bakerstreet | Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no Lies

Also I want to make myself a cup of tea but nice things are apparently off the table since the kettle is CONTAMINATED.

Now you're just being dramatic. You've already ingested it, have all the
tea you want.

Edited 2014-08-06 08:12 (UTC)

Sounds like a great idea, I'll just go and drink more of the unidentified compound that's "not going to kill you but don't go outside". What is it?

If you know it will spoil the data.

[ all right, so he'd been experimenting with illegal compounds and failing to store and/or label anything according to the ridiculous "rules" John had laid down. so what! he's been doing that since the beginning, and he's been mostly on top of making sure John won't notice anything. surely that counts for something? he's even started putting plastic down in the living room when things get gory, isn't that considerate of him? that has to give him points. (but then, to get those points, he'd have to admit to having performed gory experiments in the living room to begin with, and those sorts of things just cause John to squawk and turn increasingly medically unsound colours and throw out delicate equipment, so. perhaps that ought to stay unspoken.)

so maybe this time he'd been experimenting with various forms of so-called truth serum, and maybe this time he hadn't felt like putting it all away properly when Molly texted him a picture of a corpse turned inside-out, and maybe he'd gone ahead and poured everything into whatever containers he'd seen laying unused about the kitchen. maybe if John didn't insist on having a cuppa every sixth breath like a good stout Englishman ought, he wouldn't have gone and dosed himself with an untested blend. obviously that's not Sherlock's fault.

regardless of how absolutely not his responsibility any of this is, it's only a few minutes of texting back and forth before Sherlock comes clattering up the steps to 221, then thundering even further up to 221b -- and promptly slowing down in order to make his actual entrance into the flat as casual and nonchalant as possible, though the leaf stuck in his hair and hastily-wrapped scarf obstinately refuse to coordinate with his intention of hiding his mad-dash rush from Bart's to cab to flat. if he thought he could get away with it, he'd try to whistle an innocent little tune as he swung idly through the door to make up for it.

he keeps up the act all the way into the living room until he's standing right in front of John (good, nothing looks out of the ordinary --), at which point he drops into his chair facing John and leans forward, hands on knees, all long-legged bird of prey with his intent expression.

well, it didn't work via text, which was only to be expected. now let's see about in-person interrogation. ]

What colour are your pants today then, John?

Edited 2014-08-06 08:33 (UTC)

[ John Watson is quietly furious. he's good at quietly furious by now, he's really got a handle on all the ways to communicate I would like to send your nose backwards into your head in such a way that no surgeon could reconstruct your face without having to say a word. and so when Sherlock comes leaping up the stairs like somebody set a bunch of schoolkids loose and pointed them in the direction of Wonka's bloody chocolate factory, he's well equipped to remain sitting neatly in his chair, the phone that he's been unblinkingly glaring at for the majority of its inclusion in this latest astounding (really, it is astounding) development left out to rest on the arm, just ahead of his closed fist.

there are things he can put up with, has come not to mind. body parts in places body parts can probably be expected to be (if you discount the fact that this is a domestic kitchen), chemicals tucked in next to the sugar, these are things he can accept. but what you don't do, what you just do not do, is mess with the sanctity of the kettle. tea is a safe place. do not tamper with tea.

so, Sherlock's nonchalant act lasts just long enough for it to have been a complete waste of time (I do have ears you prick), and then he's settled down and swooping in with a - what? what colour pants? are you trying for another sock to the jaw - and John's all ready to rise back up to meet him and he opens his mouth to start— ]

White.

[ — oh. what? oh. and just like that, the fire's ripped right out from under his arse. that was absolutely not any of the things queued up to come out of his mouth. ... no, alright, let's try that again - ]

Off white, they're not new.

[ ..... ? ]

[ ah, success. obviously Sherlock had to open with the kind of question John wouldn't even consider answering, lest he unintentionally startle John into telling the truth as opposed to being influenced by the serum specifically. John's entire reaction answers more than just Sherlock's random query, exactly as he'd intended, and Sherlock's face breaks out into that unevenly-quirked grin, triumphant.

this opens up so many other possibilities. if Sherlock asks a question with an open-ended answer, will John simply talk until forced to stop? can he refuse to speak, or does he absolutely have to? can John still speak falsehoods at all -- that is, will he only answer questions with honesty while still being able to lie independently, or will he be compelled to speak truthfully no matter the subject or line of thought?

all right, so this violates a few laws and probably speeds past so many personal space boundaries that it leaves them in the dust, but come on, it's essentially harmless. it's not even remotely the same as attempting to dose John with an unknown hallucinogen or anything, and it'll wear off eventually.

oh. he should probably clarify all of that, shouldn't he. ]

You weren't listening last night when I said I'd be working with different distillations of what's commonly thought of as 'truth serum', were you?

Yeah, apparently not.

[ no, not really, but if he wasn't listening then how was he supposed to know what he wasn't listening to? which was apparently a soon-to-be-relevant bit about... truth serum.

truth serum. truth serum? ] You were working on a truth serum.

[ white pants. off white pants, they're not new. ] Which I drank.

[ it's a question, sort of, even if he knows the answer and consequently doesn't bother lilting it up at the end. truth serum. white pants. if those two pieces of information (truth serum / which i drank) remain correct then by all accounts it's working, which is about as ridiculous as the fact Sherlock was bothering with it in the first place.

right. okay. give him a second or two to realign himself. ]

[ interesting answer. not compelled to respond with flat "yes" or "no" at all, or simply given more leeway with a flexibly-worded question? ]

Working with, not working on. I was comparing their physical characteristics and effects on objects, not planning to administer it to anyone. Besides, what use would I have for truth serum? That's practically cheating.

[ oh, good, he's offended Sherlock's delicate sensibilities. cue the hand dragged over the face as John tries his very best to work out whether or not he's still angry under all the bewildered fog. ]

I don't know. [ that was absolutely not the cutting remark he was going for. ] But it isn't actually as if you can deduce everything completely correctly every time, is it?

[ ... better? still not what he was trying for, but it's just close enough to a decent alternative that John can raise his eyebrows at him over the top of his hand in a vague display of satisfaction, halfway pleased with the results ]

[ how dare you besmirch his flawless record of -- well, no. (short for Harriet.)

either way, another point of data: the serum doesn't compel a concrete answer if there isn't one to be had. obviously John wouldn't know what use Sherlock would have for a truth serum. ]

Of course not, but then I'd never have any fun.

[ he does, in fact, rather delight in being wrong much of the time. not when big mistakes that cost him dearly, of course, but in little things that only mean there's more for him to learn, more information to consume, more to do. ]

Though there really isn't any point in using it on you, anyway. You're certainly not hiding anything from me, are you?

[ -- rhetorical. the question is rhetorical. in fact, he snorts his own amusement at the idea, at the notion that John could hide anything from him. John "open book" Watson, the two of them living in each other's pockets as they do, and Sherlock being who he is. frankly, if there was anyone less useful to have accidentally ingested the serum, Sherlock couldn't think of them. Molly, perhaps. Or Mrs Hudson. ]

Edited (using the same word twice in as many sentences.........................) 2014-08-08 06:53 (UTC)

[ then I'd never have any fun. the smile plucks up, gratefully hidden, equals parts exasperation and (god help him) resigned fondness. only once he's scrubbed it away does his hand leave his face to wave vaguely in the air, dismissive...

and then his mouth opens. ]

Plenty.

[ — ah?

what? John's frown is immediate, and it's confused. the answer is apparently as much as surprise to him as it might be to Sherlock, and not just because it slipped out at all. there are things he hasn't said, yeah, a lot of things he hasn't said and probably would rather never have to and probably never would unless Sherlock asked, asked again and then maybe hacked into a government database and confronted him with the facts or... well, whipped out a truth serum (brilliant), but is that the same as hiding?

yeah. yeah, probably, now that he thinks about it. which is about the point that his bafflement starts to fade into a vague look of trepidation. ]

What, like where you've stashed the biscuits? I don't know if I'd call that "hiding"...

[ oh. watching John's expressions shift tells Sherlock all he needs to know -- that his confession was not only unintentional, but deeply more telling than even John had recognized it to be.

this is new. Sherlock's own expressions change too, his mouth going from a fondly-contemptuous twist, to a small startled O, to a wide delighted V, all the while taking in each loudly-broadcasting change of John's own face. ]

No? No...

[ of course, he literally just said that using a serum in order to ply the truth out of anyone would be cheating, would be boring, would take the fun out of using his own intellect -- but surely if John has been managing to hide things from him for all this time, it wouldn't be cheating in that case, to use what's presented in order to get a little understanding?

the idea that John may have been hiding things from him unintentionally, or simply not sharing things he'd deemed unimportant, certainly occurs to him, and he dismisses them utterly. everything about John is important in one way or another, from his past to his tea preferences to his middle name. that he might be hiding these things for a reason, that Sherlock does not actually have a right to their access -- well. that doesn't occur to him. what could be so important that Sherlock doesn't deserve to know? he already knows about Harry, about Afghanistan, and if there was anything truly dark lurking in John's past, Mycroft would have had him shot before he'd set foot in Baker Street. really, there was no need for John to look like a witness to his own hanging.

thus, Sherlock pounces. ]

What is one thing you're not telling me?

[ might as well start small and broadly-termed. (ish.) ]

[ he knew it was going to happen. he knew, as soon as he realised what it meant for the word to have slipped out, that the very next thing that was going to happen was... well, Sherlock. the knowledge doesn't do a lot to stop the wince, or the way his face pinches when he says - ]

My sixth form Biology teacher was called Mrs. Wingate.

[ and then, just as swiftly after that's out: ]

We're not doing this, Sherlock.

[ ooh. annoying, but well done. John's obvious discomfort is dismissed as unimportant -- John presents discomfort to a lot of things Sherlock does, but often goes along quite willingly anyway. surely this will be no different. after all, he can't possibly be hiding anything bad. ]

Don't be stupid, we obviously are. Let's establish a baseline to see if you can lie at all. Tell me my eyes are orange.

[ right. well, if he's going to be a dick about it, John's going to do exactly the same and screw his precious data. ]

No.

[ rather than be irritated, Sherlock grins, utterly delighted by John retaining his ability to obfuscate. ] Very impressive, an answer without an answer.

[ in all honesty, he'd been intending to get John to submit to a quick physical check -- letting Sherlock take a look in his mouth to see if there was any visible indication of the serum, for example, so Sherlock could deduce the use of such a thing in the event of a future case, but this is far more interesting.

after all, this is little more than a game to him, with nothing more severe riding on its reveal than some regretful misadventures of John's youth or maybe a few more unpleasant Watson family histories. the facts are: if it was really important, Sherlock would have figured it out by now. therefore, it couldn't possibly be. and whatever irrelevant trifles John's trying to keep concealed now would inevitably not live up to the effort with which John tries to hide them anymore, but Sherlock is curious. ]

Is it to do with your sister? I'll be terribly disappointed it if is, actually.

[ oh, god. he's not going to let this go, is he? there's no way, absolutely no way, he's going to let this go. and the truth serum is apparently effective, which is just as bloody brilliant, and— well. two options. one, sit here and deal with Sherlock's questions. two, stand up and walk out and commit himself to a foreseeable future of constantly dealing with Sherlock's questions. it strikes John that it would probably do them both a bit of good to work out exactly how effective the serum is before he stalks off and condemns himself to a lifetime of Sherlock pestering him about personal matters he might have managed never to bring up at all if he'd just sat still.

alright. alright, John, let's give this a go. it's probably going to be better than the alternative, it might be just as bad as, but fingers crossed so long as you keep your wits about you it won't be worse.

that decision made, John does his best to ease up, release tensions and stop his face doing whatever it's... doing. something not very happy, let's stop that, it'll probably just egg him on. falling into a slightly stiff display of nonchalance, John tops off the show by reaching for the paper folded up at his side and flattening it out, turning to a random page in the middle he stands approximately zero chance of actually reading. ]

There are lots of things you don't know about my sister.

[ ... allowed, apparently. good. vague is fine, at least with that question. noted. ]

[ looking utterly amused, Sherlock watches as John comes to the conclusion that he might as well sit it out, puts an admirable effort into unclenching and looking unaffected, and casts about for a serum-accepted non-answer. the show does not disappoint. honestly, everything would be so much easier for everyone if they just did as he asked with no questions. ]

And I don't care a bit about any of them, which you're well aware, so that can't be it or you wouldn't be getting so worked up over hiding it.

[ but... oh, all right. Sherlock hates repeating himself, even when he hasn't actually said the thought out loud the first time, but if John will insist on being such a martyr, Sherlock can stand to do it this once: ]

I know you're not hiding anything terrible or my brother would have had you shot in that car park, and I already know about Afghanistan and Harry's drinking, so relax.

[ he intends it to be reassuring. really. that's the best he's got.

after half a heartbeat of deliberate consideration of word choice and phrasing, he says: ] What is one thing you are deliberately concealing from me?

[ surely allowing for John to not be forced into pouring out the entire list counts as A Good Thing? he's being thoughtful. considerate. ] Also, stick out your tongue, I actually do have other tests to run on this.

[ well, no reason he can't do two things at once. ]

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no Lies

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