Morning After Meme

[memesss]

MORNING AFTER MEME



Last night was pretty wild, or maybe it wasn't. You have just woken up, but you are not alone. Perhaps it is a stranger lying next to you, perhaps it's someone you know. It might be your significant other, or a one night stand. The fact remains that you are in bed together, naked (or maybe not) and something happened.

HOW THIS WORKS; 

➊ comment with your character!
➋ reply to others with wild shenanigans.
➌ soap opera drama ensues.


[lovingly stolen from all over the place]

Comments

[sherly_no_mates]

Before you startle—

[But no, no; it is too late. And oh, oh the things that cannot be unseen. Oh-h, breasts. Now is absolutely not the time to have the physiological reaction of embarrassment. There will be no blushing. Staring at the wall. He is staring at the wall. He is not looking at Mary. He is not looking at Mary covering herself back up. He is sitting in bed naked with no covers protecting his modesty . . . whatsoever. Oh. Oh. Fine.]

Pardon pour un moment, s'il vous plait.

[He requires that corner—just that corner—. Unhand the sheets, woman! He is naked with everything currently on display! Have a glare back, stubborn, until—fine. He will use the pillow, shall he? He sits up fully on the bed, pillow obscuring the view. But not much of it. Now then.]

Now, remembering to remain calm, we must decide what the last thing you remember is. If we can identify what proceeded the current circumstances, we can then lay to rest any concerns of . . . indecencies.

[He was high and evidentally passed out. The rest of the night is a bit of a blur.]

[verypatientwoman]

[Stubborn? You really think that a stubborn look will match the outraged-Victorian-lady death-glare that Mary is giving you? No, you are not getting the sheets. In fact, she will yank them out of your hand and make a small, high-pitched, extremely indignant noise. First you wake up next to her while they're both naked, and then you try to take her only means of retaining at least a marginal level of dignity? Scoundrel!]

[While you adjust the pillow, it's her turn to stare at the wall. Stare at the wall and wonder why it seems to be her fate in life to constantly end up around naked members of the Holmes family. At least this one is nicer to look at than his older brother. Not that she's looking. She's not looking. Not at all.]

Indecencies. [Okay, that does make her look at you. Just your face, though. Only the face.] What kind of woman do you take me for, Mr Holmes?

[There were no indecencies. She refuses to admit the possibility of there having been any indecencies. Even if she doesn't remember anything about last night aside from John getting called away on a patient emergency and asking her to answer Holmes' request for company in his stead. And even if she's feeling a bit . . . raw around the privates. That is a very, very personal detail that she has no intention of sharing with anyone. Least of all with a naked man who is not her husband, and who tried to steal the sheets.]

[sherly_no_mates]

[What kind of woman? The female kind. Unpredictable, unknowable, untrutstworthy, and irrational. Possessed of sub-par intelligence, which is to say, average. Based on the experience of the last five minutes, a woman who would rather mistake him and give fancy to her flights of emotion than discuss this sensibly. That is the correct answer but not the acceptable one. Politeness must be maintained, even in the most extreme circumstances. Accuracy must give way to civility—but only a little.]

A common one.

[Ah! Too fast, his mouth. Damn his mind for producing speech too quickly.]

[verypatientwoman]

[. . . she doesn't even have an answer to that. Any word she could label Holmes with in response to this statement is not appropriate for a woman of her standing to utter, or actually even to think. So what she's going to do, after gathering the sheets up awkwardly in her left, is use her right hand to give Holmes a hard, resounding slap.]

[She spent quite some time working as a governess. She knows how to give slaps that hurt, but leave no mark.]

[sherly_no_mates]

[. . . Right. Right. Of course. Good. Expected. Hands clenched in the pillow, he tilts his chin at Mary, a smothered offended smile on his face. He can—almost—respect that. But not quite. Not quite. He won't do her the pleasure of touching the sting on his cheek.]

Pressing on.

[They have work to be doing. It is of course possible that something of a carnal nature passed between them. Possible but highly unlikely, if he may rely on his own character. The after-effects of a drug remain in his system, a hyper-awareness and over-sensitivity of the mind, blurred at the edges and over-sharp in the centre. Cocaine is one definitive cause. Cocaine and . . . something else?]

You must try to recall what the last thing you remember is. You must tell me any sign, any symptom you are . . . experiencing, apart from the obvious [For of course the nudity and displeasure with him is exceedingly clear], not normal to your usual state.

[verypatientwoman]

[She watches that head-tilt, teeth clenched, and waits for him to speak. When he does, it's all she can do not to slap him again. She doesn't appreciate being dismissed, and she would like an apology. But if Holmes is too ill-mannered to provide one, she's not going to ask.]

I will do no such thing. [Adjusting the sheets once more, and avoiding looking at Holmes by scanning the room. Ah, her clothes are here. That's a silver lining.] You will leave right now and provide me with some manner of privacy so I can make myself decent. I will find my own way home. We shall never speak of this again. [On that last sentence, she catches Holmes' eyes. Is that clear? Not a single word.]

[sherly_no_mates]

[A theoretically reasonable plan, Mary, but . . . No.]

Outside that door there is a wooden stairs leading down into a yard populated at this time of day by those most decrepit of London's slavery. [Unemployed day-labourers and prostitutes; junkies, thieves, and starvlings. Ergo, he is not descending on them naked.] Further more, we have not identified what led us to these present conditions nor what ill-effects they may have engendered. Have you experienced any hallucinations?

[It is cocaine and something else, something which bends the recognition of reality. He can still feel its after-effects. Poison, perhaps. But how did they ingest it?]

[verypatientwoman]

Regrettably, all I see seems irrevocably real.

[And looking back at the wall, her lips forming a thin line as she takes a moment to compose herself.] Please, Mister Holmes. Put your clothes back on and leave.

[She doesn't want you to go anywhere naked. Get dressed already. Don't worry, she won't look.]

[sherly_no_mates]

[Is that how it's to be then? Satisfied with no answes and the only solution to ignore it? How simple. How narrow-minded. But fine. He'll dress, with his back to Mary, in utter silent graceful dignity: underclothes, trousers, shirt, braces, waistcoat, jacket. He refuses to give mind to an audience regarding his nakedness. Certainly he isn't the first naked man she's seen.

There's Mycroft, for instance.]

Your husband is a doctor. An examination to check that there are no lingering effects of the drug in your system: I'm sure he'll oblige.

[Concentration doted upon buttoning his cuffs. Cold. Detached. It is only a suggestion. No need to discuss what she will tell Watson, if anything, regarding this matter; women thrive on secrecy. Its inherent to their natures.]

[verypatientwoman]

[Holmes is indeed not the first naked man she's seen. Aside from the fact that she is, you know, a married woman, men have a tendency to lose their clothing around her. She doesn't appreciate it, but she is possibly slowly getting used to it.]

[And she'll just be staring at the wall while Holmes gets dressed, clutching the sheets in front of her chest and waiting. When Holmes speaks, she inclines her head without looking at him.]

Of course.

[She will do no such thing. But anything that'll make you leave faster.]

[sherly_no_mates]

[No, no intention of doing that at all; he can see that clearly enough. A very stubborn woman, Mrs Watson. Indeed, a perfect specimen of her gender.]

It would be a shame to have found you have taken a poor turning when much could be done to avoid it.

[Pay no attention to him at all. He's only dispensing wise advice.]

Watson has the requisite knowledge and experience for contextualising such things. A very useful chap, indeed.