IMDb flu

[just_cant_lose]

Quite a long time - maybe even a whole night - after this happened, a young Jim Moriarty is back down in the bar. He had meant to go and talk to Loki about what the hell he looked so miserable about, but he looked miserable and Jim couldn't be bothered to deal with that. So he took some work up to his room, and got on with it.

There may have been a sore throat at some point, and possibly a nap. So maybe it's a misnomer to say Jim Moriarty is back down in the bar - Tommy McGann definitely is though, and looking pretty worried about where the hell he's found himself. He didn't decide to kill himself, did he? He's not dead? Jean was not worth committing suicide over; in fact, he's pretty sure once the whole nightmare with the police is sorted out - if it gets sorted out - he might be quite glad he'll never have to see her again.

So anyway. There's a kid chain-smoking at the bar, getting steadily more annoyed about why he can't get a pint. 


[OOC: brief overview of young!Jim's situation here. He's in for one EP only, so older!Jim can get sick after the weekend. I wanted him to experience some of the joys of Milliways for himself, though. :)]

Comments

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock, valiantly, does not make a joke about how cigarettes will stunt Jim's growth.

He does say, "Two pints, please," to the bar and gives one of them to Jim.

(Surely it is Jim. He'd know that scowl anywhere.)

[just_cant_lose]

Sherlock is a clever, clever man.

Tommy just blinks at the pint, and smiles in a way that manages to be friendly and also a bit sarcastic.

'My lucky day?'

His accent is a little rougher than Jim's and while his eyes are smart, they're not as mad. Nor as dead. There's plenty of mischief in them.

[mightbeagoodone]

And the difference is enough to make Sherlock's gaze travel over him, curious and intrigued.

"Long-standing custom," he replies as he takes a seat. "Unless I've mistaken you for someone else."

[just_cant_lose]

'I don't often get taken for someone else. Not many like me around.'

Tommy is not flirting. He's just a cocky little git.

'Thanks, though. Now you get to tell me how you made it appear out of thin air.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"No, decidedly not," mostly to himself.

"I just asked the Bar." He lays his fingertips on the wood. "Are you legal to drink, where you're from?"

[just_cant_lose]

'...I'm twenty five.'

Yeah, no, fuck you random stranger. He knows he looks young, but fuck off.

'Who're you?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Sorry," Sherlock says with some humor, "but you look like a friend of mine who is much younger than that.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. Yours?"

[just_cant_lose]

There's an instant snort. It's not subtle.

'You're Sherlock Holmes? Well, I'm Bruce Wayne. Now we get to fight it out for who's the world's greatest detective.'

Tommy stubs out his fag, and lights another one. Wherever this place is, it's weird> And that person over there is definitely a cop of some sort, and that is an extremely uncomfortable experience.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock has a sip of his pint.

"Nice to meet you, Bruce," is how he decides to handle this.

[just_cant_lose]

'...are you serious?'

What the fuck. Tommy drags his eyes away from the police presence, swallows a bit and attempts to look like he's not nervous. A pint helps, so he drinks some of it.

'Name's Don Diego, actually. Bruce Wayne's just my alter ego. I might as well use, if I'm fucking dead.'

He's starting to think he must actually be dead, because there's no way to explain his presence in a place like this. Not with that window.

[mightbeagoodone]

"So do they call you Don or do they call you Diego?"

It's entertaining, really, watching this boy play alias roulette.

[just_cant_lose]

His eyes go wide, eyebrows raise, a picture of sarcasm. His voice drops to a conspiritorial whisper, low in a Dublin drawl.

'They call me Zorro.'

Tommy likes superheroes.

'I'm only telling you my real name because you bought me a pint.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock laughs.

"Do they? What a clever name... of course, you don't sound like a Spaniard, let alone one from eighteenth-century California."

[just_cant_lose]

'Well, I'd be a bit stupid to give myself away like that, wouldn't I?'

He drags on his cigarette, which are a cheap as hell brand. Tommy is clearly not well off. The clothes he took from the room he woke up in are both a bit upmarket from what he's used to, and much more expensive. He feels weird in them.

'Seriously, what's your real name? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"William," Sherlock says. It's the truth, at least.

[just_cant_lose]

'William.'

He wrinkles his nose. Sherlock is more interesting.

'I'm Tommy. Why'd you think you know me?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"You look like my husband when he was a teenager," Sherlock says mildly.

[just_cant_lose]

...oh. Really? Wow. Tommy pulls a face, then falls back into amused sarcasm.

'I'm no one's husband. And I'm not a teenager. I'm twenty five.'

He said that already, right?

'I've got a - well, I had a girlfriend. I'm not your husband.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Oh, no, I know," Sherlock says. "i'm not going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you upstairs. But that's how I know you."

Twenty-five, really? No wonder Jim had so much trouble establishing himself, if his babyfacedness lasted that long.

[just_cant_lose]

'I'd like to see you try,' he mutters, and stubs his cigarette out forcefully. Sherlock may be taller, but Tommy has a black belt in karate and a hell of a temper behind it.

'You knew your husband when he was a teenager? That's gross. Can you not get locked up for that?'

Posh English people. What can you do.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Well, he wasn't my husband when we were kids."

Fudging the truth juuuuuuust a bit. He doesn't want to freak out this young man, any more than he can help.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh, right.'

That makes more sense! And clears the look of vague disgust off Tommy's face - though it does freeze for a moment when someone in uniform walks by, and he far-too-casually covers his expression by picking his drink up.

'Well, that's fine then. Grand. Why not let blokes marry blokes? Doesn't matter, does it? You can't do it in Ireland - didn't think you could in England either - but I wouldn't really know.'

Lalala, chat chat chat. Everything is fine.

'Though I'd be worried if I were you, and you can't tell him from a random stranger in a pub. Not a basis for long-term marital bliss, I'd say.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"It's a very close resemblance."

He catalogues the boy's reaction to the uniform.

"I wouldn't worry about whatever you're running from here. No outside business."

[just_cant_lose]

'...what?'

Look at this innocent face, William. Sooooo innocent. No idea what you're talking about.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Sherlock is my middle name," Sherlock says, "and if you know my name I gather you know who I am, and what I do best.

"But the important thing is, you're safe here."