Monthly Archives: January 2014

by

wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

While he listened to the young detective begin to piece together what he was trying to say, Sherlock silently observed him with a hardened, almost unreadable expression. This person was certainly not unpleasant or difficult to converse with but Sherlock wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be so much more amicable and pleasantly charming than himself. Hakuba was definitely very clever and therefore had a very active mind. Like Sherlock’s, it seemed to be like a bee hive with ideas and thoughts swirling round simultaneously. This gave him a coldness to his attitude that was all too evident to the consulting detective, perhaps because this a trait that he identified himself as also possessing. He was a good detective and an opportunist, much of his charm therefore must stem from him projecting a more friendly approachable facade that would allow him to get the information he needs to do his job.

Upon hearing James decline the gift of one of the hats, Sherlock’s expression faltered and he looked a little surprised. Few ever declined anything from him, especially the gift of one of his own belongings for free. It was almost unheard of in this day and age where he and John were constantly being ambushed by the media at inopportune times. “Oh, is that so? Many would be falling down at my feet in gratitude at the offer yet you brush it off so casually. You may see it as a token of whatever you wish, including your adventure here with me if you desire. What you do with it once you leave is irrelevant to me. If I am going to be eternally remembered in that accursed piece of headgear then I would like it to be a symbol of just how loathsome and detestable the world around us truly is. Still, it is the horrors of the world that provide me with sport and entertainment so I shouldn’t be so harsh on it.”

The detective’s gaze hardened as James mentioned how much time was being wasted and he scowled slightly. “I think I am more than capable of monitoring my own time on my own case without your input, as helpful as you may be trying to be, My Hakuba. You may be my supposed successor but let us not forget I am no amateur neither am I anywhere near past my prime.” he stated in a cool tone, stalking closely past the young detective and into the door, his Belstaff coat brushing against him as he passed by. Once he was just inside Sherlock turned on his heel and gestured with his head for Hakuba to follow. “You wish to be of some use to me by utilizing your charm? So be it. Your visually appealing face should be used for something other than as a tool in your flirting after all. I don’t normally hand over the reins to anyone but I must admit I am intrigued by you enough to like you at this current time. Prove your usefulness to me, Mr Hakuba. I am waiting.”

So it was going to be like that then? Hakuba took another breath, steeling himself against rising to the bait, though it was difficult. Very difficult. Instead, to Sherlock, he offered a cool smile as he entered the building, nodding his head in concession.

He’d heard many things about dealing with Mr. Holmes in person, and so far, he was finding that many of the claims had been… justified. However, if the study of difficult people had taught him anything, it was that unreasonable expectations and misunderstandings were often the cause of such cold behavior. Sherlock was not a patient man, clearly, and with being forced to deal with such dull and often destructive people, day in and day out, who could blame him? That in mind, it only made sense to the young detective to grin and bear it as patiently as he could. 

…besides, Mr. Holmes had just called him handsome. And sort of said that he was a flirt. Was this a good thing? He couldn’t tell, but somehow it pleased him. Just a little bit. 

“I’ll look forward to a formal invitation to Baker Street in that case, Mr. Holmes, and will leave it to you to pass on your deerstalker crown when you’re adequately ready,” Hakuba said as he walked past him and into the lobby, heading toward the reception desk. What he’d said was a playful tease, and he hoped that the smile he offered afterward made that evident.

Regardless, he didn’t give his idol the chance to rebuttal before he came to lean on the counter, face relaxing into a casual, charming expression of warmth.

“Afternoon, Miss Wells! It’s a pleasure to see you again. Do you mind if… my associate and I nip up to the security office to review the last hour or so of footage? I promise we won’t be long.”

The receptionist glanced up from her work and let her gaze move from Hakuba, whom she knew from previous visits, to Sherlock, whom she’d seen on the telly, and quirked a brow before turning back to the younger of the detectives. “Certainly, James… I’ll let them know you both are coming." 

While she lifted the receiver to inform the security team, Hakuba gave a nod, a quiet ‘thank you,’ and gestured toward the door leading to the stairwell. 

"This way, Mr. Holmes.”

by

kaitomagic:

The patterns on the ceiling were familiar. Textured scrapings of paint, put there intentionally to make it more aesthetically pleasing. The walls… they were familiar, too. He had spent a lot of time with them, this last couple of weeks… staring at them when he couldn’t sleep. Leaning against them for support when enough pain welled up to the surface again that his own legs could no longer hold him up. Hitting them when even that became too much. There were holes in the drywall that he’d have to explain whenever his mother came home again… but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered, right then, was that the sheets were still familiar, too. The fact that he could turn his head, move close to the pillow… and he could still smell him. Though it was fading with every day, he could still pick out the scent of soft cologne and earl gray… and the smell of his skin. Though the warmth was gone… and he knew it would never return. Just like the emptiness he’d never known was there before the detective had filled it would never recover from the loss and realization of its own inadequacy.
He’d always heard that there were worse things than death… and he understood what it meant, now.
Because he was the survivor.

by

whiteknighthakuba started following you

sadisticfiction:

Kado strolled down the deserted streets, grinning as he flung his arms behind him. Ah Japan, he thought to himself, skipping around the corner. It’d been forever since he had returned to his birth country – his mother’s homeland – five years at least. He loved communicating in his native tongue, and he planned to sightsee before traveling elsewhere. He’d have to pick up a stamp from the post office and maybe a phone charm as well, assuming his employers wouldn’t confiscate such an insignificant trinket. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and he sighed, glancing at the coordinates he had received. Of course the police were already here. He flipped the black hoodie over his blonde hair and turned into the alleyway.

He frowned, slinking around the police detectives who were too distracted by the crime scene to notice a skinny teen blending into the shadows – despite his tall stature. The victim appeared as an elderly man, probably late eighties or nineties, and there was no trace of any inhuman features. Interesting. A high ranking official hmm? Find out if the serial killer is human or supernatural? He didn’t understand: it wasn’t like he was a supernatural hunter; he couldn’t think of many reasons for the demons to be interested in a seemingly insignificant event. Something to do with treaties and intercultural affairs was his best guess. Oh well. First place to start was asking around and finding more out about this “man” and the other victims.

He shrugged, sliding in between two officers whose backs were turned to him with ease so he was at the other end of the alleyway. He smirked, about to head off when he felt someone’s eyes on him. He turned around with uncertainty. The brown eyes of a blonde, British teenager about his age pierced into him with suspicion. Kado gulped, understanding he’d been noticed. Of course he could make excuses, but if they searched him down… Maybe he shouldn’t be so cocky. Damn.

“Excuse me,” the aforementioned teenager said, brow raising with a skeptical glance over the other boy. “This is a closed crime scene; officers only.”

Although Kado had been attempting to leave, Hakuba had taken an interest in the scrupulous stare that he’d noticed. That meant that he was interesting. Someone of note, perhaps- if not to this investigation, then certainly for others. He licked the back of his teeth as he approached, cutting through mingling officers to put himself in a position to interrogate. 

“What are you doing here?”