milliways_bar | Ye Olde Sunday Multipup Post

Over the mountains, a thunderstorm is gathering; in an hour or perhaps even just thirty minutes, it might be pouring down. But as yet, people are about, among them:

Teja, who is wandering the woods and the lakeside looking for canine activity. So far, he has found the traces of a veritable pack and several humans with them, but somehow he suspects that Buster the Inept was not part of that merry outing. Furthermore, he found two dead demonic rabbits, but they were too far gone for him to see if they were killed by a dog. Also, he doubts that Buster would be able to kill these creatures. When it starts raining, he will make his way back to the bar.
Father Pearse Harman is on the lawn, having afternoon tea complete with scones and cream. He is reading a book with it, and ignoring the weather so far. He is, after all, English.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is two tables over, on the lawn as well, with coffee and drawing utensils. He is drawing dogs in sepia pencil.
Ragnar Lothbrok is in the bar-room itself, ordering things from the bar which he stows into two rather small bags. He has a paper on a table which he looks at from time to time. Apparently, the Viking is planning to leave.
Lady Margolotta is sitting in a dark corner of the bar, far away from the windows, checking things off in a large ledger. The table around it is covered in papers that look like lists.

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"Going through our story a few steps behind me," Hannibal says. "He had just been running after I had turned myself in."

'So he did something to necessitate running?'

Instigated by Hannibal, no doubt.

"He did," Hannibal says. "And so did I."

Jim sighs.

'I don't know if your reticence is because you think it's amusing, or because you think it's clever. More likely, you're trying to be annoying on purpose.'

"My reticence is more of the not counting chickens flavour," Hannibal says. "Sorry to not be any more entertaining than this."

'It's not counting chickens to tell me where he's been, is it? Or are you afraid I'll ruin it for you if I know too much?'

Which, y'know. Is a fair assumption. Professional courtesy is one thing, but it would also be funny to fuck Hannibal over for the sake of a laugh or two.

"The details aren't all that important," Hannibal says, "as long as where he is is not with me."

'Does that mean he's supposed to be not with you at the moment? Or do you mean that the only time that matters is when he is?'

If so, aww. So sweet, Hannibal.

(And Jim relates, even if he won't admit it.)

"I miss him," Hannibal says, "but he needs to run for a bit before he can really come back."

'What's that old cliche about setting someone free, blah blah?'

Jim holds no truck with it. It sounds stupid.

'But I see your point. If he comes back, you know he'll never leave again.'

"He will," Hannibal says. "In my timeline, he already did."

'Well, there you go. Happily ever after, et cetera et cetera.'

Meh.

"I'm not quite there yet," Hannibal says.

'Yes, I know.'

Jim thinks, like, if he went away and then came back, despite some shit going down that was probably quite intense - knowing Hannibal's reputation - then the odds of him going away again are pretty small. But then, maybe Will's trying to bring him down from the inside. Either way, should be a good show.

'But at least he's obviously one step closer.'

"Oh yes," Hannibal says. "It is always so very good to see him. Especially when he comes back after one of his trajectories."

'Happened before, has it? His disappearing.'

Flight risk. Ugh.

"Oh yes," Hannibal says. "That is so Will."

'...failing to see the appeal all over again.'

That would drive him mental. One of the great things about Sherlock is that he's always in London. He shapes the world around him, he doesn't flit in and out of it.

"I should be glad," Hannibal says, smirking.

'Why? Do you think I'd nick him from you if I found him more interesting?'

Nah.

...not that he doesn't think he could, obviously. Jim is nothing if not self-confident.

"You might realise how much more complex and interesting he is than your Sherlock," Hannibal says. "And then you would probably do something worrisome with hour interest in him."

Oh, Hannibal. And this was such a nice chilled conversation too.

Jim's face darkens.

'He's got nothing on Sherlock.'

Still, his tone is relaxed enough.

'if you don't see him as complex and interesting, that's your failure.'

"So we are both happy about who we love, and wouldn't change him for anybody else in the multiverse, warts and all," Hannibal says. "Isn't it grand?"

'Mm. Suppose so.'

Ugh, it all sounds so ordinary. But...it's not, so there it is. There's nothing ordinary about any of them. It's fine.

'As long as we acknowledge that Sherlock doesn't have any warts.'

He's just trolling now, cheeky grin and all. Because of course he knows that Sherlock isn't perfect.

(He does not.)

"I acknowledge that I have never examined him for literal warts, yes," Hannibal says, smirking.

Probably trolling as well.

"Also, the Anna Karenina principle probably applies to couples as well, not only families."

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