You know, there are some people who cannot seat in the silence? They need a lot of actions, movements. And also they can keep calm; only it they have some very important reasons which look quite impossible.
Moreover, such people also cannot do anything if they 'should'. That's some point of their mind when you hear an interesting word 'must' and understand that you won't do anything.
And very, very rarely the world can decide to joke. You know, it's fond of a joke btw. And when it is - you should do or not to do and there are no other way. You know? A t a l l.
Even some great and brilliant minds cannot find them.
And that begins the great show. Some stupid show, actually.
by the way, more often - for no one, except life.
& also it will seem some kind of torture for them. For him. For Sherlock.
It's funny if remember that he had never loved 'torture'. Anyone doesn’t love 'torture' in attitude to himself, but Sherlock really hadn't used that, although he could;
It can be interesting just like a psychological portrait of offender; cannot - like type of punishment/execution and quite old for nowadays. And moreover of course he didn't love it for himself. Who would?
A lot of people would tell that boredom cannot seem very awful; but it was. But there still was some ways for;
Everyone has a 'skeleton in his safe'. It can be wardrobe, bookcase - even cupboard, everything that you want, perhaps.
By the way, Sherlock also has got that. There was the only one thing which wasn't so boring in this world.
It was just awful.
Terrible, insufferable. Yes, unsufferable - is the most suitable world.
It also called Moriarty. Jim Moriarty. And Sherlock, even the greatest Sherlock Holmes didn't know why it could be happened. He proposed that he had wanted to unravel one of the mysteries of one - ok, for himself he can said that - of the one greatest offender. & instead he found the new one.
That even was quite fine. For a few first minute before a moment when Jim began talking with him... about life. About himself. About everything except 'what I would like to do and how, and where you can catch me'. Seriously, it would be enough for Holmes. Just. This. Few. Things. Or nothing.
One good thing - that wasn't persistent noise or voices in his head - just sometimes, for a short time. But it always appears sooner or later. And that already wasn't fine.
There were a lot of bad things, actually. His voices, his jokes, his... temper, which - Sherlock couldn't understand why but - was bad and looks very much real Jim. In general it looks like a stupid - bori... ok, not boring, but not funny at all - joke of his mind.
...and he won't never admit that in general he loved these talks.
However, he still hadn't loved things which he couldn't explain. For himself - first of all.
And he still couldn't understand well how he find himself there; only to suppose and to have a few variants which he wasn't sure.
Usually that seems like ordinary room; maybe that even was it.
Usually he was here absolutely alone.
Sherlock mechanically made a wry face and closed his eyes for a few instants, but - oh, of course - Moriarty still was there. And he was talking something. And he didn't catch when he started listen him. His strange-inexplicable illusion. Perfectly.
By the way, he wasn't flattered too. Maybe he should be - the greatest criminal in his mind who talks with him and... or maybe he should ask to help by some psychiatrist.
But he had never done anything that he should - just on principle. That's boring.
Frankly speaking, right now Sherlock was too thoughtful. He was breaking between two facts.
- first: Jim's voice was annoyed. Too annoyed. And not only voice.
- second: He (Sherlock) was still bored.
'We both can imagine that there is no any Moriarty there. can we?' ironically invited to imagine Sherlock and ruged temples.
Oh, of course they could. And of course they wouldn't, because that's... just 'cause.
& He still doesn't like such things.
'I don't know' told he, quite sincerely. Just because that's his mind and that is still not any useful information which Jim couldn't understand. He is not an idiot and Sherlock still hasn't known if it's good or bad. He has got a lot of arguments for any of these two variants.
'And I don't think so. I suppose, we can speak only in this room. That will be quite logically, because...' Sherlock was drumming his fingers on the elbow-rest and suddenly gave a jump. He run up to the door - too ordinary, insignificant - opening it.
There is just nothing. Of course, he is right.
'You see?' phlegmatically shrugged his shoulders and went back to the arm-chair. Logically. At least - this thing.
Another can drive his mad, maybe.
The fact that Jim hadn't asked him for any proof, actually - doesn't care him. No wonder why but he has a person is talking to;
and he would like to use this chance.
you know, that's really nice, after so-long-time.
Maybe he could make a second John...
khm. or maybe not.
As a matter of fact, he was surprised that there is no place with John here. Or, he still hadn't open it? Hm.
Sherlock was drumming again and thinking.
'Or maybe there is nothing 'cause it's my mind and there is should be everything like I want it.'
...although it comes into conflict with your appearance here.
One-two-three; and a man stood up again, habitually walking around all this room - rather like his own - like usually.
and 'not like usually' was sensation that smb else here.
'Did you believe in my death?' - suddenly asked Sherlock, still thinking. Frankly speaking he didn't really interesting about that. He just wanted to know how... How old version of Moriarty he has god. Or, maybe he can change like Sherlock's own thoughts? Or..
And of course, his Moriarty would believe in Sherlock's death.
Any Moriarty, actually. 'cause he was perfect.
Отредактировано Erik Lehnsherr (2014-07-22 00:30:52)
