ooc.
I’M IN SHOCK! LOOK, I’VE GOT A BLANKET!
ic.
The amazing thing about playing the violin, Sherlock found, was that it did several things for her; she was able to lose herself in it, for once her mind would calm down and all of the problems, all of those little puzzles that she used to distract herself, would cease to be. The music could also put things into perspective, shuffle thoughts into the right order and allow her to spot the things that she had blatantly missed. With each shift of the bow Sherlock lost herself; she forgot where she was, why she was there sitting on that log playing to begin with, and lost the sense of time. Only the music was important, making sure that each haunting note was played perfectly.
It was the faint snapping of branches that broke the small female out of her reverie, that made her stop playing for a few seconds as she opened her eyes and glanced left, towards the direction the noise had come from. There was no mistaking those muffled sounds of Dahmer’s feet; it didn’t matter that they had been separated for more than a month; it would take much longer than that to make Sherlock forget the sound of her partner’s movements. It had been ingrained into them during their training; yes, while they were supposed to be silent, it was always hard to keep oneself completely silent so it was imperative that you memorized the difference between friends and foes. With a small smirk of the lips, Sherlock closed her eyes and picked up at the note she had left off as if she hadn't stopped playing.
By the time Dahmer finally emerged, Sherlock was getting to the end of her song; in her typical fashion, she continued to play until the very last note, long after Dahmer’s movements had stopped. Simultaneously opening her eyes and moving both violin and bow to her lap, Sherlock got her first good look at Dahmer in over a month. If it was possible, Dahmer had gotten even larger; he was too far away to check, but Sherlock figured that it had to do with building a den and moving different materials (he always did love to work with his hands, she recalled). His face, however, was closed off which left the female confused for a second. It was like he was guarding himself from something and for once Sherlock was at a loss; this had never happened before and it was a bit irritating. Other than the physical changes she could see, it was like Dahmer was a closed book.
Pale green-blue eyes met with cool blues, and there, finally something she could read. Oh the eyes, the eyes were always so expressive when you knew what to look for. Paired with the lack of movement towards her and the overall lack of acknowledgement (besides the careful eye contact), it was easy to spot the anger that shimmered behind the carefully guarded features. With a small tilt of her head, she finally broke the silence that had settled over them after the last note had been played, You’re angry.
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