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[mightbeagoodone]

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.]

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

Everyone else's honeymoons are indeed stupid, but that's everyone else's problem as far as Jim is concerned.

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.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock strokes Jim's hair absently.

"Perspective," he muses. "If I were a Cubist it wouldn't matter, but one really should learn to walk before one runs."

[just_cant_lose]

Hair stroking is exactly what is called for in this situation.

'I like Cubism. And running is better than walking.'

In general, that is. Not in reality, because running is stupid too.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Metaphor," Sherlock murmurs and gives Jim's ear a caress.

"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."

[just_cant_lose]

'Really? That sounds good.'

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.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock chuckles deeply. "I have studied you from every angle... I could probably draw you from every angle, too."

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.

[just_cant_lose]

'There needs to be more angles so you can study me from them too. I wouldn't want you to get bored of same old view.'

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.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock caresses his ear again.

"You are beautiful," he murmurs. "From every angle."

He picks up Jim's hand and kisses his knuckles.

[just_cant_lose]

'You're so right.'

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.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Yes, dear." Jim said that last time. He'll probably say it again.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim cracks an eye open to scan for deception and lies - obviously just for show, because everyone knows Sherlock is a lying liar who lies - and harumphs quietly before closing it again.

'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.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"So, no volcanoes when we get to Hawaii, then," Sherlock says.

[just_cant_lose]

'...I quite like volcanoes. We can look at them from ground level though, can't we?'

'Or helicopters. I can fly a helicopter. There's that.'

[the_cupbearer]

The watercolor pages are interesting: enough so to distract Ganymede from the weaving he's doing (wire into a spanish ring knot, currently around his thumb) as he watches Sherlock flip. It's not obvious, but the wire he's working with keeps changing colors, much like a mood ring. Currently, it's turning a reddish purple where he's touched it.

"Those are quite pretty paintings. Unhappy with them?" he asks.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Thank you," Sherlock says, and looks up with a faint smile.

"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.

[the_cupbearer]

"That's the case with most learned things," he says with a little shrug. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sherlock Holmes. I'm also from Earth, though a few years after you. 2018."

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."

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock takes the ring and looks it over. It's quite pretty, but--

"The stone just changes color according to body temperature." He hands the ring back.

[the_cupbearer]

"It does," Ganymede affirms. "The wire does as well, though. I may make another with no stone, see if it works as well."

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."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Do you prefer being called Ben?" William Sherlock Scott Holmes believes in the importance of one's chosen name.

[the_cupbearer]

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Not here. Here is one of the very few places I can still be called my birth name without people thinking it's an insult."

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock nods and says, "Nice to meet you, then, Ganymede."

[the_cupbearer]

He hesitates, and smiles slowly but genuinely. "Thank you."

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."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Very recently. Last week." He looks wry.

"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.

[the_cupbearer]

"For last week, those are quite incredible," Ganymede amends, brows lifting. He's impressed.

"What kind of artist is your husband?" he asks.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Murals, mostly. He's not a professional artist, though, he's actually--" He stops and laughs. "He's a professional criminal, but he could do anything he set his mind to, really."