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[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim wanders into the bar from out back, humming under his breath, leading Buster Bonehead, and looking very amused. 

Really, it shouldn't be allowed for anyone to look that pleased with themselves.


Bonehead has his bat in his mouth, but he keeps dropping it and turning in circles, before seeming to notice it and pick it up again. Jim slouches into a booth and ties him to the table leg, where he proceeds to lie down and whine, then start licking the floor.


Jim rolls his eyes, and orders a Caesar salad for dinner. He'd prefer to go home, but that might involve cooking. Gross.

Comments

[notyourproblem]

Jim Moriarty looking this pleased with himself is never a good sign of anything. Although, perhaps as long as he's looking pleased with himself here, there's a chance that whatever irritating thing he's doing will stay here, and not become Mycroft's problem.

"Dare I ask?" he says as he approaches.

For a fleeting second, he considers sitting, until he spots the dog. He wrinkles his nose at the creature and makes sure he doesn't get too close, lest it get dog particulates all over him.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh darling, you can ask me anything.'

THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER. Jim's general amusement swings wildly into outright glee, and he chuckles at the look on Mycroft's face.

'He doesn't bite.'

Pause.

'Also; no. Probably not.'

[notyourproblem]

"I never took you as a dog person."

Especially a dog like this one. Why is it licking the floor? Gross.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh, I'm not. I'm just looking after him for a friend, who finds himself recently deceased. And I have another friend who's quite fond.'

Of dogs? Of this dog? Of Jim?

Who knows?

'But how are you, Mr Holmes? Found your feet yet?'

[notyourproblem]

Hmm. Of course there's a dead person involved. When isn't there?

Ugh.

"Surely, we've progressed past such formalities?"

Mycroft finally sits, but not at Jim's booth, and nowhere near the dog. There's a nearby table, which he commandeers for himself. It's far enough away from Jim and the dog, but close enough to be able to still engage in a civil conversation.

[just_cant_lose]

What about uncivil conversation?

'Welllll, I suppose you have had me beaten to a pulp, and were probably watching on your little screens when they stripped me naked. So I suppose so.'

A pause, and a smirk.

'Mike.'

[notyourproblem]

Rude. Mycroft isn't sure if he wants to roll his eyes or sneer. He winds up doing neither, choosing instead to pretend he didn't hear that. Giving Jim a reaction would only make him worse.

"All routine, as I'm sure you already know."

Well, routine as far as people like Jim Moriarty are concerned. As Jim also probably already knows.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh, I'm counting myself lucky, dear. Considering the alternative.'

His eyebrows raise to go with the smirk, and he picks up his strawberry daiquiri in order to proper enjoy its fruity goodness.

[notyourproblem]

Mycroft wonders if Jim thinks his little show actually makes him uncomfortable. He's sure it must make some people uncomfortable, or else Jim wouldn't do it.

Or maybe he would. Who knows? Mycroft doesn't really care.

"So, go on then. You seem to be revelling in something. I'm just dying to know what." He says this with as little inflection as possible.

[just_cant_lose]

'Mike. Come on, now.'

He pulls a massive sadface, and shakes his head.

'Since when has simply asking me ever got you anywhere?'

Jim puts on every show for his own amusement, Mycroft should know that by now. he has to get his kicks somewhere, and Sherlock is not currently available.

[notyourproblem]

Mycroft continues to ignore Jim's use of that horrible nickname. It was bound to come about sooner or later, but honestly.

"One can always hope," he says.

Though, if Jim isn't just itching to give some sort of hint, then it probably isn't anything that's going to have anything to do with Mycroft. Which is good.

Not good for whoever it does involve, but good for Mycroft is always the best option.

[just_cant_lose]

'I never knew you were an optimist. Look at us, getting to know each other in a non-illegal-prison situation.'

Jim is not itching to divulge this particular tidbit, because he only shows off on particular jobs for particular reasons. If Mycroft wants to get him bursting to talk, he's happy to put one over on him and then brag about it.

'Soooooooo. How's your lovely sister? I miss her, you know. Such a pity we didn't have more time.'

[notyourproblem]

That gets a very tired-sounding sigh.

"Believe me, that's a good thing."

Good for everyone; not just Mycroft.

[coral_sandhu]

"Dumbles!"

Coral runs over to Buster, to give him snuggles.

"Where've you been, boy?!" she asks, wrapping her arms around him.

[just_cant_lose]

Oh, hello small child. Jim's eyebrows go up, from his position of sitting sideways on the bench, pushing salad around a plate with his right hand and sucking daiquiri from a tall glass held in the other. He's dressed like he's ready for the beach, and appears very happy with life just now.

'Caaaaaaareful,' he sings out, softly. 'Old Boney isn't feeling too well today.'

And indeed, 'Boney' is unsettled and whiny, licking the floor constantly and not paying the hug any attention at all.

[coral_sandhu]

Coral looks around.

"Then we have to tell Mr Warfstache." she says. "He's his daddy."

[just_cant_lose]

'Not at the moment, he's not.'

This is one of the Sandhu children, isn't it? Has he seen her around? Probably.

[coral_sandhu]

"Then who did he put as Dumbles' guardian?" Coral asks. "After we weren't allowed to do it any more."

She keeps making gentle, reassuring noises to Buster.

"Has he been eating things he shouldn't? He's got a special diet."

[just_cant_lose]

'Me.'

Buster pays no attention to her, and starts pawing at one of his ears as he continues to lick. Jim drops a leg off the bench, and pokes him with his toe.

'Stop that, Boney, we've got company. And no,' he adds, to the girl, 'he's been eating even better. My boyfriend took him to a vet.'

There is nothing to say that this vet was any better than the vet Wilford took him to, but it was definitely a second opinion.

[coral_sandhu]

"Oh. What did the vet say?" Coral asks. "And what's your name?"

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm Jim.'

And he looks as friendly as can be, if a bit distant and uninterested in the dog.

'And you're Coral, I'd guess. The vet said he needed special food that would help his digestion, so that's what he's been getting.'

He doesn't know more than that. Sherlock's been doing all the looking-after, because like hell is Jim going to bother himself.

[coral_sandhu]

"Yes." Coral says.

"But why does he look sick today? We looked after him for weeks and he never looked like this, even when he got into Fry's Wotsits and ate the whole bag."

[just_cant_lose]

'Who knows? He's a dog, I can't ask him.'

Damnit, now he wants Wotsits. He hasn't had them since the early nineties.

'He'll be all right. If he can survive getting hit by a car and licking everything raw, he can cope with whatever this is.'

Jim gets the feeling he's going to be a drag at home for a while. Sorry, Sherlock.

[coral_sandhu]

Coral scritches Buster behind the ears.

"I don't mean this in a rude way, but are you a burglar?" she asks Jim.

[just_cant_lose]

'Do I look like a burglar?'

He looks like he's just stepped off a beach, if you don't ask too many questions about the yellowing bruise on his face.

'And I'm not sure there's any way to ask that politely.'