Tapping. It's rhythmic, perfectly in sync with his heartbeat, and it's a repetitive motion. His fingers appreciate the light workout, and his mind appreciates it all the more - he can think with thoughts that aren't weighed down by basic motor functions.
Relaxing.
And irritating, at least for Irene Adler. He finds that he doesn't mind that fact; you can learn quite a lot about a person by judging their reaction to the things that annoy them. Sherlock smiles pleasantly, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yes, actually," he says factually, making an effort to tap even louder, if only to prove his point.
He's still figuring her out. Still learning her tricks and her ways, because she's interesting, more interesting than anything he has going on at the present time, and his intrigue isn't at all masked.
Because he knows that she's just as interested as he is, though it's for very different reasons.
Unlike Irene, John isn't bothered by the tapping. Oh, he notices it. It's difficult not to. But by now, he's grown more than used to all of Sherlock's idiosyncrasies. And while he's not exactly a fan of the constant tapping, the annoying little noises, the screeching violin noise, it's turned into background noise.
John holds down a corner of his newspaper and calmly watches as Irene challenged his flatmate's need to create noise. He's sure to duck his face behind the paper to hide the half-smile that appears on his face at Sherlock's reply. 221B has certainly been a little less monotonous since she arrived.
Irene represses the urge to snort in what surely would have been a decidedly unladylike manner. Instead, she sniffs prissily and draws her legs further into the seat. From where she sits, curled in the easy chair - a gesture that is itself territorial, a pointed casualness that stakes her claim in the space - she flips a page decisively, her eyes on the page before her, though one eyebrow creeps upwards. "I find that hard to believe," she says simply. She can't resist shooting a glance at him from under her eyelashes before returning her gaze to the volume in her lap.
She raises her voice slightly. "Is he always like this?" Though she doesn't say his name or look at him, Irene trusts that Watson will know she's addressing him. Mostly, she wants to see if it rankles Sherlock, being spoken of in the third person. She can imagine it might. "Rather tedious, don't you think?"
John has to stifle the urge to laugh. If she only knew that this was merely the tip of the iceberg. Still, he folds down his paper, wiping the little smirk from his face. Watching these two is like watching a pair of children sniping at each other.
A pair of frighteningly intelligent children.
"Mostly, yes. Suppose I'm used to it by now." John's suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the way it makes them sound like an old married couple. Sometimes it's taxing, being the substitute for Sherlock's skull.
Comments 7
Relaxing.
And irritating, at least for Irene Adler. He finds that he doesn't mind that fact; you can learn quite a lot about a person by judging their reaction to the things that annoy them. Sherlock smiles pleasantly, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yes, actually," he says factually, making an effort to tap even louder, if only to prove his point.
He's still figuring her out. Still learning her tricks and her ways, because she's interesting, more interesting than anything he has going on at the present time, and his intrigue isn't at all masked.
Because he knows that she's just as interested as he is, though it's for very different reasons.
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John holds down a corner of his newspaper and calmly watches as Irene challenged his flatmate's need to create noise. He's sure to duck his face behind the paper to hide the half-smile that appears on his face at Sherlock's reply. 221B has certainly been a little less monotonous since she arrived.
Reply
She raises her voice slightly. "Is he always like this?" Though she doesn't say his name or look at him, Irene trusts that Watson will know she's addressing him. Mostly, she wants to see if it rankles Sherlock, being spoken of in the third person. She can imagine it might. "Rather tedious, don't you think?"
Reply
A pair of frighteningly intelligent children.
"Mostly, yes. Suppose I'm used to it by now." John's suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the way it makes them sound like an old married couple. Sometimes it's taxing, being the substitute for Sherlock's skull.
Reply
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