ironmonger | (no subject)

He pauses for a second to absorb this, then says,

"That's what oxygen deprivation will do for you," and sips his drink.

Sherlock laughs.

"If you like," he says affectionately, shifting to sit like himself again and nestling a little closer as he does it.

He tightens his arm around Sherlock to accommodate the move.

"Or so I hear."

"I suppose you are not well versed in either phenomenon directly."

"No, I've been lucky enough to avoid them so far," he says casually.

"They can both be quite pleasant, but perhaps not to your taste."

"Perhaps not."

Certainly not. Obadiah prefers not to offer himself up to be taken advantage of when he can avoid it. And these days, he can.

He is quiet for a short time—a few seconds.

(He wants to be sure it is true. Not more than an hour or two ago, he was sure it wasn't.

And then he was less sure.

And now that they are on the subject...)

"I love you," he says. Casually, not at all the way Tony says it; with Tony, it always seems as though the affection behind the words overflows his entire being. With Sherlock, there is fondness there but it is not so all-consuming. He is reporting a fact, not acting to express an emotional flood.

(Bizarrely, he is nervous. This is so thoroughly nonsensical that he ignores it, puts it outside of himself, refuses to let it influence him in any way visible or otherwise.)

He raises his eyebrows over another sip of whiskey.

"Really?" he says. "That was quick."

He laughs.

"I would congratulate you if I thought you had done it on purpose," he says comfortably.

(A hint of those nerves he refuses to feel? Surely not.)

"Why would I?" he asks reasonably. "I don't need you to."

The bare minimum he needed from Sherlock was for Sherlock to stop interfering in Obadiah's business with Tony. He got that. He doesn't need this.

"Precisely," he agrees, smiling.

(And he doesn't think Obadiah would have known how to, could have intentionally used what he inadvertently gave away. But he won't insult Obadiah's skill at manipulation by saying only the half of that he can get away with, and he won't damage their already impossible relationship by so much as hinting at the rest.)

It's because of Tony, of course. Must be. Sherlock said as much before - what Tony loves, what makes Tony happy, gains his own affection. Now that he's satisfied himself that Obadiah's presence in Tony's life is a good thing, he loves him.

Obadiah wonders if Sherlock has feelings of his own, or if everything is a reflection of or response to Tony.

"As long as it doesn't bother you," he says.

"Which part?"

He doesn't sound bothered. His earlier anxiety, if it was ever there at all, seems to have vanished.

Obadiah gives him an amused glance.

"Spontaneously deciding you love someone doesn't worry you?" he asks.

"It is much more fun than hating you was," he says cheerfully. "And I reached the conclusion based on perfectly sound evidence, thank you."

Obadiah laughs, shaking his head.

"Just don't let it become a problem," he says.

"I won't."

He doesn't really see how he could. It makes him a little more vulnerable, true, but in this conversation he has already given Obadiah enough information to very neatly take him apart at the seams. After a certain point, more vulnerability is meaningless.

And unlike Tony, who could easily break his heart but never will, and Cal, who does and then mends it again, Obadiah would but can't. Sherlock does not expect anything of him in that direction and therefore cannot suffer the particular anguish that comes of having those expectations betrayed.

What Obadiah meant was, more accurately: don't let it become his problem. Because there are entirely too many ways it could.

He puts that all aside to think about in more detail later, and takes a slow, deliberate swallow of whiskey.

Then he asks,

"So. What should we do to Tony?"

"What a lovely question," he murmurs, considering it. "I admit when I am with him I usually tend to improvise. But then, we have never done anything quite this elaborate."

Thoughtfully: "We ought to blindfold him at some point after your arrival. It makes him a lot of fun to play with. He may have suggested as much to you, in fact. I also seem to recall that he suggested you make him beg for something he does not actually want, although from the look on his face when he said it, I suspect it was less of a suggestion and more of a dare."

Obadiah smirks slowly, remembering.

"His exact words were, 'Good luck with that.'"

Sherlock laughs.

"Oh, Tony," he says with infinite fondness. "Yes, let's, then."

"Should it be something we can give to him or not?" he asks. "I'd mentioned it in the context of something I never intended to do in the first place, but I told him as much and I wouldn't want to be too predictable."

On the other hand, he wouldn't want to give Tony the wrong surprise at the wrong moment, either. He has a clearer sense of Tony's limits now, of course, but Sherlock is the one with more experience in pushing them.

"Yes," he says immediately. "He won't be expecting us to follow through, and if we choose something he is not wholly familiar with, he'll believe it is something we can't give to him until the very moment we do."

Tony is so wonderfully straightforward that way.

"Any suggestions?" he asks, already thinking it over. The problem, of course, is that it is much easier to call to mind things they have tried than things they haven't.

"Maybe. I don't know exactly what he is and isn't familiar with," Obadiah points out.

Sounding he dismisses out of hand. It was only ever meant as a phantom threat to keep Tony on track; he has neither experience with it nor interest in actually doing it.