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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[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?

[Sherlock's staring accusingly at the mess, his communicator still gripped tightly in his right hand, buzzing and turning on and off as the detective looks like he's very much trying to control his breathing to avoid some kind of meltdown. Not unlike the one he had after he thought he'd seen the Hound.

This was real, it was really happening, waves of fear gripped his chest--blast, he was back in the cell, back in solitary where he couldn't stop his mind from racing, where he couldn't stop it from telling him how much of a failure he was, or he was back in Serbia on the run against Moriarty's men, or he was up there on the roof with Moriarty himself and--]

John?

[The sudden appearance of his friend managed to snap him somewhat out of his increasingly panicked state. Not that Sherlock would admit he was ever panicked, but the obvious signs were there. Dialated pupils, rapid pulse and breathing, sweat beading across his forehead.]

Yeah, it's me.

[ relieved as john is to see his friend again after such a long time, there's no shirting around the fact he looks worse in person and it takes him by surprise, smile fading rapidly from his face. he instantly wonders if he's taken anything, but then feels instantly ashamed of himself. it's impossible he could've taken anything -- he's only just gotten here.

unfortunately, that probably means he's having a panic attack, like the one he experienced in devon after breathing in frankland's bloody hallucinogenic gas. ]

Come on mate, it stinks in here. Let's get some fresh air.

[The mere presence of John had done some good in calming him a little. He nodded.]

Right.

[He quickly turned around and pocketed his still madly-reacting communicator, and pushed the door open to the grossly humid Florida air. He took another deep breath, attempting to center himself. At least the electronics around them had calmed down and ceased responding to him.]

[ standing at the side and linking his hands behind his back, john keeps his eyes on him the whole time. he's really here... unless someone with shape shifting abilities is messing with him. he doubts it though -- he only knows two people who can use that ability. one of them was ported out ages ago and the other one is probably under house arrest again.

no, this is real and john smiles to himself. he waits until sherlock takes another breath before asking: ]

You okay?

[A nod.]

Better.

[Now that he'd calmed down a bit, he could take stock in what just happened. Unless this really was some ridiculous prank or stunt, he had just destroyed a microwave with his mind. The reservations that this was a dream were disappearing. He was fighting off the effects of a panic attack and that should be enough to wake him. He was still here. And unless he was in a coma of some sort, this world remained very real, and unchanging.

Blast.]

This is really happening. I just...did you see what just happened back there? [He rubbed his face, his fingers trembling, as the adrenaline began to wear off.] I did that. How did I do that? It listened to me. How is that even possible? What's the science behind it!? Is it some sort of mental energy field? This is mad. We're in another world, John!? This changes everything. Everything. We're in a place that's got...teleporters--

[He paced a bit back and forth, rapidly speaking, full of too much energy now to stay still. His eyes were wide with that sort of mania he got sometimes. He stood in front of John after a couple more paces.]

What on earth have we gotten ourselves into?

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