Yes. There’s plenty that you need to look out for. He’s extremely stupid, and I’ve no doubt that you could think circles around him while you were completely unconscious. But that’s not the same thing as defenseless. The most important to be aware of is his—disgusting—tongue. Has a reach of about twenty-five feet or so. Stay out of range of that, think of an elephant with it’s trunk—it’s like that. Just as dangerous as the rest of him.
It’s also possible that if he gets riled, he might spit at you. It’s some kind of acid or adhesive grossness. Slimy and green and just plain unpleasant. He’d aim for your face, for sure, so watch out for that.
Aside from the tongue thing, his leg strength is ridiculous. And by ridiculous I mean—Well. Figure a human body with a frog’s muscle structure in the legs. You’d be more exact than I would in guessing how hard he could kick. Consequently, that leg strength makes it so he can jump pretty high. If you were to corner him somewhere, he’d just go up.
[ Feeling like she hit the important parts, she rested her hands on her hips and frowned for a moment in thought. What kind of habits or tendencies did a toad have because eating bugs and being gross? ] As far as his habits go? I’m pretty sure he hangs out in dives. Some place he might find a dominant personality to get him into trouble and maybe alcohol. He doesn’t have a high opinion of himself, so he wouldn’t stay in someplace that was nice. Probably near the water. Any place at the top of your list to check out?
Ah… Now that must be rather odd. [A man with the properties of a toad? Certainly sounds like a made up story, but she really doesn’t seem to be lying, and so he’ll simply listen to everything piece of information that she has to offer so that he can commit it to memory and hopefully use it to help find this man— or toad, whichever one wishes to call him.]
I see. So, as a recap, he has a twenty-thirty foot tongue, can spit acid, and has the proportional leg strength of a toad? That’s something entirely new to me. But, I’ll certainly do my best to locate him. And I’ll be certain to take you along with me, should I get a clue as to where he might be.
[He pauses for a moment to think, eyes darting about as he sifts through his mind palace to locate the likely places a man of such… peculiar habits might frequent. There’s many places, when one truly thinks about it, but Sherlock begins narrowing them down to the most likely, and then pushing them aside for a moment, because unless the man is a complete and utter idiot he isn’t going to go for the most obvious. After a few moments, he zones back in and turns his gaze back to her features.] Indeed. There’s an alley near the Thames, in which there’s three very run down pubs frequented by the lowest level but very much dangerous criminals London seems abundant with. We’ll try there first.
[Once she pulls away from the kiss, she smirks and helps him to adjust his collar. He had nowhere to be, so her motives are less than innocent; she intends to simply fiddle with the garment in order to be a hindrance rather than to help him look presentable] It’s only a preview… [Irene responds before she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth.]
[Sherlock raises an eyebrow down at her as she continues to fix his collar despite it looking fine, his head tilting. He knows exactly what she’s doing, of course, she does it all the time. She’s plotting. And all he can do is wait and see what she has planned this time.] Ah, that makes more sense. [He hums, nodding as a faint smile tilts his lips.]
❝ —— I guess you never got the memo,
then. I was his… lap dog, as you so generously
put it, but I quit working for him a few months
before the whole incident on the roof even
occured. I’m not his pet. I want to help you.
I’m on your side now. ❞
I imagine you’ll understand why I’m reluctant
to just take your word on that, but very well.
For conversation’s sake, do continue.
[She wastes no time in claiming the kiss she had been pining for, and let her lips toy with his for awhile; Sherlock may not actively seek sex, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t fluster him and plaugue his mind palace until he succumbbed to such primal desires. She begins with but a taste. Pulling away slowly, she lets her arms fall from around his neck, the only thing still tethering them together being Sherlock’s arms around her was it.] That is all.
[He’s not surprised when he feels Irene’s lips against his own, and he tilts his head for a moment, kissing her back for a moment. Irene’s sex drive is as insatiable as his drive for mental stimulation, and so he often finds himself being teased until instincts take over his logical side. When she pulls away, he lifts an eyebrow down at her, withdrawing his hands from her hips.] Rather tame, by your standards. [He chuckles, smoothing out the front of his jacket before sniffing.]
Are you always this charming?
Absolutely. It’s a gift.
Lestrade was very descriptive. [ But onto business. She produced a folder and opened it to lay on one picture after another of her quarry. ] This fugitive from a high school science class is who I’m looking for. Mortimer Toynbee, alias Toad—for obvious reasons. Mutant. Henchman usually. He specializes in petty crimes and doing what he’s told by someone stronger than he is. He’s supposed to be cooling his heels in a SHIELD containment cell, along with a few others. They all escaped somehow. Instead of going off to cause New York City trouble though, he fled here.
Other heroes are going after the big ones. Toad isn’t big game, but he’s got information, access and connections to the big game. It’s important that SHIELD knows what he knows in case their capture and subsequent escape was part of a bigger plan. The problem is right now, that we don’t know. He has no friends, no living family, no connection to England that we know of other than past business transactions when he was attached to a group. I haven’t heard anything from the players here that suggest they’ve made contact with him, so that brings me to you, Mr. Holmes.
I have 48 hours to find him before SHIELD is “forced to take more drastic measures.” They want to avoid an international incident if possible, but if it comes down to “national security” blah blah blah, you see where this is going.
I’m sure he was. [Sherlock raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to show that he’s listening as he turns his attention to the folder. He nods as she speaks, and picks up the individual photos to better examine them, getting a good look at the man should he come across him at some point in this investigation. It’s rather strange, really. He’s never come across someone who appears to look like a toad.
Ah, so this one isn’t even one of the more powerful ones. Rather odd to consider, but he supposes he’ll learn more about the situation at some point. Perhaps he’ll get to learn more about the other types of ‘mutants’ during this investigation— he’s certainly hoping so. He’s more than a little curious now that he’s learned a little about it.]
Forty eight hours? That’s doable. Tell me, is there anything in particular I need look out for? I need as much information about him and his preferences or tendencies that you can possibly give me. If I know any of his habits or needs for his ‘mutation’, then it’s more likely that I’ll manage to work out what he might be up to.
Needed some fresh air, clear my head.
What about yourself? Other than being
punched in the face…
Ah, I was on a case.
Unfortunately, that was the reason
for said punch to the face. Unhappy
husband whom was discovered
to be having an affair.
I’m busy, so make it quick and interesting.
Apparently, they send you to the hospital.
Successful, I’m guessin’.
And yet, here you are, not in the hospital.
Yes, of course.
Well… I see no reason to be good when being bad is so much fun… besides, I have you to keep me from getting into too much trouble, and me to return the favour. [Sherlock got into trouble as well, thanks to his lack of social filter; he often requires her to alleviate the situation with her charms, and she doesn’t mind doing it seeing as it is a source of amusement.]
I thought you might say something like that. But, I suppose you’re quite right, so I can’t really complain. [She’s often had to pull him out of a situation because he’s put his foot in it somehow, and she has to right whatever wrong he’s created.] Now, was there anything else? [He tilts his head, eyebrows raising for a moment as he gestures to where she’s draped around him. Not that he particular minds, he actually has nothing to do.]