entranceway | [Video] Entry 001

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[Video] Entry 001

[The camera flickers on, revealing John sitting up from being sprawled on the ground, holding his head. He groans, hissing to himself. From the grass around him, it looks like he's on the front lawn of the mansion. When he finally peeks through his fingers, the doctor notices the camera--likely his phone. He reaches for it, looking slightly perplexed when he realizes it's recording video--technology was never really his strong suit. He glances around, and when it's obvious he sees nothing familiar, he holds up the camera properly, looking into it with confusion, but resolve.]

This is John Watson, speaking. I'm currently in an unknown area and any sort of information would be... wonderful, thank you.

[The hinting of his military background dissolves slightly at the end of his request, and he gnaws at his lower lip as he observes his surroundings once more. Running a hand through his cropped hair, he mutters to himself;]

Well, one thing's for sure, this certainly isn't London...

[He then snorts in a self deprecating manner.]

Of course it isn't, John. Obvious deduction.

[He's speaking as if mimicking someone else chiding him, but the line of his mouth and the expression in his eyes is fond, if a bit sad, as he looks off. After a moment he remembers he's still on video. Clearing his throat, he fumbles with the phone uselessly a couple of times until the transmission finally shuts off.]

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[Aw... it's not okay. Well, at least now Sherlock knows from what point in time he's come from without a doubt.]

Take a seat, John.

[He fills the pot and sets it to steep.]

As I've said, this is Wonderland. It exists outside our world and like myself you'll have to simply take the fact that since we are here, it is possible and it does exist. We're not alone by any means. People from different times, different places, different realities even live here as well, similarly trapped. Conventional boarders are nonexistent; even the living and the dead can exist in the same space and be held to the same rules of mortality. It defies explanation. For now.

[He starts to pout out the tea. He knows how John takes it so he goes ahead and prepares it completely.]

For myself, you're right: I did jump. That didn't stop me from ending up here, however.

[John sits, of course, at Sherlock's insistence, not in the right state to protest--not that he could figure a reason it. The smell of tea fills the room as Sherlock talks and it's so hauntingly familiar he has to duck his head, shaking it a few times in disbelief. When he looks up again, Sherlock has already prepared his tea for him, precisely how he takes it. John swallows around the lump in his throat and mentally chides sentiment in Sherlock's place as the detective finishes talking.]

That's... that's insane. Different worlds, living and the--

[John closes his eyes, tongue feeling thick his his mouth. He could only deduce from those facts that Sherlock was in fact, dead. But there he was, talking, pacing, making him tea. John can't resist any more and reaches out for confirmation.]

...Let me...? Please?

[He asks softly, gaze locked Sherlock's wrist, the same one...]

[Sherlock's a little surprised by the request but he offers up his wrist with only the slightest hesitation.]

I would have thought motor skills and cognitive ability established my status among the living but if you require further proof, Doctor.

[He holds his hand out, palm up.]

[John's mouth twitches into something that's a horrible mix between a smile and a wince.]

Some hallucinations can be very lifelike, I've found.

[He carefully folds his hand around Sherlock's, pressing his fingers to the other's fluttering pulse. The doctor counts the beats, out of habit, and it's only after he's mentally replaced any and all numbers with "alive" that he stops and lets go of his friend's arm, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes and tilting back into his chair, laughing shakily.]

You're right. Far too many heartbeats for a ghost.

[Sherlock smiles at him and gets his own tea ready so as to sit as well.]

No such thing as ghosts here. Well, until someone from a world inhabited by ghosts comes, I'm sure. Actually, I think my last stay here had a ghost...

[Hm..... wait, no, not important.]

You have four lives while you're here, meaning it is possible to die multiple times. Do be careful. Weapons can be purchased or retrieved from magical closets. The kitchen on the first floor has every ingredient imaginable but the dining room on this floor will serve you entire meals instantly at your request, also by magical means, so it's not really worth the effort to make anything more than this.

[He gestures towards the tea]

I don't enjoy explaining things as 'magic' but you'll have to pardon me under the circumstances.

[John lowered his hands to gawk a little, the very idea of multiple deaths, magic and, most of all, Sherlock's begrudging acceptance of it all not exactly fitting together in his mental reality. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before making a scoffing stumbling noise of general overwhelmed disbelief and settled on distracting himself by taking a long sip of tea.]

...Not exactly a trip to the countryside, mentally, that. But it's... all fine. You're here after all, right?

[He talks into his tea cup, taking another long sip afterwards.]

Yes. We both are.

[Which is as close to admitting 'I lost my shit like a teenage fangirl when I saw you were here' as he gets. He's not at all good at disguising his extremely pleased smile, though.]

While I would like to get to the bottom of this case, circumstances being what they are, I'm in no hurry to leave. You should get on fine. Most communication around here is basically done via blogging and I've heard a few people bemoaning the absence of a doctor in the past. Might be you'll find yourself quite happy in the interim.

You won't remember any of this once you return, anyway, so having a terrible time is just a mild inconvenience.

[Sip~]

[John Watson can never resist smiling back when Sherlock Holmes is looking at him like that. He shifts his cup between his hands, trying to resist the desire to giggle in thrilled hysterics at those words 'we both are,' because they really are both there, together. He doesn't do very well.

When Sherlock mentions the memory loss, though, John chokes. That means that when he goes back, he won't remember this extra time here with Sherlock. The brilliant man before him will be dead and he'll be alone again. John clutches at the handle of his cup, clearing his throat, before he seems to come to a decision and half-smiles once more.]

If it's anything like it was before, I'll be more then happy here.

[He won't specify what 'before' entails, for he's sure Sherlock knows what he means. John's ears flush at the admission, but he doesn't regret it. One of those 'the things you wanted to say, but never said it' that his therapist had pressed him to admit to a gravestone not to lone ago.]

Edited 2012-03-06 05:45 (UTC)

[Sherlock knew he hadn't misjudged him. Wonderland is the perfect holiday for them. Just two people who like each other having fun.]

It's a bit dreadful since the murdered are resurrected far too soon to really get any leg work in but it's not without mystery. I have quite a long list of notes on the subject of parallel worlds and how they relate to us.

[John hums around another mouthful of tea, setting the cup down on the nearby table and clapping his hands on his knees.]

So... Since deaths here aren't as permanent as back home, will we be looking into the crime scenes as clues towards... "Wonderland" in general?

[The doctor pauses for a moment, then wrinkles his nose in a slight grimace, looking up at the other man.]

I don't like the idea of multiple resurrections, Sherlock... Seems like a too easy temptation for some to be both reckless with their own lives and violent towards others. Is there any sort of judicial system here, you know, beside us galavanting off as we normally do after criminals.

You mean like Scotland Yard? No; besides, they'd be useless anyway. They always are.

[Sherlock is in full superiority mode now that he has his blogger. He pretty much doesn't hear the bit about possibly being more inclined to recklessness. He's plenty reckless without resurrection capabilities in the first place. John doesn't need to know about sword fights in the sitting room, getting strangled during an investigative break-in. All part of the job.]

But with Wonderland being the largest, most all encompassing mystery at this time, it is certainly the better distraction while we wait for a worth while event.

[muttered as he steeples his fingers at his chin, thinking]... That American is going to be a bother...hn. [moving on~]

Just don't let that moral compass of yours get you involved in too many of other people's problems. The most common type of murder here appears to be motivated by revenge and I need at least one of us to be a good public face.

You'll be pleased to know, however, that I do have some allies here. And am sort of a celebrity. You will be too, I'm sure, but you may have to prove yourself... smarter.. than their expectations.

[And those preconceptions have nothing to do with him, thank you.]

[So, no police force. Despite Sherlock's lack of faith in the ability of Lestrade's division, they were a source of valuable back up. It was hard not to feel a bit of unease knowing they lacked that authority. Sherlock, at least, seemed familiar with this Wonderland, but that wasn't exactly comforting; made John's job a bit harder chasing after someone who knew all of London's streets like the inside of his apartment, let alone a completely different world all together.]

[He frowns, half teasing, at the jab at his 'moral compass.' He's about to make a small crack at the detective's own "compass" which seemed to get them into far more trouble then any of John's moral obligations, when the part about being a celebrity makes his eyebrows shoot up.]

Sherlock, wasn't it your celebrity status what got you into trouble back in our world? I hope you know what you're doing...

[Blimey, that was odd to say. "Our world." Would he ever get used to it?]

...And what do you mean "smarter then their expectations"? Have you been going around calling me an idiot the whole time I haven't been here?

My name and reputation proceeded me. Hardly my fault. And no; I called you short.

[Sherlock looks over at a stack of books and picks up the one on top. He tosses it to him; "A Study in Scarlet".]

Here.

I'm not that short, you're just ridiculously ta--

[John is cut off as he reflexively catches the book with one hand, turning it over in his hands and frowning at the title.]

...Sherlock, this... "A Study in Scarlet"? What--

[He opens it up, looking more confused as he finds the publication page. The doctor flips through a couple of pages, skimming through them. It only takes him a couple of lines to catch on and let out a shaky breath.]

...It's... Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. This book published in 1887 is about us...

Edited 2012-03-06 23:49 (UTC)

Indeed it is. And for a large portion of the residents here, this series of books and short stories exists. Even the ones who haven't read them know our names and our basic reputations.

[Sherlock picks up a collection of short stories and flips through it.]

The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter, of the Six Napoleons, the Speckled Band, the Bruce-Partington Plans--I do trust you follow me? Then there's another book: "The Hound of the Baskervilles".

[Cue a look. Not quite the look but certainly a look.]

...You can't be serious.

[John watches Sherlock read off the titles, feeling like the back of his skull is stuffed with cotton balls as the titles ricochet off the words he remembers writing himself--not precise, but so similar it can't be coincidence. The doctor slowly puts the book in his grasp down on the table next to him, folding his hands over his mouth and letting out a loud breath.]

I... uh... I can't... w-wow, uhm...

Edited 2012-03-07 00:09 (UTC)

[...Well, his initial intentions as to not breaking John had been good. Somewhere along the way he forgot about that in his excitement.]

Too much?

[John lowers his hands, licking his lips before grinning weakly at the other man.]

Bit too much, yeah...

[He clears his throat raggedly.]

No worries, though, I'll be fine... Just... Yeah, give me a minute to... Uhm...

[Okay, something to make John not so overwhelmed. Something fun. Something normal. Something he already knows and doesn't have to think too much about......]

Cluedo?

...

[John can't help but burst into a string of giggles at the suggestion, sudden as it was. Remembering the last time they attempted the game only made him laugh harder. Or perhaps cry. But not right now. For the moment he can't get anything else out, so he wraps his arms around his stomach, drops his head onto his knees and continues giggling, shoulders shaking.]

[Sherlock can't help but laugh. This is what best friends do and it's lovely.]

Or not.

[Sherlock's laughing is like a shiver running down his spine after an adrenaline high. It's addictive. It's lovely. He missed it so much. John grinds his forehead against his knees as his giggling eventually starts dying down, though it lingers on the edge of his breath and his words and in the corners of his eyes that is most certainly not actually tears. His shoulders tremble again in silent chuckles that litter his speech.]

...Sorry, Sherlock... I'll pull it together... just give me a few minutes...

You're revoking the ban? Excellent. I had no idea dying had such advantages. Is there anything else I can get away with that I should take advantage of while you're still in shock?

[John grunts into his knees, finally lifting his head and running a hand through his cropped hair, mussing it up. Trembling, shock, for sure. Perhaps he'll make Sherlock laugh again if he requests a blanket.]

You get away with a fair deal when I'm not in shock. I'd warn you not to push your luck, but I honestly can't see anything surprising me much at this point...

I'll have to be there when you create your room, then. I'm curious to see where you'd live if you could have any accommodations you can think of.

[Sherlock is tempted to get him a shock blanket but he still doesn't understand how the hell those are even supposed to work anyway. Like deer stalkers. People create ridiculous, useless things. Sherlock does to a closet door which is the only out of place thing in the sitting room. He pulls a game of cluedo out and tosses it to John.]

Professor Plumb for me.

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