Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy

[drpsychosomatic]

Who| John Watson, Sherlock Holmes and anyone they encounter
What| Exploring, complaining, all that wholesome stuff
Where| Throughout the Capitol
When| After John's introduction as punishment for Sherlock messing with the cameras
Warnings/Notes| No warnings as of yet. This post can also be used for meeting just John or just Sherlock, we can engineer them splitting up for fact-finding a la Scooby Doo if you prefer!

Having been given a quick crash course on everything Sherlock had learned during his stay in the Capitol and his rather unpleasant experiences in the Arena, John had asked if Sherlock wouldn't mind showing him around some of the more interesting places in the sprawling, decadent city. He felt like having a rather stiff drink, actually- something to wash down the hideously confusing day he'd had- though he doubted he could convince Sherlock to join him in destroying a few braincells at whatever passed for a pub in this ridiculous place.

"So, where's next?" he asked, as lightly as he could manage as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

Comments

[alldeduction]

It felt useless, attempting to understand Katurian. As useless as it felt trying to understand anyone who didn't behave rationally and especially when he didn't have a vested interest in attempting to work them out.

Normally he wouldn't try. Normally he would give up and grumble to himself about the generalised idiocy of man kind and of this man in particular and go to his rooms and fiddle with his violin darkly. Here, however, there was no violin. And Katurian remained a wild card that he wasn't sure what to do with if he should meet him again in the arena. So some sort of conclusion was necessary.

Time to fake it.

He threw up his hands, shaking his head. "Fine. Fine. It doesn't matter. Let's make a deal. You don't directly try to kill me, I won't try to kill you, and you don't need to get yourself killed horribly."

[downbeat]

“Yes,” Katurian said, watching Sherlock with his wide eyes. Did he mean it, that yes? Could he really guarantee that the next time they crossed paths he wouldn’t harm him? The choice he made the last time, oh, that was simple enough. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was responsible for someone’s death. But death was not permenant, death was a temporary inconvenience that could be made quick and short and relatively pain-free, and the death of others was the only thing separating Katurian from freedom. From his brother.

“That is most definitely a deal.”