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It was a sunny day.
Or was it a rainy day?
It could even be a windy day.
Gehrman doesn't exactly remember the weather of that day, but one thing he remembers clearly is that his lord said something to him. Something that he would forever cherish inside the back of his mind. Although currently he couldn't remember what it is due to his memories failing him somehow, even if he is currently an Attendant of Mysteries now, was it possible in the first place? How should Gehrman know? The lord has 'His' reason to do this to him.
All he knows is that he must complete the lord's request as soon as it was demanded.
A cup of sweet iced tea. sweet and simple isn't it? except for the fact that it had to follow every procedure that the old owner of 'His' favorite store, whose mortal life had sadly came to an end not long ago. Gehrman could have pulled the sweet iced tea directly from a historical projection if it wasn't for the fact that the lord had also said that 'He' wanted it to be made by Gehrman's own hand.
How could have Gehrman disobey the lord's request when he's so head over heels for the lord?
So here he is, Utopia, in the kitchen of the detective Sherlock Moriarty, who isn't even home right now because that man's always so busy with different cases here and there being thrown in the face. Sherlock couldn't even be here to help when Gehrman is troubled with the problems associated directly with the lord! How dare Sherlock had decided that those cases were even more important than the lord!? Even dared to leave Gehrman who, in fact, is literally the worst cook of all the direct disciples of The Fool. Sure he could make something simple like rice, fried eggs, roasted food, simple survival kit something like that, but what about delicate items such as an afternoon tea set? Somehow he always managed to mess it up every single time no matter how often or how hard he tried to learn it, Gehrman just couldn't get it right.
Gehrman just started to boil the water and somehow it just kept spilling everywhere without the pot being touched at all. So he decides to use a kettle instead, good thing that it didn't explode or something like the last time he used it. The next step was steeping the tea, which also worked fine. The sugar and milk were also smoothly added to the pot. ' Weird... ' Gehrman thought. It never went as smoothly before. Could it be that the spirit world is on his side today?
Of course they would never. Sherlock suddenly came home with a cat in his arms, and that cat had jumped out of Sherlock's arm to spill and ruin Gehrman's tea everywhere. The cat even had the audacity to walk back to Sherlock and demanded uppies right after. Sherlock being Sherlock carefully picked up the cat before realizing that Gehrman was there staring at him directly from across the hallway where that kitchen resided.
" Oh my lord.. OH. OH LORD I-I'M SO SORRY GEHRMAN!!??? a-are you alright? I didn't expect you to come here today.. S-Sorry that the cat got out of hand so s-suddenly "
Poor Sherlock looked absolutely terrified to see what had happened. The moment Gehrman snapped his head to look at the newcomer, Sherlock's face went even paler than beyonders of the Death Pathway. Sherlock immediately shielded that cat that did every wrong that could've been prevented.
and now Gehrman stands there staring like he was about to return to the lord's hometown and cook that cat alive, but wait... Isn't it odd that the cat was inside the house? Sherlock doesn't own a cat, nor does he casually left a window open.
" Oh kitty kitty how did you get in even... "
Sherlock cooed while petting the cat in his arms. The cat didn't even look at him, because it was directly looking at Gehrman. It gave chills up his spine and it didn't help in the slightest bit now that he looked closely. The cat even looked like if the lord himself had shifted into a cat.
" Sherlock. "
" y- yes? yes sir- I mean yeah? w- what's up? "
" what was the last time a cat broke into your house? "
" Uh.. not that often? maybe never? I think they do occasionally when I'm home, but not when I'm away though "
" Maybe you accidentally left my window open somewhere in the living room? "
Gehrman turned his head towards the living room and- oh yeah. The window was actually open. How did he not notice that?
" sigh... You're right. I'm just gonna start over. "
" You want any help with that? "
" Would be nice, but no. You watch the cat. "
" Seems reasonable enough to me. "
Sherlock kinda gave Gehrman a side eye before walking away into the living room, picking up some newspaper to catch up on some news, not that they needed to know anyways. It's just nice to have entertainment you know?
Gehrman then proceeded to start the whole process of making sweet iced tea again.
Steep the tea leaves.
Pour it out.
And oh- it spilled a little.. that wasn't an ideal situation. No worries, do it again.
Steep the tea leaves.
Pour it out.
Add some sugar-
Lord damn it- He added too much. No. again.
Steep.
Pour.
Add sugar.
Stir- and oh my lorddddd. HE STIRRED TOO HARD AND NOW IT SPILLED OVER THE SIDE AGAIN.
Gehrman was a patient man when it came to the lord. So he kept trying. over and over and over and over again, and to his perfectionism dismay, something would always go wrong during these simple steps. Whether it was a little too much, too little, spilling, fucked up right at the steeping process, or simply the wind had blown over and took away some of them temperature, He didn't even know when did the window open on its own!
Most of the tea went into a spare bucket, scheduled for watering the plants later. Well the plants are going to get a lot of caffeine in their roots today.
Sherlock would periodically peek over and ask if Gehrman's sure he didn't need any help, because this was taking wayyyy longer than expected. Of course Gehrman would always say that he's fine and did not need any extra help, Sherlock obviously gave him the face that he did not believe that. Sherlock didn't even try to mask his worry with the ability of a Clown.
The cat even looked like it was pitying him. It jumped out of Sherlock's lap and walked over towards Gehrman. Just as Sherlock was panicking and shouting for the cat to come back. It had already circled around Gehrman's leg. Gehrman felt like he's going to collapse and cry at that moment and run away from the entire world for being so pathetic and worthless. So he just crouches down and cover his face in his palms.
To his disappointment, he's still one of the high ranking angels of The Fool. By the time he felt like looking at the world again, Gehrman found out that he wasn't in Sherlock's house anymore. The scenery is familiar and almost comforting. Almost as if it was mocking him because this is exactly the situation he wanted to avoid the most today.
Sitting across from the Lord with the task being incomplete.
Oh he was so ready to be scolded and sent to crawl with the maggots-infested pile of corpse that he proudly built.
Instead he was met with the coldness of tentacles touching his face. That alone already made him succumb to the fate he's about to face. He could feel the rest of the tentacles crawling up his legs and torso. They finally wrapped around his neck and mercilessly suffocating him. Not in the physical sense, they were intimidating enough for him to immediately fold under zero pressure. Gehrman was suffocating himself with his mind and his mind only. The Lord didn't have to do anything and Gehrman is already punishing himself.
Mr. Fool stood up from His seat and walked over towards Gehrman, feeling dejavu almost like this situation had already happened before. Mr. Fool didn't say a word and carefully held Gehrman's face in one had, thoroughly examining it, turning it left and right.
Gehrman felt fingers brushing over his tears, he had tears? Was he crying this whole time? Gehrman's body felt warm despite the tentacles wrapped around him being cold as ice.
" Oh did I prank you too far my dear adventurer? "
" Oh you don't need to hold back your tears around me, you already knew that "
Mr. Fool's voice was ethereal and soothing. Gehrman has already sobbed, the longer he stayed up in the fogs, the longer he felt more vulnerable. Mr. Fool gave him a kiss on the head and hovered a tentacle over his eyes, closing them and drifting his consciousness away. Putting the mad man to sleep.
" You looked so cute being miserable my dear. "
" Maybe I should do this more often. "