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[centurybaby]

seven minutes in heaven meme!

❤ post as your characters. ❤ ❤ other characters OR anon reply with another character's name! ❤ ❤ your character makes out with that character for at least 7 comments! ❤ ❤ underage characters can awkwardly hold hands. ❤

Comments

[deductives]

[Sherlock doesn't outwardly acknowledge that Mitch has it in one. There's a reason he forgets to eat half the time. It seems they aren't quite the same in regards to lifestyle, as if that isn't readily obvious.]

A higher calling, you mean.

[Normally, he'd call it delusions of grandeur, but from what he's deduced about Mitch and the power he has in his home world, he's not so sure if it's imagined greatness. Whether it was goodness, on the other hand, he had no idea.

Sherlock rises to his feet again and steps over the short distance separating him from the mayor. His movements are quick, not leaving room for protest. He presses one hand against the wall beside Mitch's head, and the look in his eyes reflected by the flashlight is almost unreadable.]

Funnily enough, there's more important things on my mind, too. And none of it's going to be solved by being stuck here.

[viced]

[ It hits home well enough, but he doesn't want to give in. He frowns, his arms crossed over his chest, like he's in deep thought. His hair pulled back, from his hands winding through it, it makes him look older. It pronounces the hard lines in his face, the way his normal style didn't seem to let off.

Normally, he played at younger, but right now, that was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he was more focused on finding a way out, even if there was none.

But he didn't like the idea that someone wanted to see this. ]

You realize what this can mean? Right?

What it can mean for me?

[ But he doesn't say no, or deny the fact that they needed to leave. That didn't mean he was going to say that he knew it needed to happen.

He just wanted out. ]

[deductives]

[Nothing. To someone who cared so little about living bodies, kissing meant absolutely nothing, especially with no emotion behind it. This is all a stupid trick, and Sherlock Holmes is the last man to give into one of those.

Sherlock gripped Mitch's shoulder to hold him in place in case he got cold feet and they were back at square one.]

Can you hear any actual recording devices? Seeing us walking around again is enough proof for whoever put us here.

[viced]

[ He was likely to do it, too. He wanted to back off, but he really couldn't. He needed to get out, Sherlock was right about that. He had too much to take care of, too much to do. He barely took the time to eat when it didn't mean work, so it was a miracle he'd been here for this long. ]

No, but I don't trust my powers right now. You never know how this'll end up.

[deductives]

Will it be worse than people knowing you aren't willing to compromise as much as you claim for the sake of the City?

[Mitch is making excuses, so he's going for the gut, now. As much as Mitch needed to do his work, Sherlock had to solve his cases. For the sake of others and for the sake of him not going mad from boredom.

He also knows that they both can't live without the last word, so he's just going to have to claim it. Sherlock leans in and places his mouth over Mitch's, sighing heavily through his nose as he does.]

[viced]

[ The point was well-made, and he'd been about tol say something, find a way to squirm through, fancy, tricky words as always, but he didn't have them. Instead, he could only offer for Sherlock a slow nod, as if he were going to say more, but Sherlock won him over.

Or rather, he had something else to say, but it was in a different language. He started, eyes pitching wide when Sherlock pressed forward, and his lips weren't exactly pliable for kissing.

If anything, he clamped down, as if that were going to make it alright. As if this would be enough to get them out of here. ]

[deductives]

[The grim satisfaction of actually shutting Mitch up is quickly replaced by a sharp feeling of disorientation. Sherlock knew he wouldn't be given much to work with, but he isn't entirely sure how to proceed himself. He frowns against Mitch's lips as they almost suction his into place.

It's almost funny, really. Mitch isn't the only one of them to be accused of being a machine, and yet here they were placed, expected to do something entirely human. Maybe autopilot would be best, he thinks, for two automata programmed to simulate affection they didn't feel.

He tilts his head, more to free his own lips than to give Mitch any leverage. Sherlock doubts he'd do much with it.]

[viced]

[ It's true enough, Sherlock's doubts. If anything, an autopilot would only be good as what's been programmed, and Mitchell hasn't been programmed well enough to know what to do in this particular situation. He can fake being human most days, but there was no way he could fake this.

If anything, trying to fake it just makes the differences between he and normalcy even greater. Mitchell simply wasn't normal, by any stretch of the imagination, and he couldn't even fake it on this level, these days.

He'd been asked once, to kiss trouble, and he'd managed to kiss her, but it hadn't made it any easier, it hadn't been great, despite the femme fatale's swoons.

She'd been deluded.

He moved only slightly, for comfort, covering his teeth and leaving his lips hard and almost not pliant at all.

Like hard rubber, really. ]

[deductives]

[If anyone is swooning now, it's definitely not Sherlock. His movements are almost clinical, if kissing can be described that way. Even if this is more like pressing his lips against a rock for a long period of time.

Reluctantly, he tries to pry Mitch's mouth open with his own, if only to make this a more convincing show. It's an awful display that worms into the pit of his stomach, as if there's something truly offensive about kissing someone like Mitch.

As if he's much better.]