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writetomyheart2018-03-06 09:01 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2018-03-06 09:01 pm
Entry tags:
[team three] the blue hour
I had a little trouble with the first word, so I decided to tackle a little (massive) plot au that’s been lurking around my head. While the (possible) finished story, if it ever happens, is likely to be very different, it was fun to dip my toes in the water.
“Asshole.”
Will barely even hears the word as he's leaving the house, or rather, crime scene. It's not that he's out of practice, even though Jack’s really called in a huge favour this time. It's far too easy to slip back into the borrowed skin, and just as reluctant to be fully shaken off. He misses the weight of Hannibal’s hand, gently resting on his arm.
Compared to his own internal landscape, disgruntled crime scene technicians who may or may not be talking about him behind his back barely register. Will barely pauses as he steps over the threshold, avoiding the spatter along the floor. This is a favour for Jack. Hannibal is flying in, and as soon as he's spoken to the DI, he can let the images of the house fade into the past.
“Anderson, if you must show off your lack of intelligence with insultingly pedestrian insults, kindly stay home .”
Will’s surprised to hear a new voice, confident rather than the stilted tones that the police always seem to fall into when faced with scenes like this, no matter the language or location. He pauses, glances up. There’s a smartly dressed man standing on the front walk, coat flapping in the chill breeze and he stalks up the paving stones. He's accompanied by a shorter man, mouth set but eyes oddly amused.
Before Will has a chance to react, there's a buzz from his pocket. When he pulls it out, the message on the screen is from Hannibal.
“The flight has just landed. Please give Mr. Holmes my greetings.”
When he glances up, the black-coated man is observing him closely.
“Well John, this is the first interesting thing I've seen this week,” he says to his companion, presumably John. John glares at him.
“I take it there's no need to have you see the crime scene then, Sherlock?” Will glances back to see the DI stepping out through the front door behind him.
Sherlock ignores John, waving his hand at the DI. “Well, I suppose since we’re here already—” John rolls his eyes.
“Freak,” Will hears from the front room of the house, presumably Anderson, and the DI sighs.
“Just get on with it,” he tells Sherlock, before gesturing to Will. Will steps aside, assuming he's meant to allow Sherlock and John to pass, but Sherlock just pauses next to him.
“Please give Dr. Lector my greetings,” Sherlock says, and Will blinks before nodding. Sherlock continues into the house, looking remarkably pleased for no reason Will can fathom. John just looks apologetic.
“So what do you have for us, Mr. Graham?” the DI asks.
Will takes a breath, but before he has time to respond, there's an outraged shout from the house that sounds remarkably like Anderson. The DI rests a hand over his eyes for a moment.
“Hold that thought,” he says, and steps past Will, back into the house. Will glances up at the grey sky, threatening rain, and thinks about his own questions instead.
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miyeokguk, you’re up!
“Asshole.”
Will barely even hears the word as he's leaving the house, or rather, crime scene. It's not that he's out of practice, even though Jack’s really called in a huge favour this time. It's far too easy to slip back into the borrowed skin, and just as reluctant to be fully shaken off. He misses the weight of Hannibal’s hand, gently resting on his arm.
Compared to his own internal landscape, disgruntled crime scene technicians who may or may not be talking about him behind his back barely register. Will barely pauses as he steps over the threshold, avoiding the spatter along the floor. This is a favour for Jack. Hannibal is flying in, and as soon as he's spoken to the DI, he can let the images of the house fade into the past.
“Anderson, if you must show off your lack of intelligence with insultingly pedestrian insults, kindly stay home .”
Will’s surprised to hear a new voice, confident rather than the stilted tones that the police always seem to fall into when faced with scenes like this, no matter the language or location. He pauses, glances up. There’s a smartly dressed man standing on the front walk, coat flapping in the chill breeze and he stalks up the paving stones. He's accompanied by a shorter man, mouth set but eyes oddly amused.
Before Will has a chance to react, there's a buzz from his pocket. When he pulls it out, the message on the screen is from Hannibal.
“The flight has just landed. Please give Mr. Holmes my greetings.”
When he glances up, the black-coated man is observing him closely.
“Well John, this is the first interesting thing I've seen this week,” he says to his companion, presumably John. John glares at him.
“I take it there's no need to have you see the crime scene then, Sherlock?” Will glances back to see the DI stepping out through the front door behind him.
Sherlock ignores John, waving his hand at the DI. “Well, I suppose since we’re here already—” John rolls his eyes.
“Freak,” Will hears from the front room of the house, presumably Anderson, and the DI sighs.
“Just get on with it,” he tells Sherlock, before gesturing to Will. Will steps aside, assuming he's meant to allow Sherlock and John to pass, but Sherlock just pauses next to him.
“Please give Dr. Lector my greetings,” Sherlock says, and Will blinks before nodding. Sherlock continues into the house, looking remarkably pleased for no reason Will can fathom. John just looks apologetic.
“So what do you have for us, Mr. Graham?” the DI asks.
Will takes a breath, but before he has time to respond, there's an outraged shout from the house that sounds remarkably like Anderson. The DI rests a hand over his eyes for a moment.
“Hold that thought,” he says, and steps past Will, back into the house. Will glances up at the grey sky, threatening rain, and thinks about his own questions instead.
miyeokguk, you’re up!