AU Week

[mightbeagoodone]

The door to the bar opens to the sound of an audience roaring, "Sher-LOCK! Sher-LOCK!" in unison, and in sweeps Sherlock Holmes.

The latest version of Sherlock Holmes is known as the Gentleman: a tall, slim figure with slicked-back hair and wearing black trousers and waistcoat, a white shirt underneath that is soaked in sweat from the energy he pours out during his concerts. The days of spectacle are past, but Sherlock still lives for his audience.

Even when it leaves him utterly drained, and parched. The bar is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

He sits, says, "Water to start, please," and puts the matching sleek black electric guitar on the stool beside him.

He'll leave the real world behind for a while, gladly. It's fun, but ... well, it's not 1972.



[ooc: Sherlock is also from the Rock Star AU, a few years into their future.]

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

Jim had been across the bar, staring out of the observation window. When the door opens and the roaring breaks through, he is instantly transported to a life he's never not thinking about, even when he tries to pretend he's not. And it doesn't feel weird, it feels right - which is why it's so jarring when he blinks a few times, and the room comes back into focus and it's here, and not there.

Just in his head, he thinks. Even with the Sher-LOCK! Sher-LOCK! They've always screamed that, as well they should.

He stands up and makes a passing attempt at straightening his suit jacket. He's lingered here too long. He needs to go back to normal life, and his attempts at forgetting it all. So he turns on his heel, and...

Sherlock.

The bar disappears. Normal life disappears. The chanting, everything. There's only the air punched out of his lungs, and the bottom dropping out of existence, sending him into freefall.

Sherlock.

[mightbeagoodone]

It takes a moment.

Less than a moment.

Sherlock hasn't even swallowed his first sip of water.

But it's like a scent in the air, or a note plucked on a well-played guitar, and Sherlock gets to his feet and takes the steps toward Jim without even meaning to, without even thinking about it, because it's Jim and it's been so long.

He breathes, "Jim," like he's trying not to sob. He only doesn't take Jim's face in his hands because he remembers at the last moment that it might not be welcome.

[just_cant_lose]

Everything in him wants to step backwards. Get some, any, kind of distance. It's just difficult when everything in him also wants to fling himself forward as fast as humanely possible, and touch the only thing that matters.

So he stays still, blinking like he might cry - he might - and just...trying to process. Sherlock, this close, after all this time spent avoiding this very thing.

'Oh God,' he whispers - to himself, but no one told his mouth that and it's easily audible. 'Oh God.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock stops himself short.

He exhales and forces his hands to his sides. "I ... didn't think I'd see you here."

[just_cant_lose]

'No.'

Bar always did have a sense of humour. Sort of. Jim blinks again and again, and then coughs. He's partly conscious of what he looks like - his suit is now crumpled after a night drinking, and he needs a shave, but he's still wearing the clothes of an office drone.

And here's Sherlock, The Gentleman, looking every inch exactly what he is.

Jim stares down at the floor, his breath suddenly too fast and hard.

'Sorry.'

[mightbeagoodone]

And he's beautiful, even if he's crumpled and unshaven. Sherlock's gaze devours him.

The soft little Sorry makes his heart ache.

"Jim." He takes a deep breath. "Will you have a drink with me? We -- there's so much to catch up on."

[just_cant_lose]

He closes his eyes. There's no point trying to pretend he's not shaking. Sherlock always was too much, and now he's almost unbearable.

'I- - don't know if I can.'

As soon as he says it, he realises there's not a hope of him walking away. He should. He wants to. But he can't.

'...okay.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Okay." He steps back to this stool, and moves the guitar aside. "I was just in concert. I -- I was just having a drink while I decided on some supper. Since I'm here. Some food would be ... good."

He's never this inarticulate. Though the first time he met Jim, he was very nearly so.

[just_cant_lose]

'I heard.'

Everyone heard. Jim self-consciously smooths his tie down, and tries to get himself together. There's not a hope of managing it, but he can try.

'Food. Go ahead.'

He takes a seat, leaving an empty stool between them. He won't be eating - that hasn't changed - but he'll be glad if Sherlock does. It'll be a distraction and save him from that laser gaze.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock laughs a little at himself. "I suppose they did."

Food? What?

While he's busy staring at Jim like he's paradise, Bar pops up a small towel. He takes it with an absent, "Thanks," and pats the sweat from his face. His makeup is much more subtle than in the past, more for the cameras than for self-expression.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim can't look at him. He knows all about The Gentleman - who doesn't? - and the fact he exists, and is so...solo. And-

-his fingers curl into the edge of the bar as he swallows hard. His voice is strained into near-silence as he forces out, 'please stop looking at me like that.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Sorry." He focuses on the bottles behind the bar instead. "I haven't heard a thing from you or about you for years. In my worst moments I've thought you died and no one would tell me."

[just_cant_lose]

He doesn't say how often he's wished that were the truth, or how close he's come to making it happen. But there's no benign answer he can make, so he leaves it alone entirely.

'So,' he says, with the quiet, fake, calm of someone making small talk. 'How have you been?'

[thewidewideworld]

The pretty blonde at one of the booths looks up and smiles, remembering him from last time. Not that he will necessarily recognise her. After all, Sona is a long way from the nervous little music student Sin was at the time.

"Big night?" she asks casually.

{ooc: super slowtime apologies. It's going to be one of those days.)

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock drinks half the glass of water in one go before he answers, and dabs at his face with the towel the bar provides, too.

"Performance in London." He shrugs. It's not Wembley Stadium. Not yet.

[thewidewideworld]

"I'm bound for England soon myself." she shrugs, shifting the papers on the table. Chester. Not that I know where that is yet."

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock smiles a bit. "It's to the west.

"Why are you going there?"

[thewidewideworld]

"It seems I'm an heiress." She already has a slight English accent. "With a manor and an estate waiting. Which sounds romantic but for the mountains of debt that come with it."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Ah... yes, well, that's a common problem for nobility nowadays, it seems. If you can lease the place to a film company for a month or tow, that may help.

"Oh, and congratulations."

[thewidewideworld]

She gives a slightly bitter laugh. "Thank you. I think. I'm really not sure it is a blessing or a curse yet. My mother told me stories of my father as a kind man who passed away a month before I was born. The truth, it would seem, is somewhat less of a fairytale."

She smiles softly at the thought. "Oh, what a good idea. I'd never thought of hiring it out. I don't know what condition it's in yet. For all I know, it's nothing but ruins."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Ruins can make lovely backdrops."

Which is giving him an idea. Music video clips are increasingly common... and he's got a song his label wants him to make a video for...

[thewidewideworld]

"It's been a while since I've done any modelling. Perhaps I can find an agency in England somewhere who might like to use it."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Get in touch with location scouts," Sherlock advises. "They'll keep your place in mind for their projects."

[thewidewideworld]

"Something to consider," she frowns, "once I wade through the legality of being an illegitimate heir. The lawyers dint seem greatly impressed but the fact my mother blackmailed my father for the cost of my education is apparently a form of acknowledgement under some obscure law."

[mightbeagoodone]

"...ah. Even more complicated.

"I suppose it would depend on the termos of your inheritance. I don't know much about law beyond record label contracts."