability to sense life-or-death in someone, and you don't mind the vaguest of spoilers for his canon.]

Comments

[likeroaringlions]

Oh look, it's Jim--Old(er) Jim--with one his papers, looking even more pleased with himself than usual. William's drawn over in spite of himself, and tries to see what's so wonderful. "Another brilliant success, is it?"

[just_cant_lose]

Jim folds half of the newspaper down - the back pages; he's not ruining the front one - to bestow the grin on William without restrictions.

'The most brilliant, if I say so myself.'

'Hello, William.'

[likeroaringlions]

Yes, that's a grin all right. It distracts, for a moment, from his craning his neck to try to see the page Jim's reading. "What's it...'fake genius?'" It's all he can make out from here.

[just_cant_lose]

He puts it down so William can see, and invites him to read with a wave of his hand.

'My boyfriend.'

The story outlines what the press believes to be true. That Sherlock invented James Moriarty to make himself look clever, had him stand trial for stealing the Crown Jewels, among other things, and was then revealed to be fake by the actor playing the role of Jim. And then killed himself.

[likeroaringlions]

William shuffles awkwardly over to Jim's side to read from a better and not-so-upside-down angle. And frowns as he reads. And frowns some more. "Jesus Christ," is all he says at first. "Jesus Christ. So all that...all that building up, stealing paintings and England's fucking crown, so he could figure it out..."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim grins more.

Yep.

[likeroaringlions]

He re-reads. The language is familiar enough that you can skim over a few sentences before realizing you've missed the sense of it all. But no, it still comes out to a dead Sherlock.

"...Hard on your friends, aren't you, then. Fucking hell."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim shrugs, languid.

'He deserved it. And I didn't do anything to him I didn't do to myself.'

Fair's fair.

[likeroaringlions]

"But you didn't ruin your own..." Reputation? William bites his lip and thinks about it again. Right. Right, no more clever criminal whatever-he-was-calling-himself. "What'd he do to deserve it?"

[just_cant_lose]

Exactly. No more James Moriarty.

'Existed.'

He picks up his coffee, and takes a calm sip.

'Was clever enough to be worth noticing.'

[likeroaringlions]

"Don't really do friendship, do you." He can't exactly feel disappointed or disillusioned by that, but there's something awfully bleak about it anyway.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim looks vaguely confused.

'I told you, he's my boyfriend.'

And not just in his head, either. That's better than friendship, right?

[likeroaringlions]

William laughs uncomfortably. "Bit dead to be a boyfriend now, though."

Too late to tag in?

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is heading to the bar, his tablet touched under his arms. He spots the photos and headline and blanches a little.

Not at all! :D

[just_cant_lose]

Jim puts his coffee down, and narrows his eyes at that reaction. He's met this one, once. What was he called? Oh, yes.

'Hello. Sinric, isn't it?'

Jim had sounded English last time they spoke, and had almost appeared normal up until he became unsettling and Sinric beat a hasty retreat. Now he's very Irish, and while he looks benign, there's no attempt to hide the sharpness of his eyes.

[thewidewideworld]

"Hello." He manages a small smile. "Yes, and you're Jim, yes?"

It's been over three years for Sinric so the wandering accent doesn't trouble him overly but he's still guarded.

[just_cant_lose]

'That's right.'

Ooh, someone still looks nervous.

'Did you want to read?'

[thewidewideworld]

"Thank you but no. I..." He glances at the page again. "It's just startling to see such things."

[just_cant_lose]

'Especially when it happens to a friend of yours?'

He half-smiles - which sort of ruins the benign appearance, but he's not invested in it anyway - and picks a cigarette up.

'You look older.'

[thewidewideworld]

"Just so." He nods tightly.

He shrugs, "It's been some time for me. More than three years have passed since the door opens to me."

[just_cant_lose]

He eyes pull down over Sinric, wondering what on earth Sherlock finds interesting about this one.

'He deserved it.'

He doesn't care how long he's been away, or why, which will probably surprise no one.

[thewidewideworld]

There's a flash of anger in Sinric's eyes, swiftly smothered.

He pulls his face and posture into a mask of expressionless calm as he stands. "Will you excuse me?"

He turns to go.

[just_cant_lose]

'If I must.'

He picks up his coffee.

'Or you could tell me why you believe he didn't.'

[thewidewideworld]

There's another flash of passion in Sinric's eyes but he keeps it off the rest of his face. "I'm not part of your game." He asks coldly. "I'm not interested in playing."

[just_cant_lose]

He turns the paper around, and spreads his hands.

'There is no game. It's done. And I'm not playing with you, because why would I bother?'

Another half-smile, lazy and not at all benign.

'Besides, he's already forgiven me. If he can get over it, I'm sure you can.'

Did Sinric not realise Sherlock's as mental as he is? Well. Almost.