Long listens as placidly as he does most things, sampling another of his dishes while Sherlock Holmes reflects, and then speaks.
(Oh, the mussels are extraordinary. He puts a few more onto his plate before nudging the main dish to Sherlock's side of the table.)
As Sherlock finishes, he nods sagely (nodding sagely is something that Mayland Long would like to be good at) and lifts his wineglass again for another demure sip. Dab of napkin to the lips before answering.
" Irrigators channel waters; fletchers straighten arrows; carpenters bend wood; the wise master themselves." (Sherlock is probably quite used to Long's insertion of quoted truisms into conversation, by this point.)
The napkin is lowered again, and Long laces his fingers beneath his chin. "Whatever Mr. Blood's state of spiritual attainment, or lack thereof, answering fire with fire destroys the whole land."
Long straightens somewhat, and smiles, easily, casually, dismissing the weighty matters of philosophy with that gesture. "You must try the mussels, though."
no subject
(Oh, the mussels are extraordinary. He puts a few more onto his plate before nudging the main dish to Sherlock's side of the table.)
As Sherlock finishes, he nods sagely (nodding sagely is something that Mayland Long would like to be good at) and lifts his wineglass again for another demure sip. Dab of napkin to the lips before answering.
" Irrigators channel waters; fletchers straighten arrows; carpenters bend wood; the wise master themselves." (Sherlock is probably quite used to Long's insertion of quoted truisms into conversation, by this point.)
The napkin is lowered again, and Long laces his fingers beneath his chin. "Whatever Mr. Blood's state of spiritual attainment, or lack thereof, answering fire with fire destroys the whole land."
Long straightens somewhat, and smiles, easily, casually, dismissing the weighty matters of philosophy with that gesture. "You must try the mussels, though."