The Voice That Changes Everything
Title: The Voice That Changes Everything
Author: Senket
Series: Sherlock
Rating: PG
Genre: general
Summary: Regarding James Moriarty and the use of ringtones
Word Count: 303
Pairing: Jim/Seb
Spoilers: ASiB
Authors Notes: it's my headcanon. May it be yours?
When Jim’s phone rings, he never bothers to check the caller ID. It would be a waste of time, really; he can hardly use people’s real names on his phone. It’s not because he’s afraid someone will get their hands on it, because no one ever will, but because he can’t be arsed to remember that many names. He’s so much better with voices.
Everyone’s secret terror sounds a little bit different.
But answering the phone that way means he never knows who will reply- that wouldn’t matter if he were an ordinary crime lord, but he isn’t. He knows exactly how to manipulate every piece and that means adopting just the right accent for everyone. It wouldn’t do to answer a lord with cockney, just as it wouldn’t do to answer someone from the East End with the voice of an Eton schoolboy.
So he has ringtones. They’re hilarious, every one. Staying Alive. I Will Survive. Video Killed The Radio Star. Suddenly I See.
It makes passerbys smile- and when they smile they always translate anything he says inoffensively. People are so easy.
But, then, sometimes, his phone rings and it’s just- a ring. The default ring, simple, unnoticeable. Common.
He answers with whatever voice he feels like, and is always answered by a gruff, bad-tempered version of the Queen’s English.
He likes to close his eyes and imagine, remember what that voice feels like when the throat that creates it is vibrating between his fingers. He likes to stand still and remember what that voice feels like puffed out against his skin. He likes to press a finger against the pulse in his neck and remember what those teeth feel like against his hip.
Usually he lets it ring out.
He’ll only answer that phone call when he’s alone.
It’s a little impractical, really.
Author: Senket
Series: Sherlock
Rating: PG
Genre: general
Summary: Regarding James Moriarty and the use of ringtones
Word Count: 303
Pairing: Jim/Seb
Spoilers: ASiB
Authors Notes: it's my headcanon. May it be yours?
When Jim’s phone rings, he never bothers to check the caller ID. It would be a waste of time, really; he can hardly use people’s real names on his phone. It’s not because he’s afraid someone will get their hands on it, because no one ever will, but because he can’t be arsed to remember that many names. He’s so much better with voices.
Everyone’s secret terror sounds a little bit different.
But answering the phone that way means he never knows who will reply- that wouldn’t matter if he were an ordinary crime lord, but he isn’t. He knows exactly how to manipulate every piece and that means adopting just the right accent for everyone. It wouldn’t do to answer a lord with cockney, just as it wouldn’t do to answer someone from the East End with the voice of an Eton schoolboy.
So he has ringtones. They’re hilarious, every one. Staying Alive. I Will Survive. Video Killed The Radio Star. Suddenly I See.
It makes passerbys smile- and when they smile they always translate anything he says inoffensively. People are so easy.
But, then, sometimes, his phone rings and it’s just- a ring. The default ring, simple, unnoticeable. Common.
He answers with whatever voice he feels like, and is always answered by a gruff, bad-tempered version of the Queen’s English.
He likes to close his eyes and imagine, remember what that voice feels like when the throat that creates it is vibrating between his fingers. He likes to stand still and remember what that voice feels like puffed out against his skin. He likes to press a finger against the pulse in his neck and remember what those teeth feel like against his hip.
Usually he lets it ring out.
He’ll only answer that phone call when he’s alone.
It’s a little impractical, really.