bakerstreet | the relationship meme

the relationship meme

☁ THE RELATIONSHIP MEME

Dramatic or cracky, there are options for everyone who has a sudden itching to play out some ships.

↘ Post your character below, listing their name and series in the subject.
↘ Others respond after going to random.org and entering 1-16 for a scene, reply back and have some fun!
↘ Roll as many times as you like! Play out as many scenarios as you want! Just enjoy the fluffy or angsty goodness.

● 01 I HAVE A CONFESSION | There's someone you really like and it's finally time to tell them! It can be spur of the moment or elaborately planned out.
● 02 START OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL | You've just got together and everything is great! You can't stop thinking about each other or keep your hands off your significant other. You want to spend all the time you can together, doing whatever!
● 03 CAN'T GET IT UP | It happens to everyone, honest! For whatever reason, you just haven't been able to perform or maybe you're just not interested in sex. Is it because things are dull? Is it because you're not attracted to your partner? Or have you just been too busy or stressed out?
● 04 SAW YOU LAST NIGHT | You think you saw your partner in the arms of another - was it an honest mistake or is something honestly going on here?
● 05 FIRST TIME | It's the first kiss or the first time making love with your partner and you're so nervous and awkward, you're sure you'll mess it up! Maybe you do, but that's okay... they like you, right?
● 06 ANNIVERSARY | Two week, two month, two year, or whatever number you decide, that's how long you've been together with your partner and you want to do something special to celebrate it!
● 07 WANT YOU BACK | You broke up, but it was a mistake. You need to correct it ASAP... will your lover take you back though?
● 08 JUST MARRIED | Just married! Is it the wedding night? The honeymoon? You decide!
● 09 BAD ROMANCE | You're no good for each other and you know it! Unfortunately, your relationship is so sizzling, you can't break it off and you don't even want to.
● 10 FIGHT | You're both in one of those moods where you just want to sit around fighting over every little thing... bills or money, friends, your partner staying out too late, or whatever you can think of!
● 11 LET'S MAKE UP | Of course making up is the best part though! Whatever it was is totally forgotten now.
● 12 HONEY, I'M... | You've been feeling a little funny for a bit, so you take a pregnancy test and... oh no! Or is it 'oh great!'? Time to tell your partner either way...
● 13 ABOUT LAST NIGHT | Time to face that one night stand...
● 14 CHEATER | You're not being cheated on! You're the other person meddling with someone's lover! But for whatever reason, you just can't say no even if you know you should...
● 15 OBJECTIONS | You're facing a lot of objections to your relationship and it's starting to put a strain on it. Why don't you sit down and discuss it, see if you can work it out?
● 16 HAVE TO LET YOU GO | You have to break up with your partner... not because you want to! But because you need to protect them... can you do it successfully? Will they find out? You decide!

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"You know he won't write back," she answers, her breath warm and close to his ear. "She will."

"I don't want her to write back," he says. "I'd rather she didn't write at all, but I suspect you knew that."

She hummed thoughtfully, the sound a low tickling buzz close to his skin. She sounds remarkably real, remarkably there for being a figment of his imagination as she tells him.

"But you read her letter nonetheless," she answers. "Instead of blending it into the good doctor's breakfast."

She wants him to believe that she's just part of his psyche, some disinterested and cruel piece of himself. And for so long, he didn't believe her but---how could she know?

"Checking for evidence," he says. "She could have posted something to me."

"And why would you care if she has, unless there was a murder behind it?" she counters, drawing her nails along his arm.

"You're still looking for answers. I'd say you were heartbroken but, well, you're Sherlock. You'd deny it even to me."

He turns to face her.

"Everything we had was a lie," he says, firmly. "Heartbroken would be the mild, gooey form that twitter blathers about."

She smiles, the curve of her lip a blood red sickle, all cold triumph, and she presses her lips against his cheek in a fleeting kiss, taunting in its ephemerality and solidity.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." She steps away from him, moving back to stand in front of the television screens. "Jamie Moriarty. I prefer Irene Adler."

"I prefer Irene Adler as well," he says, turning to watch her, silhouetted by the light from the televisions. "I was wondering why you hadn't changed as my opinion of her did."

She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow, imperial in her thin patience. Her words are crisp, expectant. "And your conclusion?"

"I don't want you to change," he replies. Whether or not this is his conclusion, or simply an expression of personal fact is really up for grabs. There's very little that's certain when it comes to Irene Adler---the Irene Adler he knew, or the enigmatic woman that stands before him in his tee-shirt.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest, seeming to consider his answer. "Is that so?" she says. "Have you ever tried to change me?"

"You make that sound like a challenge," he says, raising an eyebrow. "One you can't make me fulfill."

She smirks at that, and uncrosses her arms, running a long, red tipped nail along the tops of one of the televisions. "One you won't try to fulfill," she corrects.

"Which are you more afraid of, Sherlock? That I am simply a malleable figment of your self-flagellating imagination--" A pause and a smile tugs at her mouth at that. "Or that I'm not, and thus obviously something more than a product of your unravelling mind?"

"I am not afraid," he says, uselessly. Of course he is. She appears without warning, she leaves without warning. Sometimes he dreams that he meets her in expensive hotels that he's never been to while she denies his existence. He thinks he already knows that she's part of his slowly manifesting madness. It is, of course, the only thing he can think could be true.

"And I won't and you can not make me," he says. "So we're both right."

"Now you're just trying to provoke me into pointing out all the things I can make you do," she admonishes. "So eager to disprove the idea of a refractory period?"

"To you, I'll allow myself to be predictable," he says. "And your current outfit has long since disproved the refractory period, Irene."

Not that the presence of an erection would truly mean the ability to perform, for him. Heroin use had long since ruined his renowned sexual prowess, though he did know how to compensate in ways that would make people like Jenn unaware. Irene, however...

She gestures to the chair she'd been sitting in. "You could wait for me to slip into something more comfortable," she answers, "But then I might not come back."

He takes a step towards her. If she's his madness, then she's bound to return. Whether or not she'll become more like Jamie Moriarty is uncertain. But she must return. If she isn't---

He lowers himself to his knees in front of her. Her long legs are just out of his reach. If there is anything being in recovery for so long has done, it has taught him the value of prostrating himself in front of what he wants.

"Stay," he asks.

The sound of his knees hitting the worn wood floor almost echoes in the room, and Irene's smile grows. Her heels click, ringing like ricocheting like gunshots as she circles him. Her steps stop directly behind him, and she is silent for a long moment, as if she has already disappeared.

"Tell me why you want me to."

He thinks about this woman in front of him. She isn't like Jenn, she doesn't need cloying words and apologies to bring her to his level. She isn't like his Irene, the Irene who needed to be impressed by how not-boring he could be. No, this Irene needs something different. The truth.

"You are the only mystery I want to solve," he says, trying to ignore how hard his heart is beating at the thought that she's already vanished from behind him.

"That's better," she says, almost purring in approval, still directly behind him, out of arm's reach. But then three clicks of her high heels, three steps, and her nails are dragging paths along his back.

"But we both know the mystery's only interesting before it's solved, now don't we?"

"Depends on the mystery," he says. "Depends on what you've solved."

He lets out a low sigh at the feel of her nails against his back. He imagines long, red lines against his skin. The image of her marking him, hurting him, punishing him. Wanting him. He doesn't know if Irene wants him, or if he just desperately wants her to. Every time she returns she seduces him mentally again and again, but he always feels that he falls short of reciprocating.

He sighs, and sight unseen she smiles, leaning close from behind, the fabric of his shirt warmed by her body heat brushing against his skin. Her lips are close to his ear, a bare whisper, when she answers.

"Ah, but if you're right, you'd be solving the mystery of your own growing insanity. We can't have that from the brilliant Sherlock Holmes, now can we?"

She's tormenting him. It's what she does, it's why she must be a product of his mind. She knows just how to torture him, how to hurt him. Except Irene, Irene would be able to know.

"Can't we?" he asks, leaning slightly into her touch.

Her hand slides across his back to his front, blood red nails against his chest. Her motions are precise, knowing, calculated to draw pain with impossibly sharp nails even as the soft pads of her fingertips linger warm afterwards.

"Giving in already?" she tsks, her mouth still close to his ear, every word a warm, light breath. "I've hardly begun playing with you."

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