(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's been in and out of the bar over the last week, in various guises. Tourist, businessman - a normal businessman, in a suit he wouldn't generally be seen dead in - student, professor, regular Joe of indeterminate means.

One day he stops for a conversation with Bar, perfectly polite, after which he takes the remote for the biggest TV and flicks it to a certain channel. A grin spreads over his face, and he switches it off before taking a huge wad of cash out of his pocket and placing it on the bar.

'Put it in your fund.'

Then he goes upstairs, changes clothes and heads back out again.

And now it's today. He appears wearing a suit far more him, the finest cut with the sleekest tie, a crisp white shirt and not a hair out of place, no pretending to be anyone else. He walks with a faint smirk which is nothing compared to the jubilation inside, flicking every TV around the bar to show the same screen. It's a football match.

And then he sits himself down in an armchair to watch. Half a minute, maybe less... and the screens begin to flicker. Interference at the end of the universe, perhaps...Moriarty smiles and stretches his neck until the tendon pops, rolling his eyes in pleasure. Football disappears, the crowd subsides, replaced with a face - his own face - and a single mantra repeated over and over and over and over and over...

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me...

 

He'd give a lot to see Sherlock's face right now. But that's alright. He's got a very good imagination.

Comments

[cottoncandypink]

"Oh, damn. I thought you were dead for good."

Wilford glances at the TV. Jim is being Jim, and watching himself on TV. Well... whatever it is, it's Jim's face anyway. Still, he can't even pretend to be surprised there.

[just_cant_lose]

'Well-'

He doesn't take his eyes off the screens, gaze flickering around all of them but always returning to the largest.

'-who says I'm not?'

[cottoncandypink]

"You're still here, aren't you?"

Wilford sometimes watches himself on TV, because it's what you do when you're on TV and need to make sure you're doing it right. But this is... excessive. That's the word. Excessive.

"There a reason you're trying to crack all the screens like that?"

Absolutely nothing about him has changed since Jim's been gone. Except maybe his hair. It's been a very long time, and is starting to verge on 'beatnik' territory.

[just_cant_lose]

Wilford has no idea. These are a few screens in a bar, albeit far away. Back home, though...

''Still here' - in this bar - suggests I'm dead for good, doesn't it?'

His tone is casual but quietly satisfied. His mind is imagining Sherlock seeing this, and it makes him want to laugh out loud.

[cottoncandypink]

"No, 'dead for good' means you're out of our hair."

And yet. And yet.

"You missed April Fool's by a month, you know." Wilford waves at the screens. It's kind of creepy, actually.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh, darling. That'll never happen.'

...did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me...

'And it's no joke.'

Beat.

'Depending on how you look at things. There are a number of people who certainly won't find it funny.'

[cottoncandypink]

"So what is it?"

He's actually a bit curious. All he knows about Holmes and Moriarty is a few paragraphs he was able to dig up back home, on some obscure historical website. Without that context, Sherlock is simply Jim's husband, and nothing more.

[just_cant_lose]

'A message. Obviously.'

He gives in and allows his inner smile to spread over his face, a dreamy thing that is entirely malevolent.

'I wouldn't want my gorgeous husband to get bored. I promised him I'd never let that happen.'

...did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me...

'...and of course his brother, the UK government, everyone I used to deal with, everyone who saw my face in the news after the trial...'

Of course everyone has missed him. How could they not?

[have_no_mercy]

Oh, look. Jim's back. And he's all over the TV, too.

That's easily ignored.

She sits across from him, saying nothing. Just watching.

Scrutinizing.

[just_cant_lose]

And Jim watches his own face, a faint smile curling his lips.

...did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me...

Isn't it beautiful?

'Hello, Tess,' he murmurs eventually, not having glanced at her once.

[have_no_mercy]

"Mmm."

She's still staring at him.

"What have you done now?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Ohhhhh, lots of things.'

Sorry? Not sorry.

'You'll have to be more specific.'

[have_no_mercy]

She doesn't really care. She has something else on her mind.

"You're on TV. Why?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Because I decided to be there.'

What else? He wouldn't be there by accident.

'Because if you can't say it with flowers, an all-channel, nationwide broadcast is the only other option.'

[have_no_mercy]

"I'll remember that."

Not that she's ever sent or wanted to send flowers to anyone.

"I need your sperm."

[just_cant_lose]

That makes him blink. It's possibly the only thing that could distract him from his big moment.

'...I mean, if you're thirsty, you'll have to give me a minute. Not a very long one; I have always found watching myself rather arousing.'

[mogget_cat]

Eventually, the repeated rhythm of the question gains accompaniment from that pale bastard at the piano. Given a beat, Yrael will find a use for it.

It's kind of catchy, too. There may be a few familiar themes woven into it.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's smirk curls into a genuine smile, and he eases his head back to listen. Ohhhh, it's so good, everything is so good. And that music Yrael wrote for him, the perfect accompaniment.

He'll just be over here, floating on a cloud of self-satisfaction for a minute or two. He's sure the pale bastard understands.

[electro_kinetic]

"You know that is getting really annoying," says the Noriko who has taken up residence in the armchair facing Jim, which happens to also be facing away from the TV.

She was trying to fix a mechanical problem with a music box, even, nothing violent in the least. Only now the repetitive sound of that 'did you miss me' is making her want to throw a hammer at the screen.

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm sure a few million people agree with you.'

Tens of millions, even. But the people who count will have a far more relevant reaction, and that's all that matters.

[electro_kinetic]

"There a reason you're broadcasting your face being annoying on the TV?" she asks in the face of that hilariously uninformative reply.

[just_cant_lose]

'Naturally.'

He smirks, self-satisfied.

'I've always quite enjoyed watching myself.'

[electro_kinetic]

"Points for creativity in the 'weird flex but okay' column, but mind telling me what that reason is?"

She'd like to know. Before she kills the TV.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim lifts a shoulder and lets it drop, smooth as heated oil.

'A message for my husband, that's all.'

The best kind of love letter.

[electro_kinetic]

"Flowers and a card just weren't gonna cut it?" she asks dryly.