First Person (entry type): [It's simple, to the point, and has been sent to all of your devices with an obnoxious little beep attached. It's different from the usual layout; it's persistent, expertly formatted and particularly hard to exit. Only when it's been read and left on the screen for a minute or so will it disappear, and even then, it remains marked unread. If you're unlucky (or your name happens to be one John Watson), you might find that it lingers for quite a bit longer.]
This is a very insistent little virus, isn't it? Clever, I suppose, if you're twelve years old and just discovering how to manipulate coding. My question is: Why would anyone choose Livejournal? It's garish, bright, uninformative and full of some of the most dim-witted people I have ever had the displeasure of reading about.
Yes, you're all idiots; deal with it. SH
Third Person:
It wouldn't be long until John answered his call. He's as predictable as he is loyal. He had John figured out in minutes - so honest, pure and earnest. Serving his Queen and his country, standing tall and proud, like only a soldier would. But it's useless. John isn't just a soldier, he's a wounded solider, broken from the inside out, unable to achieve the normality he so desperately wants to have - because he's not happiest doing the things a civilian does, he's happiest running through the darkened streets of London city, gun cocked and waiting for Sherlock's order. John needs the thrill of the chase, because there's nothing quite as gratifying as having every piece of the puzzle fall into place the exact way Sherlock said that it would. Because there's nothing quite as gratifying as having a murderer stare down the barrel of his aimed gun. He needs to see the world like a war zone, him firmly planted on the 'good' side, whilst everyone else remains on the 'bad'.
Sherlock just wants the Rubik's cube to twist and turn and break apart before putting it back together.
So he knows. He knows that John is limping, he knows that he's missing his life in London, he knows that there's nothing here to keep him occupied because Sherlock himself is suffering from the exact same problem. He misses the macabre lifestyle Sherlock brings with him, and Sherlock misses the macabre full stop. But it's only a matter of time until someone here does something interesting. If history has told Sherlock anything, humanity always brings death and destruction along with it; it would only be a matter of time until someone brilliant snaps, until they feel the need to lash out and take what they consider to be theirs. Sherlock can do nothing but wait, so that's what he does, fingernails idly scratching against his communicator, tapping out various rhythms, just to hear more than this deafening silence.
It's been eighteen minutes and roughly thirty seconds since he sent his text, and he can hear John moving across the floorboards (and it's definitely him; a limp, almost forgotten now that he's at the door and knuckles are dragging against the wood in an unseen greeting). He smiles, barely lifting his eyes up.
Additionally! » We have an Activity Check at dramadramaduck every two months and the next one is in February. Because your application was accepted in January, you will not be required to participate! » Our requirements are simply 20 comments. These can be from your characters journal, others journals, or any post on the main community. Any posts your character makes his/herself will count as a comment itself. » If you have any questions about the AC/AC requirements or anything else, feel free to contact any of the moderators; our contact information is available on any of our communities profiles. :)
Re: Sherlock Holmes // BBC's Sherlock // Reserved. 10/10 (so so sorry)
[It's simple, to the point, and has been sent to all of your devices with an obnoxious little beep attached. It's different from the usual layout; it's persistent, expertly formatted and particularly hard to exit. Only when it's been read and left on the screen for a minute or so will it disappear, and even then, it remains marked unread. If you're unlucky (or your name happens to be one John Watson), you might find that it lingers for quite a bit longer.]
This is a very insistent little virus, isn't it? Clever, I suppose, if you're twelve years old and just discovering how to manipulate coding. My question is: Why would anyone choose Livejournal? It's garish, bright, uninformative and full of some of the most dim-witted people I have ever had the displeasure of reading about.
Yes, you're all idiots; deal with it.
SH
Third Person:
It wouldn't be long until John answered his call. He's as predictable as he is loyal. He had John figured out in minutes - so honest, pure and earnest. Serving his Queen and his country, standing tall and proud, like only a soldier would. But it's useless. John isn't just a soldier, he's a wounded solider, broken from the inside out, unable to achieve the normality he so desperately wants to have - because he's not happiest doing the things a civilian does, he's happiest running through the darkened streets of London city, gun cocked and waiting for Sherlock's order. John needs the thrill of the chase, because there's nothing quite as gratifying as having every piece of the puzzle fall into place the exact way Sherlock said that it would. Because there's nothing quite as gratifying as having a murderer stare down the barrel of his aimed gun. He needs to see the world like a war zone, him firmly planted on the 'good' side, whilst everyone else remains on the 'bad'.
Sherlock just wants the Rubik's cube to twist and turn and break apart before putting it back together.
So he knows. He knows that John is limping, he knows that he's missing his life in London, he knows that there's nothing here to keep him occupied because Sherlock himself is suffering from the exact same problem. He misses the macabre lifestyle Sherlock brings with him, and Sherlock misses the macabre full stop. But it's only a matter of time until someone here does something interesting. If history has told Sherlock anything, humanity always brings death and destruction along with it; it would only be a matter of time until someone brilliant snaps, until they feel the need to lash out and take what they consider to be theirs. Sherlock can do nothing but wait, so that's what he does, fingernails idly scratching against his communicator, tapping out various rhythms, just to hear more than this deafening silence.
It's been eighteen minutes and roughly thirty seconds since he sent his text, and he can hear John moving across the floorboards (and it's definitely him; a limp, almost forgotten now that he's at the door and knuckles are dragging against the wood in an unseen greeting). He smiles, barely lifting his eyes up.
"It's open."
ACCEPTED
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» We have an Activity Check at
» Our requirements are simply 20 comments. These can be from your characters journal, others journals, or any post on the main community. Any posts your character makes his/herself will count as a comment itself.
» If you have any questions about the AC/AC requirements or anything else, feel free to contact any of the moderators; our contact information is available on any of our communities profiles. :)
Re: ACCEPTED