Dr. Dyer. I beg your pardon the intrusion. I happen to be in your neighborhood at just this moment. I'm afraid I've been rather occupied during this mission, and it's just struck me that I haven't come around to say hello in quite some time.
Of course, professor. It's just me at the moment, the men are otherwise occupied, so if you were hoping to see Mr. Holmes as well, I'm afraid he's elsewhere.
That's all right, Mr. Holmes and I will just have to catch up another day. Some tea, please, if you would?
[And within just a few minutes he's knocking at her door, with unannounced snacks in tow, of course.
He's still in the clean-cut business casual attire that says he's just come back from work, but with none of the antiseptic chemical smell of the morgue. When she opens the door, he offers her a smile and a cheery wave:]
[ushering him inside, she's dressed pin neat, and so is the house. it's all as it should be for this place, but there's an energy around Emily - the tension wound as tight as clockwork, the faint shadows under her eyes that she can't fully cover. she's on edge, and it's enough to make her far too aware of her surroundings.]
Make yourself at home - I'll get our tea.
[this she can at least do without thinking too hard about it.]
[He takes a seat at the dinner table and sets down that tupperware of simple riceballs. Yujin's little more than passable as a home cook, so he figures easy is best. (And if Herlock could scarf these down even when distracted, so can Sherlock, he reasons.)]
You've kept this place in tip-top condition, Miss Dyer. It looks lovely.
[But the exhaustion on her face hasn't escaped his notice: it's a compliment meant to put her at ease.]
[when she reemerges with a tray, there's two cups, as well as a pot of tea and some inoffensive snacks.]
I'm afraid it isn't the best quality, but it's passable - and oh, you didn't have to bring anything at all.
[and yet, she's opening the container so they can each have a riceball on their plate before pouring the tea. green, not black - when all's said and done, she prefers coffee, but the sad state of bagged tea in this town has made black undrinkable.]
Tell me what's been keeping you occupied here, while we all have to play pretend.
[Yujin murmurs his thanks, adding--] Oh, no, it will do just fine. Thank you for your hospitality.
[Lest they forget the sad state of the 50's era supermarkets. He's still desperately rationing that one soy sauce bottle he found a few weeks out.
He glances down at his tea, privately amused, then looks back at Emily.] Well. My 'husband', mostly. [A thoughtful sip.] Work is dull and, try as I might, I haven't found any leads to the orb or what's going on in this town. Learning to share space with someone new is really all that's been keeping me busy, here.
[And he deftly nudges that topic towards her, just to keep that a little private:] It must be odd to have a son nearly your age. Much less Sherlock Holmes.
[his husband is keeping him occupied. despite herself, she smiles a little into her cup, and sips it to avoid saying anything unwise. but she'll accept the course of subject change, and let the warmth of the cup in her hands be steadying.]
Mr. Holmes has actually been pleasant enough to live with. I can't say it's the most amusing thing to be viewed as his mother, but I'm glad I can offer some help when it comes to navigating this mission. It's bad enough they've all been trying to set him up - I'm on the verge of offering to be an overbearing mother who thinks no one is good enough for him.
[Local bisexual disaster Yujin Mikotoba NOT aware of how he sounds, in other news water wet and sky blue.]
I see-- that's good to hear. [You mean he's not shooting at the wall and scraping at that violin at all hours? Or Emily is one of the rare people (like him) who tolerates it? His mild statement belies how WILDLY relieved Yujin is to hear this.] Not the matchmakers, [he adds, with a chuckle,] but that you're getting on.
[He trails off awkwardly. He's been meaning to speak to Emily about this; maybe now is finally the time.]
I, er. I'm not sure if I've told you this yet, but... [he taps nervous fingers on the side of his cup as he chooses the least confusing words he can.] Holmes was my greatest friend in my world. A version of Holmes, anyway. Older, and with other differences, but... the same man, more or less. It's quite unusual, but rather par the course for the Ximilia.
Either way. I cannot thank you enough for being there for him. [He inclines his head in a grateful nod.]
[ He can't message anymore, too much time spent taking shortcuts wherever he can to avoid being in the vicinity of the fakes. He makes it back to the house but the streets by their entrance are littered with them wandering around. Instead he comes up by the window of Emily's room, ducking to avoid detection as he sends a message. ]
I'm not at the door. Too many of them. Open your bedroom window for me.
[there's no message replying, but there is soon the sound of Emily undoing the locks that she'd put on the window, and she's there to lift it up, extending her hand to help him over if he needs.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text > action Soon
[Dropping by for Sherlock only half counts.]
Are you available?
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Coffee or tea? I'll get it started.
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[And within just a few minutes he's knocking at her door, with unannounced snacks in tow, of course.
He's still in the clean-cut business casual attire that says he's just come back from work, but with none of the antiseptic chemical smell of the morgue. When she opens the door, he offers her a smile and a cheery wave:]
Good evening.
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[ushering him inside, she's dressed pin neat, and so is the house. it's all as it should be for this place, but there's an energy around Emily - the tension wound as tight as clockwork, the faint shadows under her eyes that she can't fully cover. she's on edge, and it's enough to make her far too aware of her surroundings.]
Make yourself at home - I'll get our tea.
[this she can at least do without thinking too hard about it.]
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You've kept this place in tip-top condition, Miss Dyer. It looks lovely.
[But the exhaustion on her face hasn't escaped his notice: it's a compliment meant to put her at ease.]
Do you need any help in there?
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[when she reemerges with a tray, there's two cups, as well as a pot of tea and some inoffensive snacks.]
I'm afraid it isn't the best quality, but it's passable - and oh, you didn't have to bring anything at all.
[and yet, she's opening the container so they can each have a riceball on their plate before pouring the tea. green, not black - when all's said and done, she prefers coffee, but the sad state of bagged tea in this town has made black undrinkable.]
Tell me what's been keeping you occupied here, while we all have to play pretend.
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[Lest they forget the sad state of the 50's era supermarkets. He's still desperately rationing that one soy sauce bottle he found a few weeks out.
He glances down at his tea, privately amused, then looks back at Emily.] Well. My 'husband', mostly. [A thoughtful sip.] Work is dull and, try as I might, I haven't found any leads to the orb or what's going on in this town. Learning to share space with someone new is really all that's been keeping me busy, here.
[And he deftly nudges that topic towards her, just to keep that a little private:] It must be odd to have a son nearly your age. Much less Sherlock Holmes.
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Mr. Holmes has actually been pleasant enough to live with. I can't say it's the most amusing thing to be viewed as his mother, but I'm glad I can offer some help when it comes to navigating this mission. It's bad enough they've all been trying to set him up - I'm on the verge of offering to be an overbearing mother who thinks no one is good enough for him.
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I see-- that's good to hear. [You mean he's not shooting at the wall and scraping at that violin at all hours? Or Emily is one of the rare people (like him) who tolerates it? His mild statement belies how WILDLY relieved Yujin is to hear this.] Not the matchmakers, [he adds, with a chuckle,] but that you're getting on.
[He trails off awkwardly. He's been meaning to speak to Emily about this; maybe now is finally the time.]
I, er. I'm not sure if I've told you this yet, but... [he taps nervous fingers on the side of his cup as he chooses the least confusing words he can.] Holmes was my greatest friend in my world. A version of Holmes, anyway. Older, and with other differences, but... the same man, more or less. It's quite unusual, but rather par the course for the Ximilia.
Either way. I cannot thank you enough for being there for him. [He inclines his head in a grateful nod.]
un: k. jarrus | text, during amaryllis part two
I'll be back at the house with supplies soon. Are you there?
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Yes, I am, though I haven't yet heard from Sherlock.
[unspoken is that she'll keep trying.]
Have you been hurt at all?
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[ Which means he might be getting worse. Damn. ]
I got into a scuffle with one of those fakes. Nothing horrible. You can take a closer look if you want.
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I'll be back in half an hour. I need to take the long way to avoid the fakes.
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[ He can't message anymore, too much time spent taking shortcuts wherever he can to avoid being in the vicinity of the fakes. He makes it back to the house but the streets by their entrance are littered with them wandering around. Instead he comes up by the window of Emily's room, ducking to avoid detection as he sends a message. ]
I'm not at the door. Too many of them.
Open your bedroom window for me.
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Hurry-
[she knows she doesn't need to tell him.]