maskormenace | 001 Video

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[There's some fumbling and muttered rude words, a flash of blue and gray. Finally it comes into focus, a tall, thin man--not as tall as he looks--gazing intensely into the screen. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that his dark curls are sticking to. His eyes dart back and forth rapidly, and his pallor suggests he's ill or at least feels ill. He's wearing a fitted white shirt under a tailored suit jacket. More likely the latter, though he looked like he didn't belong in Florida weather. He's in an alleyway, someplace quiet.]

Hello. My name is Sherlock Holmes.

[He's expecting some recognition or something. That arrogant tilt of his chin hides the utter bewilderment and flabbergastation that's whirling around in that mind. Oh yeah, he's dead confused and completely out of his element, figuratively and literally.]

Clearly this is some massive practical joke, no doubt financed by someone who hates me. Since that's a lot of people, I figured I would address as many as possible with this device. You can't expect me to believe I haven't just been kidnapped and dropped in this disgusting swamp and that some stupid newspaper has-been in search of his last chance at a proper story is waiting behind curtain number three to snap a picture of me making a fool of myself. Or a mad little experiment from our old friends at Baskerville. I really don't care, though admittedly, you've done an excellent job with the special effects, the cars...the science fiction. Theatrical. I applaud the spectacle.

However, it grows tiresome. This ruse is stupid, so you can stop this now, you can give up.

I also will need plane tickets back to London immediately, return my actual phone, and someone to remove this idiotic tattoo.

Don't make me call my brother.

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It's not a trick. I mean, it does sound pretty mad when you read it on paper, but it's all true. I'm in Virginia right now but I can use a Porter to come and meet you. I, uh, lived in Heropa for a bit; what shops do you see?

[ he neglects to mention he's just a few months shy of his third year of being stuck here. to a keen eye, it's probably blindingly obvious. his hair is a bit longer, flecked with a few more grey strands, along with the lines on his face being more pronounced. ]

[After getting over his initial shock, Sherlock is able to deduce the signs that John looks...a bit older. It's so impossible--improbable--that the detective shakes his head almost imperceptibly, not wanting to accept what reality had in store. Maybe it was faked. But why? It would be pointless. No matter who hated him or wanted him dead--and that was a long list he was sure--this was far too subtle and pointless to try and fake.]

Virginia.

[His tone flattens further, dully. But he's getting agitated, much like that one night after he had seen the 'Hound'. Where he was having trouble determining what was real and what was false. Doubt. Fear. It was all there in his eyes.]

This isn't...John, this can't be...

[He looks far more like a lost puppy at the moment than much else. Sherlock Holmes was a confident genius when the world wasn't pulled out from under his feet.]

A few restaurants...gas station. A consignment store.

[ john looks on sympathetically. this could be potentially worse than the phantom hound he saw with henry knight. it's an entirely new universe. wetting his lips, his voice becomes softer and he leans in toward the screen. maybe he will respond better to facts and structure right now -- either way, he'll try not to bristle if Sherlock lashes out at him again. ]

Look, I know all of this is a bit of a shock. I didn't believe it myself at first. I'm guessing you didn’t hang around the de-briefing, but did they at least give you a pamphlet before you left? It has everything you need to know.

I think I know where you are. The gas station -- it should have a coffee machine in there. Just grab one and wait for me there, okay? It shouldn't take too long.

[Quite honestly Sherlock had probably deleted any information he did pick up. He hd scanned the pamphlet, though. He was far more trusting of John, and far more likely to believe him than anything or anyone else. As much as this was ridiculous, or he was heavily drugged, this still seemed real. Though he'd fallen into the rabbit hole of realistic dreams before...he'd made sure that he was grounded now. He'd felt pain, he'd been able to read clearly, all signs that he was not in some level of unconsciousness or REM sleep.]

I read something or the other. You can't expect me to believe this is all true...?

[He's scoffing, but the tone suggests scorn and derision borne of fear. He was upset and trying very much to hide it. The background was changing as he began walking towards the gas station as he held his device.]

Right. Going there now. I can only assume that you're going to magically appear here from Virginia?

Edited 2016-11-16 12:00 (UTC)

What is it you said that one time? How the improbable has to be true once you've ruled out the impossible? Well, I think this situation calls for it now. Something brings us here and the people in the lab can't figure out how it does it exactly. If they did, we'd all have been sent home ages ago. It takes people from everywhere.

[ john starts to move about on his end as well. he puts the communicator down briefly to put on his jacket, giving sherlock a view of his flat, before he picks it up again and holds it in front of his face. ]

No, I'm probably going to take the bus once I get to Heropa. I've never actually used these teleporters before, so fingers crossed.

[He's right. And right now the impossible was being rather rudely altered. He studies the flat John showed him for the short time that he was showed it.]

How long, exactly, have you been here?

[It didn't make sense. He had seen John in London not too long ago. His brain was firing off at rapid speed trying to explain all of this.]

Oh. Naturally, a bus would be involved.

[He's still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that there was a transporter. Why not? What else could he be shocked by at this point!?]

Not very long.

[ he could tell sherlock the truth. how he's been two years and nine months and how the porter has gone not through one, but three iterations of the famous detective before now. mary, mycroft, lestrade, molly... they've all been here at some point before being sent back to london. if this wasn't a recurring theme in his life, he might've found it too much to bear.

instead he decides to deflect his question. john has never been a very successful liar but some conversations can wait until he's at least calmed down a little bit. ]

I could take a taxi instead. Anyway, what's the last thing you remember? From back home?

[ a lot of time may have passed for john, but he hasn't forgotten the time he invaded a drug den looking for isaac whitney and came out with sherlock holmes instead. he's been hoping his sickly pallor is because of the humidity and not something else. ]

Edited 2016-11-16 22:44 (UTC)

[At this point things were so weird that he was willing to ignore what his deductions were telling him about John's appearance. Maybe he was right. He wasn't sure if he could trust his own observations right now.]

The last thing? The message from Moriarty. That he's back.

[A pause. A look of extreme guilt.]

It's fuzzy, I'm not exactly sure how or when I came here.

[He wasn't on anything now, if John was worried. Though the way reality has gotten all mixed it up it could have explained it.. He knew that this--what he was seeing--wasn't a mad fever dream. He'd made sure of that. There were several ways one could tell if they were in a dream or not, as long as they didn't fall in too deep...then again, if this was a dream he'd wake up eventually. A small part of him wondered if he was in a coma somewhere. Regardless, he had to deal with what reality had presented him, and as mad as it was, it did have its own set of rules and logic. Dreams often broke that.]

[ john looks relieved their timeline of events match until sherlock starts looking guilty. like i've just admitted to drugging your tea kind of guilty and he presses his lips together, wondering what that look entails. he can at least sympathize with the disorientation from being ported in and focuses on that. ]

I don't remember much either. One minute Mary and I were seeing you off, then Moriarty's face was everywhere and then I was here. Bit anticlimactic and I still don't get it. Is Moriarty alive, then?

[That guilty look lingered until he entered the gas station and wandered over to the coffee machine. Right well, at least John didn't remember the last few minutes after that. And he wasn't going to say a thing unless he had to.]

No, Moriarty's definitely dead. But I know what he's going to do next.

[At least, he could do something, if he was in London. Who knew what would happen now? He looked sour at that.]

There's no point in it now! We're stuck here, aren't we? Is Mary with you?

[ it's clear by the look of confusion written all over john's face that he doesn't have the foggiest what he means by that. if moriarty is dead, how can sherlock know what his next move is? luckily he distracts him by enquiring about mary. ]

Uhh no, she isn't. [ which is a blessing in disguise, because he doesn't know how sherlock will react to his heavily pregnant wife being size twelve and unmarried again in his condition. ] She was here for a while until she was ported out. Since then, it's just been me.

[Sherlock ignores John's confusion--he was used to it when he often spouted some random deduction that was twenty steps ahead of everyone else--and instead focused on what he said about Mary. The detective's brows furrowed and he looked actually sympathetic. With all that poor John's been through, at least the stuff that he knew about--who knew what he went through here...yeah, he was experiencing some actual empathy.]

I'm...sorry to hear that.

[It's actually genuine, too.]

[Sherlock busied himself with the coffee, having absolutely no idea how to navigate socially unfamiliar situations, such as this one. All he did know was that John was probably lonely, and how awful that was. Right, maybe he should switch the topic before he came.]

So...changing the subject a bit, I can only assume you have so-called 'superpowers' as well?

Edited 2016-11-18 16:26 (UTC)

Thanks.

[ john presses his lips together and his eyes drift away, focusing on something besides the camera for a moment. he's never been very good at this; talking about his feelings, but his demeanour manages to tell the entire story for him. it's been difficult without having the people he loves the most in this world with him but he's managed like the dutiful soldier.

but even if he didn't struggle with openly expressing how he feels, he wouldn't announce it on a public network like this -- not with people like jonathan crane likely to see it. he doesn't want to make his best friend a target when he's still so new. ]

Yeah, something like that. I wouldn't call them super. If you finish your coffee before I get there, I can refill it for you. The other one? Well, it's... a bit hard to explain. [ a beat ] Did you look at your file? It should tell you what you can do here.

[A nod. He sees John's demeanor, but he also sees him soldering on and not saying much else.]

Wait, refilling my coffee? That's part of it?

[He blinks a moment.]

Something called technopathy. It seems ridiculous.

Weird isn't it? It's handy whenever I want a refill. Some people are given, uh, interesting superpowers when they come here though.

[ the boy who was sneezing out kittens sticks out in his mind, but john looks interested in his power and tilts his head in thought. ]

Oh. I'm guessing technopathy has something to do with technology, then? Controlling it maybe?

That sounds fairly useful.

[He wondered how it all worked, scientifically. Would John let him run a few experiments? It was all very fascinating in a slightly mad way and despite his reservations and shock he was starting to get very intrigued.

Something like that. Supposedly I am supposed to be able to interface with computers or some such.

Mm. I've saved a bit of money for the coffee machine, anyway.

[ sherlock's idea of research into a new subject is the reason why john hasn't revealed his other power to him yet. well, just one of them; he's been an unwilling test subject for sherlock before and he'd like to avoid one an experiment while he's still pleased to see him. as for the other reason, he doesn't want people to know about it and gain the upper hand. ]

Sooo.. basically, you can talk to computers? [ he looks faintly amused. it's the perfect power for him. ] Sounds a bit like Tron.

[Sherlock didn't really care too much about money, it was one of those things that was always sort of 'there.' Now that he was here he supposed it would probably do to at least make sure he had a little.]

Did they give you a job, too? They've assigned me to be a social worker. Idiots.

[He shudders slightly. Though he disliked the idea of working with people, he probably would be able to immediately solve any case he was given without even leaving a desk. He wasn't thinking about that, however, he was too annoyed by the prospect.]

I've not tried yet, but...

[Tron? He vaguely remembered watching that as a kid.]

Perhaps. I don't suppose...

[He looked up at a dingy old microwave, it had a digital display. How was one even supposed to...? He felt absolutely stupid, if Mycroft was here he would have laughed at him, but he tried to focus on the digital display, simple enough, right?

Suddenly the microwave began wildly flickering numbers and turning on and off, beeping like mad. Whoops.]

[ a social worker? john looks torn between bursting out laughing and horrified for the vulnerable people who could get assigned to him. although sherlock has become more... well, human, over the years, but the man still has the tendency to go around upsetting everyone without realising it. he settles on a look that looks slightly pained. ]

They had me working in the emergency room for bit. After that, I left joined a local surgery. [ it's been incredibly dull for the former soldier. ] Some people don't take the job they've been given. They go and find something else instead. It's up to you though.

[ furrowing his brow, john is about to ask him to repeat what he just said when he hears the microwave going mental and his eyes widen. he squints at the screen, trying to see what's going on. ]

Sherlock? Are you doing that? What's happening?

[Sherlock wouldn't blame him for laughing either, he thought the whole thing was fairly mad. Probably even more mad than being yanked into another world and given powers.]

Ah. Well, that's good to know. I'd rather not end up in jail or something for causing some incident or another--

[Considering that he was recently in solitary, that was certainly something he'd rather not repeat. Ever.]

I'm not sure I--

[The microwave whined and the little plate spun wildly, as the digital display seemed to activate every setting at once. Sherlock's eyes widened, and he nearly dropped his coffee, setting it down on a shelf before trying to smash the 'Stop' button. He could feel a strange, sort of static-shock connection with his fingers when he touched it, and it immediately turned off. Could be a glitch, could be a broken old machine, or it could be him. Occam's Razor...]

The microwave, it...

[He swallowed. He turned the screen so John could see the thing better. Frowning as he dropped his hand down, and tried to just 'will' it to turn on and the timer to go for thirty seconds. Why not try?

It spazzed and sparked a bit, but it followed his commands. Sherlock's eyes widened further, a slight smirk at the corner of his lips. Well.]

Edited 2016-11-19 12:41 (UTC)

[ john winces as the transmission flickers, but meticulously registers each frenzied spark from the microwave as sherlock exerts his control over it. he can't imagine the poor sod working on the till is very happy with about all this. they must be scared out of their wits or fed up with another ImPort causing property damage -- either way, john is predicting he's going to be the one buying a replacement machine. ]

Okay. That's.. brilliant, but we're going to need to make a few ground rules. One, don't use that on my laptop. Two, just... yeah, I'll think about number two. [ he looks up from his phone. ] Right, I'm just outside the military base.

[ after what he just witnessed, he's understandably worried about taking it. what if his powers somehow interfered with the machine? Rolling his shoulders, he seems resolute. he's done crazier things before today. ]

Give me a few minutes and I'll be in Heropa.

[Sherock, despite his initial reservations and disbelief about this place, was grinning like a cat who'd found a mouse to play with. He scarcely noticed the yelps of dismay--some of them more tired and annoyed tham others--and the fact that the aisles behind him had cleared out completely. He suddenly wanted to try everything he could get his hands on--wonder if they had a security system, did they have CCTV here, or perhaps he could hack into other people's various devices--hang on, was John saying something?]

What?

[Was he talking? Something about a base? Heropa? Oh right, the transport. Sometimes it felt like the detective used his abilities of deduction to piece together ignored conversations half the time more than using them for crime.]

Right. I'll just wait here then.

[ john's ears just manage to register the faint sound of people in the petrol station and looks at sherlock with fond exasperation. he doesn't know why, but he's actually missed all of this. maybe he should get a taxi just in case it's more than a microwave he'll have to replace. ]

Okay, I'm switching my device off now. I'll see you in a minute.

[ he lowers his device and cuts the feed with only a small amount of fumbling involved. ]

[Sherlock nods before the feed cuts out, at least he was paying attention at that moment. He wouldn't go anywhere. He looked around to see if there was anything else he could play with. An ATM machine, perhaps? He paused--maybe not so good. It wouldn't do to get arrested before John had come here. Though he was sure, in time, he could learn to be able to access it without activating any alarms.

He made the microwave turn on and off again by just thinking it. On, off. On off. Heh. Neat. He ignored the fact it was smoking.

Satisfied with that, he held his communicator in his hand, and willed it to turn on and off. It obeyed. A grin broke out on his face. How delightful.

The other people in the store seemed to be reluctant to go near him at the moment, something he only vaguely registered. The fact that the microwave was still turning on and off like it was possessed was probably keeping them at bay.

Though, Sherlock took a moment to realize the absurdity of the situation. This was actually happening. A part of him was still going along with this like it was a dream. It wasn't though, was it? He'd had trouble telling reality apart from a dream before, but dreams would fray in the end. Reality would break down. This one had not shown any signs of that. Well, the fact that John could get from Virginia to Florida so quickly was suspect, but not scientifically impossible, if this place had advanced technology in that regard. And if this was truly and honestly real...his stomach clenched and the microwave suddenly emitted a high-pitched whine and sparked wildly, the bulb bursting with a snap, and his communicator started going haywire.]

[ soon after he switched off his device, john stepped into the porter and arrived in heropa. he watched a lot of star trek episodes growing up to be understandably wary of transporters, but the transit was mercifully brief. he was even considering using it again one day until he exits the taxi outside the petrol station and sees people fleeing the building in fear.

john stands outside, dazed at the sight of the carnage he can see from outside, until a neon sign in the window shatters and he breaks out into a sprint. he throws open the door and rushes in. the smell of electrical burning assaults his nostrils and he barely reacts to the cashier shoving past him on his way out, focused only on sherlock standing by the microwave. ]

Sherlock?

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