Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
3potionproblem) wrote2012-11-18 09:31 pm
3potionproblem) wrote2012-11-18 09:31 pm
Entry tags:
Quidditch "Date"
WHO: Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty
TONE: Tense to somewhat romantic
RATING: PG-13 [tw - talk of suicide]
WHEN: Sunday, November 25th
WHERE: The Quidditch stands
WHAT: Sherlock and Jim go on their Quidditch date.
STATUS: Completed
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Sherlock stood in the Ravenclaw Quidditch viewing box watching the crowd far more than he bothered to watch the game as he stood aside from the stands. It wouldn't do well to be stuck in the middle of that crowd. For one, they were very noisy. For another, he was supposed to be meeting someone and standing aside would make him a bit more obvious. Not that Jim really needed the help.
To pass the time he watched Greg and Tony above, comparing their performance and team management styles with what he knew of them. He followed Peter's broom now and then. Things moved too fast to really be all that interesting. Sherlock much preferred a game of whits to a game mostly of luck, chance, and physical skill.
TONE: Tense to somewhat romantic
RATING: PG-13 [tw - talk of suicide]
WHEN: Sunday, November 25th
WHERE: The Quidditch stands
WHAT: Sherlock and Jim go on their Quidditch date.
STATUS: Completed
----------------------------------------------
Sherlock stood in the Ravenclaw Quidditch viewing box watching the crowd far more than he bothered to watch the game as he stood aside from the stands. It wouldn't do well to be stuck in the middle of that crowd. For one, they were very noisy. For another, he was supposed to be meeting someone and standing aside would make him a bit more obvious. Not that Jim really needed the help.
To pass the time he watched Greg and Tony above, comparing their performance and team management styles with what he knew of them. He followed Peter's broom now and then. Things moved too fast to really be all that interesting. Sherlock much preferred a game of whits to a game mostly of luck, chance, and physical skill.
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There was only a minute of staring before he closed his eyes for a long moment and turned back to Sherlock. The look faded when he leaned up on the balls of his feet to get far closer to Sherlock's ear than he probably preferred. "Cute, it's cute, really, really cute," he whispered, only loud enough for him, it was only meant for him, to anyone else it would simply be a ghost of a conversation lost in the crowd. "Wolf."
There was no explanation, there didn't need to be one, not when one is amongst such genius. Though, in retrospect, his next actions were what explained everything. Moriarty slipped one of his hands down into his pocket, still staying oh-so close so no one else could see other than the intended one man audience. When he withdrew it he had a rather sharp looking knife. "I did warn you, didn't I?" Despite his words he brought the weapon to his own throat. His other hand grabbed Sherlock's arm, not allowing him to escape.
no subject