He merely didn't feel like playing this silly game Mycroft wanted of him. He didn't want a human, didn't care for it one bit. He was perfectly fine doing things his way, no matter what his brother thought of it. Or anyone else. That was the thing most likely.
A Holmes drinking from small animals like some low life. Like some nobody. It must sting so badly for his brother, for his entire line. Probably part of why Sherlock did it, beyond just not wanting to deal with the whole human factor. Also to prove that he could function just fine on his diet of small animals, though Mycroft insisted that he would never be at his full potential eating that way.
"If I were sulking I would not be here." Sherlock speaks up, stepping out from the shadows. He's clearly not invested in the whole ordeal, head down and looking at a cellphone that he's typing away on. The human's fear is so thick he has to look up and take a peek at him, at first glance he would seem normal. Boring. Ordinary. Heart rate quicker than normal due to said fear, typical human.
And then Sherlock sniffs, just a little, as if clearing his nose of something, but no. No it's to get a smell of the human, his scent. He... John, smells... interesting. Even Sherlock's interest is mildly piqued.
"Watson's son I take it." Not a question, more a statement of fact. He'd been around her enough to smell the hint of her in John's blood, but John... he was much more than just that.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-11-03 10:32 pm (UTC)He merely didn't feel like playing this silly game Mycroft wanted of him. He didn't want a human, didn't care for it one bit. He was perfectly fine doing things his way, no matter what his brother thought of it. Or anyone else. That was the thing most likely.
A Holmes drinking from small animals like some low life. Like some nobody. It must sting so badly for his brother, for his entire line. Probably part of why Sherlock did it, beyond just not wanting to deal with the whole human factor. Also to prove that he could function just fine on his diet of small animals, though Mycroft insisted that he would never be at his full potential eating that way.
"If I were sulking I would not be here." Sherlock speaks up, stepping out from the shadows. He's clearly not invested in the whole ordeal, head down and looking at a cellphone that he's typing away on. The human's fear is so thick he has to look up and take a peek at him, at first glance he would seem normal. Boring. Ordinary. Heart rate quicker than normal due to said fear, typical human.
And then Sherlock sniffs, just a little, as if clearing his nose of something, but no. No it's to get a smell of the human, his scent. He... John, smells... interesting. Even Sherlock's interest is mildly piqued.
"Watson's son I take it." Not a question, more a statement of fact. He'd been around her enough to smell the hint of her in John's blood, but John... he was much more than just that.