Sherlock Holmes (
mightbeagoodone) wrote in
milliways_bar2018-06-22 03:17 pm
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It's a pity everyone's honeymoon isn't like that of Sherlock and Jim Moriarty-Holmes.
Truly.
Sherlock has been teaching himself to paint in watercolors, and on their last stop produced several pages that he is now flipping through and frowning at, caught between being pleased with what he's made and knowing how much room there is for improvement.
[ooc: Open all weekend.
If there is something Sherlock should observe and deduce about your character, please comment here. Comments are screened.]
Truly.
Sherlock has been teaching himself to paint in watercolors, and on their last stop produced several pages that he is now flipping through and frowning at, caught between being pleased with what he's made and knowing how much room there is for improvement.
[ooc: Open all weekend.
If there is something Sherlock should observe and deduce about your character, please comment here. Comments are screened.]

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Leaving said honeymoon to make an appearance in Milliways is also stupid, but a necessary pretence. It's more bearable when Sherlock's here too. Jim flops down next to him, and puts his head in his lap.
Better.
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"Perspective," he muses. "If I were a Cubist it wouldn't matter, but one really should learn to walk before one runs."
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'I like Cubism. And running is better than walking.'
In general, that is. Not in reality, because running is stupid too.
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"I like Cubism too. But you knew that." His lovely Picasso painting puts proof to that.
"Perhaps I should study Picasso more. The portrait of you I'd like to do seems heavily influenced by his style in my mind's eye."
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Jim is a fan of Picasso. He likes things that are bizarre and beautiful at the same time. Look at Sherlock.
'I would look particularly hot in the Cubist style. You could focus on my eyes.'
Beat.
'One of them, anyway. And it would probably be at the end of my arm - but it'd look great.'
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He'll call it Portrait of a genius at rest, perhaps. If Jim is at rest. It seems to Sherlock that a true portrait of Jim Moriarty would be of a man in movement.
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He squirms his head back towards Sherlock's fingers, because his ear wants that caress again, please.
'But if you can draw me from every angle, you should. I'm very pretty.'
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"You are beautiful," he murmurs. "From every angle."
He picks up Jim's hand and kisses his knuckles.
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He smiles - beautifully - and gets comfortable in his lap.
'I'm tired. You've hiked me out. I'm never doing it again.'
At least until there's somewhere else Sherlock wants to go.
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'At least think of something you want to do that doesn't involve mountains next time. There must be tourist things on flat land somewhere.'
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'Or helicopters. I can fly a helicopter. There's that.'
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"Those are quite pretty paintings. Unhappy with them?" he asks.
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"I'm just learning. They seemed fine when I made them, but as I look at them again, I can only see how much more I have to learn.
"Sherlock Holmes. Earth, 2014."
His eyes flick to the wire, and an eyebrow arches. Interesting.
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Ganymede smiles as he notices the interest in the ring, and slides it off with its wire tail held carefully to hold it out to Sherlock. "It's a mood ring. For a friend."
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"The stone just changes color according to body temperature." He hands the ring back.
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He rather likes the idea. "Forgive me, I didn't give you my name. Ganymede, though you can call me nearly anything you'd like. Most people in my world call me Ben."
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Few people actually take him up on the name, even when he gives it. "When did you start painting with watercolors? you spoke as if it was quite recently."
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"My husband is a talented artist. I'd like to paint a portrait of him, so I'm learning various techniques before I attempt something that important."
If he sounds like a twitterpated newlywed, that's exactly what he is.
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"What kind of artist is your husband?" he asks.
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Oooops! Sorry!
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