IC Contact

[unpuzzling]

Hopefully, this will be important.

[leave all means of private IC contact here. as a warning, Sherlock has stupid texting habits like a teenage girl. be prepared for really ridiculous acronyms.]

Comments

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[unpuzzling]

You're interested in her. Like watching a piece of yourself separate and take life, though I believe you'll find yourself ... disappointed.

[After all, this conversation could go in a much different way, but Sherlock finds himself wanting to avoid that. Especially that. He doesn't want to discuss the Irene Adler that matters to him.]

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[considered]

A more accurate metaphor would be that it is like watching my finest artwork gain a life of its own. Her own, I suppose.

[ she's curious about his own interest. Here at least, an Irene free of a Moriarty. Not one and the same; though the woman sounds different than how Jamie had painted her.

(Her Irene was half herself; for this woman to be the same, she would need a half of Jamie Moriarty.) ]

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[unpuzzling]

She is not your work of art.

[That seems important to dictate right away. And there lies Sherlock's interest in the matter: remarkably nonexistent. He only finds himself curious about her in whether or not she poses a threat.]

As I said, I expect you'll find yourself disappointed.

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[considered]

Oh Sherlock.

[ she gives him a look that is nearly sympathetic. ]

If Henry James was to meet Isabel Archer at a coffee place in London he would feel the same as I do. Isabel Archer would have been - her own creation but to Henry James a part of her would have always been his masterpiece. I have been many people in all my years but I do admit, I have grown attached to Irene Adler. You did too.

[ a fact and not a question. ]

You cannot fault me for such sentiments. She may not be as I painted her to be but she is still Irene. The comparison is interesting if only for comparison's sake. She names herself The Woman. Perhaps she was that, to me.

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[unpuzzling]

I grew fond of the fiction known as Irene Adler in our world. That fiction was not a woman who needed to communicate anonymously with her initials on display for all as if they provide a certain level of potential surprise.

[Simply put: she is nothing like the fiction he was in love with. Sherlock is a controlled man, a man who can dictate what is and isn't significant to him. Those dictations may not always be true, but he can enforce it until it becomes that way.

That attempt is important to him.]

And "The Woman." To Sherlock, perhaps, but not to you. You were fond of that role because of its other goals, but I would not say it was the role itself that you crafted, piece of ... art or not. [That, too, is a bit of denial, of dictating the way he wants things to be.]

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[considered]

You are tragically wrong.

[ soft and perhaps genuine. Some of her lies are clear to Sherlock by now, others less so. She cares nothing for the areas of black and white, lie and truth. Jamie had always preferred different shades rather than simple ones. ]

Every artist is intimately fond of heir work. It is in the nature of the process. And art has always been a product, a construct of a mind but art always features inside it at least one level of truth. Irene had understood some things that I do not.

[ which is an odd thing. they are one and the same, so much of Irene is in Jamie and some of Jamie was in Irene but this, this ]

Perhaps she had answers to questions you and I now struggle with.

[ humans and connections. Irene knew them well, had believed in both but even she couldn't have convinced Jamie. ]

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[unpuzzling]

[There is a moment where she is going on where he feels the urge to interrupt her, in part because he is growing increasingly frustrated. What level of ease and control over himself that he has fades as he listens to her speak, very frustrated with the mere suggestion that this Irene might have answers that she or he doesn't have.

Irene was a fiction, filled with optimism. But the person playing that role did not have that optimism. She was never Irene.]

You can say a character believes in something you yourself does not believe, but that does not mean there are answers within that statement. [It's stated emphatically and in a voice that is rushed and unsteady.] You speak of art as if it's intended to come to life, as if it takes a form of its own, living and breathing. It does not. [He's frustrated and almost overly aggravated in his phrasing.]

I don't want to philosophically discuss art with you, Moriarty. We know we will both be tracking this Irene because of her significance to the other Holmes, but she is not, and will never be, some figment of our imaginations.

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[considered]

And in that you are, once again, wrong.

[ She looks well, much like he looks. Like one who heard something distasteful and wants to correct it. ]

Whatever she is to him, it makes little difference to me.

[ it is what she may yet be to her that interests her.]

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[unpuzzling]

What is a reality to you isn't a reality to those who come to interact with a piece of art, or have you disregarded the mere accomplishments of Harold Bloom?

[As in, the art itself stands independent of its maker, whether she wishes for that or not.]

She should have little significance to both of us. The other Moriarty matters because of his connection to crime and death.