Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
3potionproblem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sortinghat_logs2013-02-24 08:32 pm
3potionproblem) wrote in sortinghat_logs2013-02-24 08:32 pm
Entry tags:
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WHO: Sherlock Holmes & Tony Stark
TONE: Bros
RATING: PG
WHEN: Around now
WHERE: Ravenclaw 6th year boy's dorm
WHAT: Sherlock's still writing sad music. Tony's got a lot of good going for him.
STATUS: WIP
Sometimes Sherlock did not like words. They were ambiguous, they often carried more than one possible meaning and inference could always be made on honesty. It was for that reason that he preferred music when words would not do. Sometimes when he was angry he just made noise on the violin, screeching out nonsense in place of the static of his rage. When he was happy, there were many songs he knew that would either garner him praise or simply transmit that feeling of approachability and merriment. Though he knew sad songs, none of them felt quite right for this particular wordlessness. Some were sad with an underlying anger, some were sad with despair writing in between the measures. That wasn't what this was. So there was little else to do but make the sounds himself until they made sense and were expressed and existed outside himself as something tangible and real.
He spent most of his free time on it, only ceasing when demanded to by other students. He really didn't care that he was annoying them; he had more important things to do.
TONE: Bros
RATING: PG
WHEN: Around now
WHERE: Ravenclaw 6th year boy's dorm
WHAT: Sherlock's still writing sad music. Tony's got a lot of good going for him.
STATUS: WIP
Sometimes Sherlock did not like words. They were ambiguous, they often carried more than one possible meaning and inference could always be made on honesty. It was for that reason that he preferred music when words would not do. Sometimes when he was angry he just made noise on the violin, screeching out nonsense in place of the static of his rage. When he was happy, there were many songs he knew that would either garner him praise or simply transmit that feeling of approachability and merriment. Though he knew sad songs, none of them felt quite right for this particular wordlessness. Some were sad with an underlying anger, some were sad with despair writing in between the measures. That wasn't what this was. So there was little else to do but make the sounds himself until they made sense and were expressed and existed outside himself as something tangible and real.
He spent most of his free time on it, only ceasing when demanded to by other students. He really didn't care that he was annoying them; he had more important things to do.