ironmonger | (no subject)

"Tony is frankly incapable of putting on that sort of show. He would not have done it if he hadn't wanted to. Nevertheless, the circumstances were not entirely innocent. I am happy to observe that this is no longer the case. He really does love you. As such," he shrugs, "you may have noticed I am no longer troubling you over it."

"I did pick up on that at around the time you showed up with a gun you didn't intend to shoot me with," Obadiah agrees.

"Quite. I trust you enjoyed yourself with it?"

Oh lord, he still doesn't know.

"Immensely," he says, eyes darkening a little with the memory. "I'm glad Tony requested it."

"So is he. So am I, for that matter."

There's something about the way Tony curled up with his head in Sherlock's lap and sniffled a little and didn't say anything for hours, just smiled.

And he has to admit he also gets something out of watching Obadiah fail to put the pieces together. He will eventually, of course. And Sherlock will absolutely refrain from gloating, or holding it over him, or any similar activity.

Will such restraint on Sherlock's part occur before or after pigs fly and hell freezes over?

"Mm. How was he after I left?"

He shrugs.

"Well-fucked and in love," he summarizes.

He laughs.

"Good."

He worked very hard to ensure that that would be the case.

"Oh, yes. Very much to your credit on both counts."

Sherlock knows Obadiah is trying to manipulate Tony's affections. He also knows that the only way Obadiah can do that is to approximate human behaviour well enough to pass, and it will take some degree of sincerity to overcome this Tony's suspicion, so he is content with how matters stand.

Of course he is. Because, if Obadiah's efforts to manipulate end with the satisfaction of all parties involved, where's the harm?

"I aim to please."

"Well. You aim to please Tony," he corrects, which is the least subtle he has been about it yet.

He smiles.

"But that seems to unavoidably involve pleasing you."

"There is a certain unavoidable causal relationship," he admits.

"It works in the other direction, too."

"Oh, does it now?"

Obadiah would be interested to hear more about this!

"Oh, yes. And in just the same way. Although, I am sorry to report, in my case the 'in love' part is probably unattainable."

"We all have to make sacrifices," Obadiah observes.

He's fairly certain he can live without Sherlock's devotion.

"I seem to recall you being quite good about the rest, however."

"You did seem reasonably satisfied with the whole endeavor," Obadiah says. "It clearly suited you."

As did the marks it left.

"You just like the look of me with your handprints around my neck," he says, rather affectionately.

"Why wouldn't I?" Obadiah asks. "You wear them very well."

"I do," he acknowledges.

Obadiah sips his drink.

"Seems a shame to let them disappear."

Sherlock runs his thumb across them. He has a perfect memory for the exact location of every fingerprint, even the ones that have faded almost completely.

"Would you like to go upstairs and give the other Sherlock something to think about?"

Obadiah puts down his drink.

"I believe I would."

—He looks up, past Obadiah—