[ Peter can't help the way his eyes widen in alarm again and he quickly looks around for Happy-hoping that he'll somehow turn up earlier than expected and play the role of the intimidating bodyguard but no. He swallows and mentally curses his luck. He knew this was going to come back to bite him the ass because what doesn't? ]
I-I don't uh... know what you're talking about?
[ He tries, voice shaking horribly and probably, if the expression on his face wasn't enough, giving away that he does actually know what Sherlock is talking about. ]
I-I'm just here for uh Stark Internship stuff. Mmhm. [ He nods as if it would help sell the lie at all. ]
[ He stares at the boy for all of five seconds. Then, he rolls his eyes. ]
Fine, I'll play nice if you stop playing stupid. It's physically painful to watch.
[ Sherlock didn't dismantle Moriarty's network by being horrible indiscreet - he just generally chooses not to care. Though he's got no doubt that the people around them are precisely as unobservant as most tend to be, he keeps his voice down. They'll think nothing of it, too preoccupied with their own, boring lives. ]
I understand that you were quite busy yesterday; so was I, incidentally - [ So all that time, hanging on the wall like a pinned insect? Annoying, Peter. Really, really annoying. ] - but happily, I had a quiet evening. Lots of time to look things up, do a bit of research. Want to know what I've found so far?
[ Peter watches the man carefully, biting lightly at his bottom lip and feeling his heartbeat a little faster than it typically does. After a few seconds he lets out a sigh and rubs at his face, muttering harshly under his breath through gritted teeth; ]
I cannot believe this is happening...
[ He glances takes a in a deep breath and sits up a little straighter-the only way he can really get out of this would be to call Happy or Mr Stark directly but even then it probably wouldn't do him much good for very long. ]
Yeah, okay. [ He breathes, grabbing his milk again and taking another drink-this time not choking on it. ] Fine, you win.
But can we not do this here? The hotel room's just three floors up.
[ He smiles, the expression pretty genuine. He really is just curious; it's that scientific drive for precise data, for understanding the way things function. He's mostly uncaring about Peter's obvious discomfort because some types of knowledge come before anything else, particularly when pertaining to a teenager with a freakish metabolism, capable of climbing buildings.
Also, he did glue Sherlock to a bloody wall whilst quipping at him. ]
Hm.
[ A short pause. ]
Would prefer some place a little more public. Who'll aid me, otherwise, if I suddenly start sticking to things again? [ Eye roll. Naturally, John just SAT there and ate his take-away. Naturally.] Hyde Park, rather. You may choose the time of day.
[ If he wants to go now, that's fine - Sherlock's between cases and it's really all the same to him. But if the boy wants to avoid a crowd, going later might be preferable. ]
[ OOC: If Peter wants to stay at the hotel, please feel free to have him stick to it - if so, Sherlock will go for a compromise. He just wants things his own way if he can get away with it. ;) ]
[ Peter's quick to shake his head at that idea. If he's out in public he won't be able to use his powers if he needs to-sure he can pick the time of day and make sure to have his webshooters but he it significantly increases the chance of exposure. Not to mention, he has a kind of itinerary thing he's supposed to be following. ]
No can do, later I have to be at the Stark Gala thing and tomorrow I'm going to a science conference thing-which is kinda the whole reason I'm in London to begin with.
[ He's not used to telling adults 'no', or at least, not as Peter Parker and that's probably apparent by his posture, and his tone of voice but he's absolutely not going out in public to discuss his powers-knowing his luck someone he doesn't want knowing his secret would over here and he has to protect Aunt May, and Ned. ]
You're the one that was being creepy yesterday and set off my spideysense so if you wanna talk, fine. but it's the hotel or I call Mr Stark right now.
[ A long suffering sigh. Then, he pushes the chair back and gets up. ]
If you insist. [ He plucks his phone from his pocket. Shoots off a quick text without actually looking at the screen, gaze still fixed on Peter, though there's a blank quality to it, like he's seeing through him more than anything else. One second, two - then, he blinks. Re-focuses with a frown. ] Creepy. What do you mean, creepy?
[ He stands back slightly, nodding towards the exit. After you, says the gesture. Under different, more dire circumstances, he would have stuck to his demands, except it really doesn't matter, so long as he gets to asks questions, do some new observations. If he could, he would definitely lock that kid up in a lab and have a field day but as far as compromises go, supposedly things could be worse. Peter's cooperating, after all. Even if he's being unduly dramatic about it. Really. Creepy? ]
[ Peter huffs, grabbing his milk and a few bagels off his plate as he stands up to lead the way up to the hotel room. He wraps the bagels up in a napkin before stuffing them in his jacket pocket and then grabs the fruit cup. Just because he's agreed to this doesn't mean he's going to forgo breakfast all together-and the way his powers work means he can't skip out on meals anyways. ]
[ He takes a second to flag Ned down to tell him he's going back up to the room for a bit and he'll be back down when he can, that taken care of he lets out another sigh that sound a little more like a huff as he heads towards the hotel room, his mind trying to supply different versions of how this conversation's going to go. ]
[ Room 324 is about the condition anyone would expect it to be in with two teenage boy's stay in it-that is to say there's clothes strung out on the unmade beds, there's incomplete game of battleship sitting on one of the night stands along with several cans of energy drinks, and two laptops out in the open-one of them looks to be held together with duct tape and the other is hooked into the TV where the title screen for Alien Covenant is still showing on the tv. ]
Sorry about the... uh... wasn't really expecting company.
[ He says a little pointedly but not with any real malice as he sets his breakfast on the desk and flops into the chair. ]
[ Looking at someone 'weird' doesn't mean much to him so he lets it go.
Though no one really bats an eye at a teenage boy, stuffing his pockets with food, Sherlock files the observation away, remembering their first text exchange. Metabolism, he thinks, checks out. He follows Peter quietly, thinking their last conversation over and picking out details, matching things up (Stark Gala - Stark, that name again, yielded quite a number of google results - science conference, matches available data so far concerning the kid's academic (intellectual) prowess and interest; but more so, Peter's carefulness, an ever-present undercurrent in their conversations; can't be found out, can't be revealed - my aunt, he wrote - too little family, particularly when family matters to you, when you're vulnerable without them; when there are people who'd hurt them to hurt you). He's forming a picture of Peter and it's intriguing. Spider-person, whatever that means (data pending). Painfully intelligent, burdened by sentiment, though he's young, he's got time to wise up.
Upon stepping into his hotel room and looking around with a sniff of distaste - suddenly and forcibly reminded why he hated sharing sleeping quarters with people back in public school - he shrugs at Peter's comment and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. ]
I looked over your nylon-mixture earlier this morning. [ As in, 3am, sleep's terribly overrated. ] It's an exciting invention in itself, certainly, very complex. Advanced. [ His eyes narrow just a fraction. ] But that's just you, isn't it. Your intellect, less than ordinary, not unheard of. Crawling on walls, however, now that's interesting. Tell me how - seeing as you probably won't allow me to figure it out for myself.
[ Meaning, putting your limbs under a microscope isn't an option, he knows Peter. It's a crying shame, though. ]
Yeah, I've been working on all kinds of different versions-the version I gave you was the third but I'm still trying to make it stronger because it still can't hold an elevator for long and I ended up falling down the shaft at the Washington Monument and let me tell you-those bruises sucked.
[ And he's rambling again, his voice not quite shaky but a shade higher than normal. It gives away just how nervous he is every time and he's really got to get that under control. ]
I'm not really sure how the sticking thing works-not one hundred percent but uh... it's kinda a long story. [ As is any story as told by Peter Parker, really. ] But I went on a field trip to see some demonstration thing and uh got bit by a spider-a radio active spider.
It died like shortly after on account of all the radiation and I thought I was gonna die-I mean I've really been healthy-not really-but I was sick for days and everything just hurt and then a couple of day later I didn't need my inhaler or my glasses and I kept sticking to stuff-I also broke the door handle which wasn't fun explaining to my uncle- [ He pauses a moment because he hadn't actually meant to mention Ben. However, he takes a breath and just continues. ] but he kinda thought it was funny.
But anyways, it did something weird to my DNA because now I can control the sticking and I have like super strength-which is great cause my exgirlfriend's dad totally dropped a building on me-and super hearing, and super healing and my senses are like crazy strong.
[... and suddenly, there's a veritable flood of information. Sherlock just listens, growing steadfastly more fascinated. It sounds crazy, like a drug-induced fantasy, but the kid's clearly as sober as they come. Bitten by a radioactive spider? Also, really, if people drop houses on you when you date their daughters, he's really quite happy to never, ever indulge. One more reason, out of many. He categorises super strength as a new discovery, which immediately raises a whole new set of questions. Muscle mass? Density? Super hearing, super healing, enhanced sensory functions...
When Peter stops talking, Sherlock's mostly just staring at him. He'd really like proof for just half of those claims but seeing as the boy's clearly not all that interested in playing the part of lab rat (and Sherlock's less than interested in getting glued to a wall again anytime in the foreseeable future), he'll settle for the one that interests him the most. ]
This DNA... variation. [ Hard to figure out what to call it. ] It speeds up cellular regeneration but to what extent? How fast do you heal?
[ In other words - does it make him practically invincible? Even if not, imagine the possibilities... He thinks about Mycroft, about how interested the British government - or indeed, any government - would be in that kind of genetic extravaganza. Baskerville, playing with luminescent rabbits and psychosis-inducing gasses? Please. Baby stuff, in comparison. ]
[ Peter just offers the most teenage response he can and shrugs before pulling a bagel out of his pocket and tearing a piece away. ]
It kinda depends. [ He admits, fidgeting in his seat a little. ] Like... if every things is working right-bruises go away within a few hours. Stuff like broken bones take a little longer but still less than a day-usually. It depends on how bad the break is-how much I've eaten and how much I've slept.
I don't sleep a whole lot-like three-four hours most nights-which doesn't have anything to do with uh-anyways-but if I'm verging on like say I don't manage to catch up on sleep at all-cause every few days I kinda cash for a super long time-but say I don't manage to do that then things get kinda... uh... weird?
My healing doesn't work as well and senses-fluctuate between like being normal and completely overloaded. And my Spideysense-uh... it's kinda like a sixth sense that tells when I'm in any kinda of danger-doesn't work at all.
[ Nod, nod. Though the boy's clearly rambling along - it's really quite fascinating, how many words one can cram into one sentence when sufficiently diligent - he's also providing a fairly decent amount of answers. Healing as well as enhanced senses: efficient but still gradual, can be inversely effected by robbing him of basic sustenance. A tune-up. Not too far-fetched, really, if for a moment, we forget about the radioactive spider because what the f... is that about? Sherlock glances at the bagel. Dismisses it as unimportant because, well, food. ]
So, you don't know how, precisely, you manage to stick to things. You can control it now, evidently, but couldn't in the beginning - [ Data: CNS, biological, obviously, another genetic variation ] - so it's a physical attribute, somehow, something in tune with your central nervous system. This spider didn't just optimize you - it transformed you. [ A short laugh. Amazing, really. ] Good thing it's dead or my brother would be sweeping around the world with a glass jar and a magnifier. [ Pause. Wait. ] Well, his people would. Actually, it would probably be me. You are quite certain it's dead, right?
Oh yeah, it's dead. [ Peter nods before eating another piece of bagel-more picking at though than anything else as bagels really aren't his favorite. He likes bread but not quite so much. ]
Of course I couldn't control it at first-I had no idea what hell-uh-heck- [ He corrects quickly after a brief glance at the adult as he's unsure how he'll feel about his cursing. ] -was going on. It didn't take me long to figure it out-but suddenly waking up with superpowers really isn't that uh... fun? Especially since I couldn't control my senses at all. Everything was waaay too bright and I could hear everything.
right now, I can hear your heart beat, a slight buzzing from the tv, Ned's laptop and a fly that's out in the hall-which is really annoying, btdubs.
but when my hearing's at uh... dialed to eleven-as I call it- I can hear all that plus everything going on downstairs and pretty much anything in a five mile radius-it sucks
[ Not that Mr Holmes had asked for all that information on super hearing but oh well. ]
[ Sherlock can sympathise to some extent; while he doesn't have super-senses, exactly, he certainly has a super-active brain which is more or less impossible to shut off. Imagining that doubled, tripled, quadrupled - whatever - is dizzying in and by itself. Anything else, asks the kid with the curious, curious biological set-up and yes, in fact, there is one thing he'd like to know and quickly now: ]
You're above averagely intelligent. A great deal, too. Why do you keep mixing up the English language with things like t-h-x - [ Yes, he's spelling out the letters here. ] - or - what was it now, b-t-...dubs? Will you grow out of it? Must I wait for you to do so?
[ Yes, he doesn't much care about the swearing, Peter, but this particular affliction of yours is making his ears bleed. ]
[ He awkwardly accepts the compliment, watch Sherlock carefully and making a face as he nitpicks at how Peter chooses to talk and text because 'thnx' is definitely something he texts not says out loud. ]
Wait. Lemme get this straight-you find out I'm basically part spider and when I give you the go ahead to ask questions you wanna know why I talk the way I do?
[ He blinks incredulously for a moment just shrugging. ]
Uh.. I guess it's 'cause that's how most people my age talk now? We're all pretty much products of the internet and memes speficially so we kinda have our own language for it-I mean we can't speak all in memes but-actually wait, we can.
[ It's fine, he says, whilst Sherlock tries to remember what a meme is (mee-m? mee-mee??), realising much to his own relief that he's deleted this as well, assuming he's ever known about it in the first place. God, some people truly fill their heads with nonsense. He's not about to do the same so he leaves the whole meme-question for never and straightens slightly, giving Peter a quick look-over. ]
Gaining further knowledge - and I do mean, knowledge, as in hard facts as opposed to guesswork - would entail locking you up under optimized laboratory conditions. Do let me know if you change your mind on that one.
[ Spoken with a slight quirk of his lips. Though in all honesty, if this had been Sherlock's body, undergoing genetic change due to a radioactive spider-bite, he'd bloody well lock himself up, just to get his answers. He digs into one pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag. Throws it at Peter, keeping an eye on those reflexes. ]
[ Peter responds, in the process of shoving a bite of bagel in his mouth-he at least takes the time to finish chewing and swallowing before opening his mouth again. ]
I mean, I know it's summer vacation and all but-no. not happening. I got stuff I gotta do and I'm not giving up a minute of spending time with Mr Stark.
So, unless you wanna pay for me to stay longer, my plane ticket back to JFK and uber back to Queens-I'm gonna be headed back home in like three days.
[ He frowns at the request but even still, he aims his wrist briefly before firing off a web to grab the bag with. ]
Yeah, I guess that's fair. But tell me what you find 'cause I'm kinda curious.
[ He's not overly surprised by the initial refusal, having expected nothing else. But then, the boy starts going on about summer holidays and unless you wanna pay and well, Sherlock sees an opportunity that he really can't pass up. Surely, John won't mind. Surely. And if he does, he'll get over it soon enough; with regards to experiments, he's seen worse. And been worse, too. ]
Hold on. [ He checks his phone quickly. One new message from Lestrade, not a serial killer but curious enough, locked room, maybe a 7. Possibly more. He looks back at Peter, managing a friendly smile by way of some weird higher power. Ah well. He likes Peter which is certainly different. Liking a new person. It probably helps that the kid isn't quite human. ] It's fine, you can stay in our flat. Will make sure you get back to America in one piece, tickets, whatever. Give me two weeks and I'll give you answers, in return.
[ He shoots off a text for Lestrade. Pockets his phone again and turns towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at Peter. ]
221B, Baker Street. Text me if we aren't home.
[ And with that, he's going to leave you behind, Peter, striding out of the room and flipping up his coat. Take it or leave it, so to speak. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I-I don't uh... know what you're talking about?
[ He tries, voice shaking horribly and probably, if the expression on his face wasn't enough, giving away that he does actually know what Sherlock is talking about. ]
I-I'm just here for uh Stark Internship stuff. Mmhm. [ He nods as if it would help sell the lie at all. ]
no subject
Fine, I'll play nice if you stop playing stupid. It's physically painful to watch.
[ Sherlock didn't dismantle Moriarty's network by being horrible indiscreet - he just generally chooses not to care. Though he's got no doubt that the people around them are precisely as unobservant as most tend to be, he keeps his voice down. They'll think nothing of it, too preoccupied with their own, boring lives. ]
I understand that you were quite busy yesterday; so was I, incidentally - [ So all that time, hanging on the wall like a pinned insect? Annoying, Peter. Really, really annoying. ] - but happily, I had a quiet evening. Lots of time to look things up, do a bit of research. Want to know what I've found so far?
no subject
I cannot believe this is happening...
[ He glances takes a in a deep breath and sits up a little straighter-the only way he can really get out of this would be to call Happy or Mr Stark directly but even then it probably wouldn't do him much good for very long. ]
Yeah, okay. [ He breathes, grabbing his milk again and taking another drink-this time not choking on it. ] Fine, you win.
But can we not do this here? The hotel room's just three floors up.
no subject
Also, he did glue Sherlock to a bloody wall whilst quipping at him. ]
Hm.
[ A short pause. ]
Would prefer some place a little more public. Who'll aid me, otherwise, if I suddenly start sticking to things again? [ Eye roll. Naturally, John just SAT there and ate his take-away. Naturally.] Hyde Park, rather. You may choose the time of day.
[ If he wants to go now, that's fine - Sherlock's between cases and it's really all the same to him. But if the boy wants to avoid a crowd, going later might be preferable. ]
[ OOC: If Peter wants to stay at the hotel, please feel free to have him stick to it - if so, Sherlock will go for a compromise. He just wants things his own way if he can get away with it. ;) ]
no subject
No can do, later I have to be at the Stark Gala thing and tomorrow I'm going to a science conference thing-which is kinda the whole reason I'm in London to begin with.
[ He's not used to telling adults 'no', or at least, not as Peter Parker and that's probably apparent by his posture, and his tone of voice but he's absolutely not going out in public to discuss his powers-knowing his luck someone he doesn't want knowing his secret would over here and he has to protect Aunt May, and Ned. ]
You're the one that was being creepy yesterday and set off my spideysense so if you wanna talk, fine. but it's the hotel or I call Mr Stark right now.
no subject
If you insist. [ He plucks his phone from his pocket. Shoots off a quick text without actually looking at the screen, gaze still fixed on Peter, though there's a blank quality to it, like he's seeing through him more than anything else. One second, two - then, he blinks. Re-focuses with a frown. ] Creepy. What do you mean, creepy?
[ He stands back slightly, nodding towards the exit. After you, says the gesture. Under different, more dire circumstances, he would have stuck to his demands, except it really doesn't matter, so long as he gets to asks questions, do some new observations. If he could, he would definitely lock that kid up in a lab and have a field day but as far as compromises go, supposedly things could be worse. Peter's cooperating, after all. Even if he's being unduly dramatic about it. Really. Creepy? ]
no subject
[ Peter huffs, grabbing his milk and a few bagels off his plate as he stands up to lead the way up to the hotel room. He wraps the bagels up in a napkin before stuffing them in his jacket pocket and then grabs the fruit cup. Just because he's agreed to this doesn't mean he's going to forgo breakfast all together-and the way his powers work means he can't skip out on meals anyways. ]
[ He takes a second to flag Ned down to tell him he's going back up to the room for a bit and he'll be back down when he can, that taken care of he lets out another sigh that sound a little more like a huff as he heads towards the hotel room, his mind trying to supply different versions of how this conversation's going to go. ]
[ Room 324 is about the condition anyone would expect it to be in with two teenage boy's stay in it-that is to say there's clothes strung out on the unmade beds, there's incomplete game of battleship sitting on one of the night stands along with several cans of energy drinks, and two laptops out in the open-one of them looks to be held together with duct tape and the other is hooked into the TV where the title screen for Alien Covenant is still showing on the tv. ]
Sorry about the... uh... wasn't really expecting company.
[ He says a little pointedly but not with any real malice as he sets his breakfast on the desk and flops into the chair. ]
no subject
Though no one really bats an eye at a teenage boy, stuffing his pockets with food, Sherlock files the observation away, remembering their first text exchange. Metabolism, he thinks, checks out. He follows Peter quietly, thinking their last conversation over and picking out details, matching things up (Stark Gala - Stark, that name again, yielded quite a number of google results - science conference, matches available data so far concerning the kid's academic (intellectual) prowess and interest; but more so, Peter's carefulness, an ever-present undercurrent in their conversations; can't be found out, can't be revealed - my aunt, he wrote - too little family, particularly when family matters to you, when you're vulnerable without them; when there are people who'd hurt them to hurt you). He's forming a picture of Peter and it's intriguing. Spider-person, whatever that means (data pending). Painfully intelligent, burdened by sentiment, though he's young, he's got time to wise up.
Upon stepping into his hotel room and looking around with a sniff of distaste - suddenly and forcibly reminded why he hated sharing sleeping quarters with people back in public school - he shrugs at Peter's comment and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. ]
I looked over your nylon-mixture earlier this morning. [ As in, 3am, sleep's terribly overrated. ] It's an exciting invention in itself, certainly, very complex. Advanced. [ His eyes narrow just a fraction. ] But that's just you, isn't it. Your intellect, less than ordinary, not unheard of. Crawling on walls, however, now that's interesting. Tell me how - seeing as you probably won't allow me to figure it out for myself.
[ Meaning, putting your limbs under a microscope isn't an option, he knows Peter. It's a crying shame, though. ]
no subject
[ And he's rambling again, his voice not quite shaky but a shade higher than normal. It gives away just how nervous he is every time and he's really got to get that under control. ]
I'm not really sure how the sticking thing works-not one hundred percent but uh... it's kinda a long story. [ As is any story as told by Peter Parker, really. ] But I went on a field trip to see some demonstration thing and uh got bit by a spider-a radio active spider.
It died like shortly after on account of all the radiation and I thought I was gonna die-I mean I've really been healthy-not really-but I was sick for days and everything just hurt and then a couple of day later I didn't need my inhaler or my glasses and I kept sticking to stuff-I also broke the door handle which wasn't fun explaining to my uncle- [ He pauses a moment because he hadn't actually meant to mention Ben. However, he takes a breath and just continues. ] but he kinda thought it was funny.
But anyways, it did something weird to my DNA because now I can control the sticking and I have like super strength-which is great cause my exgirlfriend's dad totally dropped a building on me-and super hearing, and super healing and my senses are like crazy strong.
no subject
When Peter stops talking, Sherlock's mostly just staring at him. He'd really like proof for just half of those claims but seeing as the boy's clearly not all that interested in playing the part of lab rat (and Sherlock's less than interested in getting glued to a wall again anytime in the foreseeable future), he'll settle for the one that interests him the most. ]
This DNA... variation. [ Hard to figure out what to call it. ] It speeds up cellular regeneration but to what extent? How fast do you heal?
[ In other words - does it make him practically invincible? Even if not, imagine the possibilities... He thinks about Mycroft, about how interested the British government - or indeed, any government - would be in that kind of genetic extravaganza. Baskerville, playing with luminescent rabbits and psychosis-inducing gasses? Please. Baby stuff, in comparison. ]
no subject
It kinda depends. [ He admits, fidgeting in his seat a little. ] Like... if every things is working right-bruises go away within a few hours. Stuff like broken bones take a little longer but still less than a day-usually. It depends on how bad the break is-how much I've eaten and how much I've slept.
I don't sleep a whole lot-like three-four hours most nights-which doesn't have anything to do with uh-anyways-but if I'm verging on like say I don't manage to catch up on sleep at all-cause every few days I kinda cash for a super long time-but say I don't manage to do that then things get kinda... uh... weird?
My healing doesn't work as well and senses-fluctuate between like being normal and completely overloaded. And my Spideysense-uh... it's kinda like a sixth sense that tells when I'm in any kinda of danger-doesn't work at all.
[ He takes a bite of bagel. ]
no subject
So, you don't know how, precisely, you manage to stick to things. You can control it now, evidently, but couldn't in the beginning - [ Data: CNS, biological, obviously, another genetic variation ] - so it's a physical attribute, somehow, something in tune with your central nervous system. This spider didn't just optimize you - it transformed you. [ A short laugh. Amazing, really. ] Good thing it's dead or my brother would be sweeping around the world with a glass jar and a magnifier. [ Pause. Wait. ] Well, his people would. Actually, it would probably be me. You are quite certain it's dead, right?
no subject
Of course I couldn't control it at first-I had no idea what hell-uh-heck- [ He corrects quickly after a brief glance at the adult as he's unsure how he'll feel about his cursing. ] -was going on. It didn't take me long to figure it out-but suddenly waking up with superpowers really isn't that uh... fun? Especially since I couldn't control my senses at all. Everything was waaay too bright and I could hear everything.
right now, I can hear your heart beat, a slight buzzing from the tv, Ned's laptop and a fly that's out in the hall-which is really annoying, btdubs.
but when my hearing's at uh... dialed to eleven-as I call it- I can hear all that plus everything going on downstairs and pretty much anything in a five mile radius-it sucks
[ Not that Mr Holmes had asked for all that information on super hearing but oh well. ]
Anything else you want to know?
no subject
You're above averagely intelligent. A great deal, too. Why do you keep mixing up the English language with things like t-h-x - [ Yes, he's spelling out the letters here. ] - or - what was it now, b-t-...dubs? Will you grow out of it? Must I wait for you to do so?
[ Yes, he doesn't much care about the swearing, Peter, but this particular affliction of yours is making his ears bleed. ]
no subject
[ He awkwardly accepts the compliment, watch Sherlock carefully and making a face as he nitpicks at how Peter chooses to talk and text because 'thnx' is definitely something he texts not says out loud. ]
Wait. Lemme get this straight-you find out I'm basically part spider and when I give you the go ahead to ask questions you wanna know why I talk the way I do?
[ He blinks incredulously for a moment just shrugging. ]
Uh.. I guess it's 'cause that's how most people my age talk now? We're all pretty much products of the internet and memes speficially so we kinda have our own language for it-I mean we can't speak all in memes but-actually wait, we can.
but it's fine. Everything is fine.
[ he shrugs. ]
no subject
Gaining further knowledge - and I do mean, knowledge, as in hard facts as opposed to guesswork - would entail locking you up under optimized laboratory conditions. Do let me know if you change your mind on that one.
[ Spoken with a slight quirk of his lips. Though in all honesty, if this had been Sherlock's body, undergoing genetic change due to a radioactive spider-bite, he'd bloody well lock himself up, just to get his answers. He digs into one pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag. Throws it at Peter, keeping an eye on those reflexes. ]
Last one, then. A hair sample for the road?
no subject
[ Peter responds, in the process of shoving a bite of bagel in his mouth-he at least takes the time to finish chewing and swallowing before opening his mouth again. ]
I mean, I know it's summer vacation and all but-no. not happening. I got stuff I gotta do and I'm not giving up a minute of spending time with Mr Stark.
So, unless you wanna pay for me to stay longer, my plane ticket back to JFK and uber back to Queens-I'm gonna be headed back home in like three days.
[ He frowns at the request but even still, he aims his wrist briefly before firing off a web to grab the bag with. ]
Yeah, I guess that's fair. But tell me what you find 'cause I'm kinda curious.
no subject
Hold on. [ He checks his phone quickly. One new message from Lestrade, not a serial killer but curious enough, locked room, maybe a 7. Possibly more. He looks back at Peter, managing a friendly smile by way of some weird higher power. Ah well. He likes Peter which is certainly different. Liking a new person. It probably helps that the kid isn't quite human. ] It's fine, you can stay in our flat. Will make sure you get back to America in one piece, tickets, whatever. Give me two weeks and I'll give you answers, in return.
[ He shoots off a text for Lestrade. Pockets his phone again and turns towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at Peter. ]
221B, Baker Street. Text me if we aren't home.
[ And with that, he's going to leave you behind, Peter, striding out of the room and flipping up his coat. Take it or leave it, so to speak. ]