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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[ 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?

Yeah... it was, uh, amazing really. You know, apart from the light-bulb explosion bit. I don't know how it all really works though... the Porter gives us powers when we arrive and that's about all we know. If Chris was here, he'd probably know the ins and outs.

[ because let's face it, this world and its inhabitants look like they belong in one of the comic books he reads. sherlock's question elicits a small, humourless huff from john. ]

It's a lot to take in at first. Especially when you don't remember this place. Not that it's nice being brought back here, but yeah, it'll get easier.

[Comic books, right. He suddenly wished he didn't delete some of the random information he'd picked up about them. Never thought he'd ever need it.

John's compliment did make him feel a bit better, even though he didn't actually earn it other than getting the luck of the draw.]

It's...wait, what do you mean, 'don't remember this place?' 'Brought back here?'

Uh, just... a comment. Sometimes, people are ported out and then come back a few months later. I don't know how it really works but some people remember this place while others don't. It can get a bit awkward sometimes. You'll meet someone, they'll leave and when they come back, they don't have the foggiest idea who you are.

That's...odd.

[Sherlock stares at him for a little too long, tilting his head to the side.]

Has it happened to you?

What? Having people come back and not remembering this place? Yeah, it's happened to me. Quite a few times now.

[ he clears his throat, looking down at his feet. ]

Still. It's just one of those things. You get used to it.

[Sherlock studies him a bit more, but his formerly impassive face turns sympathetic, a rare sight for those who thought he's nothing more than a cold machine.]

Sorry. That must have been difficult.

[Look, he's growing up!]

[ john looks back up. they've known each other for years now, and gone through a hell of a lot together, but he's still always slightly taken aback when sherlock acts... well, human. ]

It's fine. Anyway, I said I'd tell you about my second power when I got here. Don't suppose you've got a lighter handy?

[ because this is far more preferable than breaking the news to sherlock that, actually, he's one of these people who have gone and come back with no memories. ]

[Sherlock nods and is relieved that he's not made to say or do anything overly sentimental. As much as he does actually care, saying it out loud is a bit much. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter.]

Here you go.

[Now he's desperately curious. After what he himself had just done--he had actually destroyed a microwave with his thoughts, how incredible!--he's fully expecting something amazing. His brain's still reeling from all of this.]

Cheers.

[ john takes the lighter from sherlock, gripping it in his dominant hand and holds his palm out over the lighter. he takes a deep breath and then, with a quick, powerful motion of his thumb, rolls the spark wheel down to the ignition button and presses it down hard.

the wheel strikes a spark that ignites the gas into a steady flame that, instead of scorching john's open palm, simply tickles the newly, hardened skin that ripples up and disappears underneath the cuff of his shooting jacket. looking thoroughly relieved that it worked and didn't hurt, john releases the ignition button and hands the lighter back. ]

Sometimes, my body will do stuff like that. Adapt to things that might hurt quite a lot.

[Sherlock's not quite sure what to expect. His imagination leaps wildly to perhaps some fire-based power or something to do with metal. Before he could do much else his eyes widened as John lifts his palm over the lighter and just--burns himself!?]

John--what--NO--

[His protests were pointless after his heart had stopped for entirely too long in the fear that his friend had hurt himself, as he realized a little too slowly that he was in fact, not harmed.

He blinks for a good twenty seconds, his voice disappearing a moment as he tried to clear it with a cough.]

You...that...didn't that hurt?!

[ john attempts to clench his fingers, but meets resistance as the digits curl inward. frowning, he flexes his wrist for a moment, but the skin on that hand remains tough and rigid. ]

Not one bit. It's probably going to be a bit stiff until tomorrow, though.

[Sherlock stares, and tentatively holds out his own hand. His brows furrowed, expecting John to say no, but he couldn't not ask.]

Can I, er, see it?

[This was all new to him--as far as he knew--and he wasn't sure if John was uncomfortable with this--he hated using the word but what else could he call it?--'superpower'.

But the scientific side of him was absolutely dying of curiosity. So many questions were whirling around in his mind. How was this possible? Cellular adaptation upon potential damage! Did it involve some kind of previously unknown cellular potential that all humans had or was it based around some kind of energy field in the way he imagined his own must be? He was still sorting through what happened to himself, the only way for his mind to be able to access computers would be through some kind of field generated by his mind, perhaps...]

[ john presses his lips together and looks around. he doesn't want someone to walk by and get the wrong idea about them. caught holding hands? he can just imagine the posts on rumblr. fortunately, no one has returned to the petrol station yet and this is enough for john to agree. ]

Go ahead.

[ he tentatively puts his hand in sherlock's and lets the detective examine it. as soon as the flame licked john's skin, it generated innate armour, an almost rock-like quality that protected him from burning himself. it's not massively different from his other hand -- it was only a tiny flame, after all -- but the differences are there. ]

[Sherlock was either oblivious to what people might say or more likely he just didn't care, but he took John's hand and very carefully examined it, paying close attention to the bit that was 'burned'. He peered closely at it, and could quickly tell and feel the difference between the quality of his normal skin and that which had the armor.]

Fascinating!

[He's giddy with the promise of scientific discovery that completely overcomes his previous apprehension and fear of the situation he'd found himself in. He lets go of John's hand, his eyes alight with that gleam he got when a particularly gruesome or impossible case appeared.]

John, your cells--do they respond to everything and anything that can harm you?

[He also seemed quite oblivious to how ominous that must have sounded.]

[ john attempts the dexterity of his hand again while sherlock' mind whirls with the possibilities of his power. he might've made himself trouble in the long run, but at least he's coaxed him back from a full blown panic attack. ]

Yeah. Not everything at once, obviously. I'm not like Superman; I can only handle one threat at a time.

[ it's why he was insusceptible to scarecrow's fear toxin but ended up with a bullet in his leg instead. not that he'll ever tell sherlock about that. even now, he struggles with what happened back then. ]

Like I said, it's a bit hard to explain.

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