milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jim has been rather enjoying spending weeks being moody and depressed in his suite, mainly because Sherlock's up there to make sure he's not actually all that moody and depressed. Bloody boyfriends, and their way of making life better. Jim would grump about that if he weren't pleased by it.

He's only in the bar now because his favourite distraction is asleep and anyway, they need food. Jim puts in a large order and, on a whim, asks for a current newspaper from their world. Bar provides an iPad with various headlines, and he scrolls through until he hits upon the news that NASA has discovered a solar system where life might have evolved.

He forgets about the food, and pretty much everything else for a while. Eventually he wanders over to the Window, still reading, and then just sits looking out at the explosions.

(The ice cream he bought will be melting all over the Bar at some point, so if anyone wants free food he's probably not going to object, or even notice.)

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"No, it's actually very specific," the priest says. "We have vampires."

'So?'

His point stands. Worlds cannot be saved, it doesn't matter what lives on them at any particular time.

'I doubt you're the sole person responsible for holding back the tides of darkness. Though if the entire Catholic Church has become some sort of righteous army, defending against hordes of rising undead, you'll capture my interest.'

"No, it is a secretive joint-venture between the Vatican and the British Government," Harman says, deadpan.

As if that was the most normal thing to be part of. After all, this is Milliways.

Jim nods. That makes total sense to him.

'You don't know a man named Mycroft Holmes, do you?'

This would be exactly his bag.

"Not in my actual world," Father Harman says.

'...ahhh, another one with Knowledge.'

Jim widens his eyes theatrically, and grins.

'Well, that rather takes the fun out of this conversation from my point of view.'

"Not exactly," Harman says. "Shouldn't you all be from the late 19th century?"

'Originally, yes. So I'm told.'

He looks entirely unconcerned.

'But that's nothing to do with me.'

"So if anybody calls you the Napoleon of crime, will you laugh at them, or does it get boring?" Harman asks.

'Oh no, I like that one.'

If there were anyone more convinced of his greatness in the world, it would be Napoleon. Jim considers himself in good company.

Besides, it's how Sherlock thinks of him. How would he not like it?

'Which doesn't mean I wouldn't laugh at them.'

Obviously.

"And are you a professor as well?" the priest asks.

'God, no.'

Bleurgh. He pulls a face.

'That would be incredibly boring. I've no patience for teaching.'

No patience for lesser minds.

'Is this the part where I get righteous judgement? I doubt it, looking at you, but that would be very disappointing. Let's see if you can do better than the priests I grew up with.'

Harman smiles.

"Why is committing crimes better than solving them?"

'Ohhhh, you're going with let's make him examine his motives. Interesting. Are you hoping to inspire a moral epiphany?'

Good luck with that. Jim grins, and signals a rat so they can get drinks.

'What'll you have, Father? Vodka and line for me, thanks.' This last to the rat, before he waves his hand in a vague gesture, and says, 'it's more fun, obviously. Why run around cleaning up someone else's mess? I'm not a chaser.'

"A glass of red wine, please," Harman says, settling back in his seat. "And no, I am simply hoping to broaden my own horizon."

'Oh? Were you thinking of getting into the business?'

Deepen his understanding of motivation? Also good luck with that. Jim is rarely honest.

"Who knows?" Harman says, smiling with a shrug.

No point in arguing this.

Edited 2017-02-27 23:07 (UTC)

'No, you're not.'

Couldn't be more obvious. Jim shrugs, and flops back in his chair.

'Well then, what shall we discuss? What's your stance on original sin, Father?'

"The fatal flaw in creation," Harman says, "an early version of entropy, really. Definitely not to be taken personally."

'Oooh, a progressive. Maybe I like you after all.'

His eyes rake up and down him. Harman is handsome, in a stern kind of way.

'But it does rather go against the basis of faith for ninety percent of your people.'

"It does," Harman says. "I can't wait for the more progressive pope the newspapers from the future promise me. Originally from my order, it seems."

'You can't mean Benedict, surely. He's the current one in my time.'

And not particularly progressive. Quite the opposite, in many ways.

"Benedict? That is Ratzinger, right?" Harman says. "Oh no, God forbid! I mean Francis, his successor."

'Eh. Hasn't happened yet, and I'll never see it.'

Therefore, it's unimportant. Not that it was important before.

'It'll be a shame if he cleans the church up, won't it? I made a lot of money out of priests, one way or another. And so much satisfaction in them, you know?'

"That is a stable of Augias that would take centuries to clean up completely," Harman says. "But he will make a good start on some eyesores, if I can believe the newspapers from the future."

Pause.

"Mind you, they claim that a very silly reality TV show host would become president of the US, so they might come from some bizarro world."