howdull: (anger] genuine ire)
Sherlock Holmes ([personal profile] howdull) wrote in [community profile] fossilised 2017-01-27 11:36 am (UTC)

Sherlock didn't bother to speak. He knew that Moriarty would not place a call to John that Sherlock could interfere with, and so speaking up would only serve to make him look foolish, something he had no love of doing at any point. Especially not when he was with a criminal almost as clever as he was.

He instead took that time to properly look Moriarty up and down. He was hard to read, harder than most, because he could become a chameleon so very easily. He altered everything about himself in a moment, becoming Rich Brooke or Molly's boyfriend in a second. But he was himself now, Sherlock believed that much, and so he attempted to gather all he could.

Pristine nails, slightly ragged at the tip suggesting that he used to have a habit of biting them, but had stopped about five months prior. Favoured stepping out on his left foot about seventy percent of the time, probably left handed, then.

Nothing useful.

He reached out and picked up his teacup again, thoughtfully swirling what little liquid remained, before he all of a sudden surged to his feet and went to smash it into the side of Moriarty's head. Crude, but effective, if it worked.

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