#!ooc #//quick! someone hold me back from returning to the roleplay world. #//even better #//stop me from making a rule!63 account because I desperately want to. #//I have also been making icons obsessively. #//that's all post-work braindeathness allowed me to do. #//note: notdead. #//yes I'm so funny.
intransigentholmes replied to your post:[[MOR] askanthea liked your post:triggerbond:…
Busy day at work, is it?

          ❝ Oh no. Please. Spare me the mundane insipidity of smalltalk about our respective daily endeavors. Good lord, is this what we’ve been reduced to? What is it that you want, Sherlock? ❞

#intransigentholmes #!ic #//VERY FUNNY BROTHER DEAREST. #//sticking your fingers into sores. purposefully. how sweet of you. #//my PA flirting shamelessly with the sexy obnoxious agent. now this. #//I need a stiff -andexpensive- drink. #//FML

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#triggerbond #//YEAH YOU WOULD SAY THAT WOULDN'T YOU. #//BOND I WILL HAVE YOUR CAREER. #//I WILL RUIN YOU #//.......I mean. Hello friend. #//Hey I just met you. And this is crazy. But welcome to my blog. Interact maybe? #//YOU AND I WILL GET ALONG FRIEND. #!ooc #//tbd.

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#askanthea #!ooc #//we see what you're up to Anthea. #//we're watching you. #//and we don't like it. #//we're not psychic #//but we can predict a load of horribly boring paperwork in your future. #//just so you know. #//AND YOU WILL BE MAKING THE TEA


Mr. Holmes, I do hope you’re in line, too.


          ❝…Strange how the current-fashion decency can look so akin to old-fashioned impudence. No, Bond. Of course not. And I would highly appreciate if you would set your sights upon targets other than my P.A. As for the rest - a numbering-system, it seems, would be adequate.❞

#!ic #triggerbond #//so that was supposed to be a trivial ooc comment. #//BUT OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED LOOK AT THAT. #//where did this ic comment come from. #//oopsy-daisy. #//OH WELL. #//my gifs.


                       Some strange fragment of the woman was tempted to feel amused by the situation. The elder Holmes brother was most definitely trying to find some sort of gateway to her true self, something telling, hiding behind a supposed mask. A crack in her façade, as it were. It seemed as if he didn’t realize there was truly nothing beneath her mask, save for empty air. The role of  Mary Watson  was hers completely, to a point where she no longer considered it a part to play. Most of the time.

                       She wasn’t afraid, looking back at him with an unwavering stare. 
                       She didn’t feel much of anything in regards to this game.

                       Sebastian’s game was a completely different story.

                        Mary, with the ease of meeting a friend for coffee, crossed her knees. “ I’m afraid my reply won’t meet the build up you’ve created, but that’s not really my fault, I suppose. 


                     An owl-like blinking of her eyes. “ I’ve been keeping tabs on him since we had an unfortunate (in my case) meeting in Sweden maybe fifteen years ago. I noticed some unusual lack of activity. However, it was truly your brother who tipped me off. He had a similar run-in with Mr. Moran, as is clear from the scarring on his back he tries to conceal. ” That would surely warrant some attention. “ I suppose it prompted him to do the same and intercept some messages from MI6. He did the hard work for me, you see. 

'Most definitely trying to…' —- -

                     Incorrect, Mary. 

Not, of course, that it truly mattered. Assumptions were, for all intents and purposes, something that Mycroft enjoyed. Collected. Furthered and kept a rigorous eye on, as long as they pertained to others. Assumptions lent themselves to biases and bespoke of true character, revealing both present and the possibile future, all at once. Mycroft held a tight reign on the smile that threatened the corner of his mouth. ( Incorrect, Mary. You hear, but you do not understand. Please forget everything you believe that you may know about my brother; I assure you that it does not, in any way, pertain to me.)

                       I could not possibly care enough to waste the energy on ‘getting to know you’; deducing you; intimidating you; playing with you; cracking your veneer. 

                       It’s all irrelevant to me. 
                              You are irrelevant to me.

                       The only thing that could possibly interest me is — -  - 

Sometimes, Mycroft just likes to amuse himself. Not that many imagined it.
                                (A man with the sense of humour of a rock? Now, now. Assumptions.)

It suited him so well that he merely inclined his head in a silent bid for her to continue, face otherwise motionless, and slowly laced his fingers together atop of the mahogany desk.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, 
How does your garden grow?

         “ I see.  Bland. Unhurried. Perfectly articulated.

Neither denying nor indulging any line of thought, refusing to guide.

A note of mockery flirted (but did not quite reach) with the purposefully-blunted edge of his voice as he casually threw the words back in her face, and offered her no quarter, no other reaction than a slow blinking that nearly mirrored her own. He had been tempted, for a split-second, to enact the outraged —fine, that is just a tad too much… let us say the… vaguely concerned…— brother, just to gauge her reaction. But the thought slipped away from him easily, leaving him, in the end, looking utterly unfazed. 

The quirk of his brow was, however, sardonic.

           “ And what is it that you expect from me? 

#!ic #!para #quitecontrarymorstan
[ the-governments-daughter inquired: ] ??

[ ?? ] a thought my character has had about yours that they’d never admit.

#!ic #!meme #thegovernmentsdaughter #//sorry not sorry perfect gif was perfect. #//and whilst I believe this would not be something that Mycroft would never say to his child #//it would certainly not be expressed in those terms. #//and not at all often.
[ askanthea inquired: ] ?? ?? ?? ?? Is this greedy? Do I care?
#!ic #askanthea #//FINDING FOUR THINGS was extremely difficult for some reason. #//MYCROFT DID NOT WANT. #//It was like pulling teeth. #//Jeeesus. #Don't be alarmed. It's to do with queues. #!meme
[ paxepicene inquired: ] ??
#!ic #paxepicene #//snicker snort. #//it's probably the only thing too. #//which makes it funnier. #//Mycroft feels no qualms with abusing Julian straightforwardly. If he feels the need to. #//'HERE LEMME GIVE YOU SOME CON-CRIT' AND ALL. #//We're bros soooo. #//ALSO HI THERE. #Don't be alarmed. It's to do with queues. #!meme
( fresh meat )


 █  —- ♛ ❝—w h a t?


Far be it from me to question whatever ridiculous game your youthful mind might be currently engaging in, child, but if you could cease obstructing my way, it would be most convenient. Move. 


#!ic #wednesdxy #//oh hello there! c:
[ quitecontrarymorstan inquired: ] "I've heard rumor that a certain Sebastian Moran is in custody. And is under your jurisdiction."




           Be that as it may (true or not) — I fail to see how it could be any of your concern, Mrs. … ah, yes, Watson now, isn’t it? I believe that I have yet to offer my formal congratulations. Consider it done. 


                      “ Thank you for that, Mr. Holmes, but that is not the reason I’ve come to make this visit. For the moment, let us settle on the fact that I’ve encountered  him before and have some opinions on what’s to be done about his case.

The gaze he fixed on her would have mortified many a soul and sent them scurrying out of his public office within a heartbeat. Unfortunately for him, ‘Mary’ did not possess that sort of feeble character (although that would have served his purpose just fine, at the moment). He allowed his gaze to trail across her face, examining each line with surgical precision, dissecting the expression that had settled on her face until it was a mere mathematical equation.

His tongue ran along the inside of his cheek.
His jaw, momentarily clenched, unlocked. Slowly.

                     “ No. A fact. A decision. A ruling. Not a question left up for debate. What you will do, Mary, is enlighten me as to how you ‘came by’ your supposed information. I am all but dying from unappeased curiosity.


#!ic #quitecontrarymorstan #!spara #//tumblr keeps eating messages for me idgi. #//it's rather annoying. I should probably stop hoarding past PMs. maybe that would help. #//that aside - I'm glad to hear that! #//things are so-so here. but thank you for asking! c:
[ quitecontrarymorstan inquired: ] "I've heard rumor that a certain Sebastian Moran is in custody. And is under your jurisdiction."


           Be that as it may (true or not) — I fail to see how it could be any of your concern, Mrs. … ah, yes, Watson now, isn’t it? I believe that I have yet to offer my formal congratulations. Consider it done. 

#!ic #quitecontrarymorstan #//oh hello there darling! #//how do you do?
[ hisarchenemy inquired: ] "Everyone ends up alone."



"What makes you say that?" 


       ”I didn’t realize this was a test.

       What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?” 

It means that you will not get the right answers, unless…

                   “  Isn’t everything? He waved a dismissive hand, letting the subject drop (really, if he wanted to engage in the finer points of existentialism, he would most certainly choose a different interlocutor. And find himself a good cuppa. But sharing a tea trolley with Marian? …Oh no. That would not bode well. No insult meant, of course.)

                   “  It was —how would you put it?— a friendly…. (warning) piece of advice.

#!ic #whitecoatedcriminal #//*BOTHERS MOAR*
[ hisarchenemy inquired: ] I think you should partake of these raisins, brother mine. They're quite excellent.


Oh, I   b e l i e v e  you 

                    as excellent as the cake from which they were removed?


           How (un)believably childish of you. Don’t try to be sardonic, Sherlock. You do not have it down to an art, in spite of what you may be inclined to believe. I suppose that will be a ‘no’ to my gracious invitation, then? Pity.

#!ic #intransigentholmes #//Me? Read your headcanons? Why I never-- #//WAS THAT A FROZEN ADAPTATION ARE YOU KIDDING ME. #//Raisins are the food of the gods Sherlock. #//You have no taste. #//We're disappointed in you little brother. We really are. #//Mmm. Raisins. #//RAISINS.



”Who are you? Are you lost?”

(The first question, he ignores. Of course.)

           “No.” His tone was awfully bland and awfully casual; offered no further explanation (that, indeed, would have been out of place) but regarded her curiously, with a brow slowly raising. It wasn’t enough to highlight any measure of actual curiosity, but it was certainly enough to denote that he found this… interaction… rather queer. It certainly is a study in contrasts, if nothing else.

"And no, thank you." (Not that she had said anything. Yet.)


#!ic #madfatraeearl #//Hello! c: #Don't be alarmed. It's to do with queues.
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