if_inconvenient | (no subject)

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After a very inconclusive day and a rather more informative conversation with Jarvis, Sherlock is lying in his hotel bed with his fingertips together, staring at the ceiling. It is no longer a conscious imitation of the classic pose; over the years he has made it his own.

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"Yeah," Cal says again.

". . . no offense, but I really hope that doesn't change till after you get back."

That is not something Cal wants to have to deal with, even if that does mean dumping it on Sherlock instead. That much, at least, is Sherlock's job, and should stay that way.

"None taken. So do I."

"He's pretty big on making sure Tony thinks he's the best thing ever, though, I don't see why that would change in the next few days."

Cal knows Sherlock knows that. He doesn't need to say it out loud.

He just - he really didn't like leaving Tony alone with Stane. Knowing something with your brain doesn't always mean the rest of you believes it.

Tell that to Sherlock Holmes.

"Neither do I. I expect things will remain quiet."

"Yeah."

Another puff from the cigarette.

"I told him to go for a walk at midnight, maybe he'll take me up on it."

One can always hope.

He can't help it; he laughs.

Cal exhales and asks,

"Do you think he has any clue about why that would be a bad idea? I couldn't tell from his reaction."

"I expect he does. Stark Industries has produced a few interesting things over the years."

"Oh, yeah?"

Cal is intrigued by this.

"Nothing I feel like telling you about over a hotel phone. Suffice to say I cannot believe even Obadiah could remain oblivious at this point."

"Of course," Cal says, amused.

"Damn. He'll probably stay in, then."

"Most likely yes."

"Figures," Cal says. "Whatever, with my luck he'd probably get turned, anyway."

He tries to make it into a joke, but it falls hopelessly flat.

Precisely one and a half seconds pass by without Sherlock having any idea what to say.

Cal swallows, tapping his cigarette several times against the edge of the ashtray.

"And - I'd hate for Tony to have to deal with that. So. Maybe it's for the best."

"Yes," he murmurs.

It feels like it's been a long time since that night, but it hasn't.

Not really.

"I'm sorry."

It doesn't cover it. Nothing covers it. Language as a whole is completely inadequate to the situation.

"It never comes up when I think it's going to," Cal mutters.

He taps the cigarette again, too hard this time. The cherry tumbles out into the ashtray.

"These things generally don't."

Cal takes a deep breath, tries to push it all away. He's spent a lot of time keeping it locked up.

Funny how that's a lot easier to do when there isn't anyone sympathetic listening in.

". . . Talk about something else."

"D'you know I can't find a single clear picture of what that hillside looked like before the road washed out? Not one. The best I can do is satellite imagery and there's nothing close to enough detail."

Cal takes another breath, forcing his concentration onto what Sherlock is saying.

"That's - that seems kind of strange."

He picks up his lighter and relights his cigarette.

"Well, it's a bloody obscure hillside, to be sure. What did you do to that cigarette? It had at least a minute to go."

Cal blinks.

". . . I knocked the cherry out by accident."