Deduction 5 - [ audio / action ]

[notquiteheartless]

That one there.

...No. The other.

Thank you.

[Sherlock Holmes likes to talk as he works.

Today, he actually has a project. Gone is the boredom and lethargy, but he has not progressed into the mania of a case yet. He is all scientific control now, watching every flame and chemical and reaction with the utmost care.

There's a lot to do. Compounds need to be broken down so elements and simplier compounds can be isolated. Then those have to be correctly combined. A long process with the rudimentary equipment found in the laboratory he and Temperance share in her flat.

And whomever he is speaking to isn't the only one who has to listen to him.]

It's always about comfort.

Truth? Entirely expendable if one is not comfortable with it. People prefer what makes them feel at ease, what seems 'nicest.' Even if it's nothing more than a good story.

[And Moriarty was a very good storyteller.]

Whatever threatens their world-view least, they accept. Are delighted to take as proven fact, even if there is only conjecture to support it.

Sheep, following the butcher to slaughter, bleeting happily.

[Does he sound irritated?]

But everyone makes mistakes. All their deceptions? Eventually come unravelled. Strange as this place is, it is not an exception to this rule.

[That would be because he is. His mood has been just a slight bit volatile since his midnight "chat" with Moriarty. Whom he is quite sure will hear this, whom he wants to hear this, wants him to know he'll be waiting for that one mistake. His conversation with Lestrade hadn't helped either.

To the other in the room:]

That one now.

[A quiet sigh. The look he's getting doesn't need words to make its doubts clear.]

Oxford, John. I know what I'm doing.

Comments

written - unhackable

[sooochangeable]

Baa baa black sheep.

[ Action ]

[theblogger]

[ Doubts or no, clearly he trusts Sherlock enough to do as he's told. ]

But is this really the moment to be cynical?

[ Dry. Seriously, though: ]

People show you who they are if you wait long enough. And some people have better instincts than you might think. It's harder playing to an audience you don't exactly know.

[ Action ]

[notquiteheartless]

This is what he's good at. He plays to a wide audience, John. He doesn't have to know them. He isn't trying to specialise.

[He's watching the chemistry set carefully, studying it. It's something to concentrate on. Something to let everything else become background noise... which lets him filter what he needs to, lets him look at it a bit differently.

Almost a peripheral glance, rather than head-on.]

He isn't trying to fool one person. He knows better than that.

He's better than that. Smarter than that.

[Then, quietly, almost a side note to himself:] Brilliant. That's what makes him so dangerous. [Except the last word? Almost sounds like admiration. Because he can admire it. A foe whose tactics he hates but whose methods are intriguing. A game he doesn't want to play but relishes once he's dragged into the fray.]

[ Action ]

[theblogger]

[ This is going to be hard. It's already been some time since they've been in Luceti, and John is watching the all-too familiar signs of boredom creep into his friend's disposition. It's a concern all in itself without having to think about Moriarty, but is integral for understanding why John doesn't reach out and cuff the detective when a part of his evaluation of the terrorist sounds like a praise.

Instead, John sighs through his nose. ]

Dangerous, yeah, but hopefully human enough that this will work.

Just... never mind. Concentrate on that.

[ Like they need to get themselves killed in the process of this. ]

[voice]

[cop_an_attitude]

[You know what? After talking to Lestrade, she has no desire to hear this and will not, repeat, will not say anything about it. But neither will she let it pass without comment, because Sherlock may outlive god to have the last word, but Sally is an atheist.]

You know, you're giving me flashbacks to a Tom Waits song.

[voice]

[notquiteheartless]

Flashbacks to what?

[Really, Sally? You expected him to know who and what you're talking about?]

Re: [voice]

[cop_an_attitude]

[Of course she didn't. She likes knowing things you don't! Was it not obvious?]

What's He Building In There. It's about the town freak hammering away at something in his basement and frightening all his neighbors.

[Of course, in the song, they're probably baseless accusations that will end up getting an innocent man in trouble, and she knows that, but he doesn't. Also. It's been that kind of day.]

[voice]

[theblogger]

I was thinking Simon and Garfunkel.

Re: [voice]

[cop_an_attitude]

Which one's yours?

voice;

[gleamed]

That's...that's not true.

[This is the sound of normally-enthusiastic girl sounding very tired. But. She is still assertive.]

People don't want to be lied to. It's much better to know what the truth really is.

[Like when she found out who she really was. She'd been oh-so-comfortable in that tower, but she'd never, in a million years, go back to that life.]

voice;

[notquiteheartless]

People claim that. A lot of people.

Most of them don't actually believe it. Let alone practice it.

voice;

[gleamed]

Well I believe it. It's a choice I had to make, too.

[Nothing]

[deathsdoctor]

[Well, ain't that the truth.

It's a rather sardonic thought, though he agrees. Because he thinks Sherlock is showing a bit of his own wool. He's getting that he worships at the temple of logic, science, and his own ego and intellect. Maybe that's not an entirely accurate assessment, but that's the picture so far.

Law glances at his file folders of 'conjecture'. And thinks of all his experiences, both in the operating room and on the field. Well. If the thing with the wings is going to a continuing irritant to him (and it's only one of several irritants it seems), then that's the way things are going to be.

It's always about comfort.

Very right. Let's move on.

Page flip.]

[ voice ]

[herotypical]

I do need a new wool sweater. [ idle; dispassionate. no need to get your knickers in a twist over a cynic.

besides, she's lived the phenomena he's describing. the regular sunnydale citizen was great at dispensing with the truth. ]

You do realize you're broadcasting, right?

[ voice ]

[notquiteheartless]

Yes.

[Because maybe irritating a few people with rants about their stupidity will wake the vaguely intelligent ones up from their complacency. Get them to open their eyes.

He isn't holding out much hope.]

[ voice ]

[herotypical]

Do you also realize that your broadcasting kiiiiinda makes you sound like a sanctimonious prick? I say this, of course, as one myself. Maybe we can have a club.

[voice]

[theoniongirl]

[cynicism aside, this sounds familiar]

I have a friend back home who had a similar theory. He called it consensual reality...how people will overlook the truth if there's a more "acceptable" answer.

[voice]

[notquiteheartless]

He has the right idea.

[So many people so willing to believe what's easier or kinder, whatever makes them feel safer or better. Smarter or more compassionate... whatever they want to feel, rather than what really is.]

People get very comfortable with certain ideas and will ignore what threatens that comfort if they're given any choice.

[voice]

[theoniongirl]

I don't think it's usually intentional. Maybe they really aren't used to things being....unexpected.

[Voice]

[toujoursfluer]

Are you trying to unlock the secrets of this place? [She sounds mildly curious]

[Voice]

[notquiteheartless]

Eventually.

[Not at the present moment. This is a much more personal project.

But he does have plenty of projects in that vein and plans plenty more.]

[Voice]

[toujoursfluer]

To what end?

[action]

[beltbucklerebel]

[the first sign that Brennan had returned to her apartment came from the faint argument that had sparked in the hall outside. Or, rather, it had been sparked by something that had happened in the street...and it had continued all the way up the stairs and down the hall until Brennan and Booth were standing outside her door]

-prisoners, without a clue how to get out. What does it matter if I waste a little paper?

[obviously, they've been spending too much time together]

[action]

[truthin_bones]

[For what seems like the umpteenth time since Booth's arrival, she finds herself rolling her eyes. He's not listening. He hasn't seemed to listen to anything she's said lately, has he?

It's not even all that surprising that, rather than continuing to walk further down to his door after she unlocks her own, he stays right behind her.]

You might be ripping out something important before you've had the chance to read it, Booth.

[action]

[notquiteheartless]

[This is why he liked Bart's. Nine times out of ten, he could expect the environment to be almost completely silent except when he didn't want it to be. There were no people in that area, no one above or below or on the same floor to make noise.

Granted, these weren't the most disruptive conditions he'd ever worked in. Not in the slightest.

His supplies are set up as carefully as he can manage. It's taking longer than it would with a full range, but that's because every step has to be repeated over and over to obtain what he needs. At the far left of his table, placed just so, is a beaker of white powder. A few Bunsen burners are out, one unlit with a syringe lying beside it-- he'd told John he'd picked it up from one of the clinics here.

At present, he is adjusting two of the relays between parts of his endeavour. Stopping up the pale blue liquid now collected in one area and not yet allowing it to combine with a white-ish liquid in another other.]