Sherlock and Moriarty nonsense

[improbablenotimpossible]

with hatesdeerstalkers

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[hatesdeerstalkers]

[For a moment, Moriarty pauses - clearly thinking, weighing his options.

For a moment, the idea of continuing to push - of potentially pushing hard on those cracks, until he finally shatters - springs to his mind, and...

he wants to.

That urge is too compelling to ignore.]

You don't think your companions care for you, and vice versa, Holmes?

Have you truly become that cold person - someone who only seeks truth and knowledge, regardless of who it hurts?

[He feels solomon shift beside him, as if asking what's happening, but his gaze remains locked on the man in front of him - that ice blue gaze, never once letting Holmes out of his sight.]

[improbablenotimpossible]

...

..............

[The silence suddenly seemed much louder, much more oppressive. Some part of him still wants to deny it, that he still cares - still wants to, but he knew his actions on the lostbelts was that of a distant observer. Even the loss of his arm only earned some mild dismay. The medicines staved it off, but he was aware, bit by bit - feelings became harder and harder to summon - and sometimes he wondered, what he should have been feeling when something does happen, and he would draw a blank.

No one noticed. Oh they chide him for an inappropriate remark, more of which he had made, but no one had said anything.]

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The silence speak volumes - it is louder than anything Holmes could have attempted to say.

That urge - the desire rising in him, to keep pushing, to destroy - it hisses in his ears, whispering smooth, practiced notes...

Unconsciously, he clutches the spot over his heart.

No.

No more.

To do any more would be to destroy everything he hoped to accomplish -

(ah, but how beautiful it would be to see that moment when everything changed without any chance of recovery, no way to go back...)

- and he refused to give into that desire.

And so -

Marisbury turned his back on the silent detective, willing the burning in his chest to subside.]

...I believe I've kept you for long enough.

[improbablenotimpossible]

[He was so good at keeping time, he could measure how fast a train was traveling - drumming his fingers in a rhythm as he watches the telegraph posts fly by - using those two data points to measure the speed. He could time himself perfectly to end an experiment right before he needs to leave without looking at a clock once should he care to.

Yet - he couldn't make sense how long this stretch of silence had gone on. The hollow ache in his chest throbbed with his heartbeat, for a moment aware of something missing.

Then once again, his green eyes dulled as dangerous information was dissected and pulled from his conscious memory, buried in that hollowness, to protect, to ward.]

Yes, I have other matters to attend to.

[His voice was terse, irritated as if he just had an unpleasant argument, before he dematerializes]