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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[...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.

[John catches the game clumsily, but is very receptive to the idea of distraction. The doctor starts setting up the board, clicking his tongue when his hand shakes momentarily with the last traces of shock, clenching it on and off until it's steady again. John clears his throat.]

Feel free. Though I doubt it'll be anything besides Baker St... I'll be Colonel Mustard.

[He quirks a grin in Sherlock's direction.]

No changing the rules this time, alright?

Two Bakerstreet flats? Your unoriginality is staggering, John. You could have a bedroom out of Buckingham Palace if you wanted.

[Scowl. Oh, this argument again.]

You do realize that if my only course of action is to deduce what cards you hold based upon what cards I have, I can likely solve the game in a turn?

Well maybe I don't want a room in Buckingham palace. Just one of their ashtrays.

[Grins, far more relaxed.]

Oh, come off it, Sherlock. No you can't.

That can be arranged. Again.

And I assure you I can. Would you like to make a bet?

Might be a bit difficult getting into Buckingham Palace from here.

[Quirks an eyebrow]

...A bet, is it? Alright then. What sort of bet?

If I can guess the killer, location and weapon in one turn, you have to live in a bedroom of my choosing for a month.

[Will a subject go crazy in a completely red room? Does color trigger psychosomatic response? This could be a wonderful opportunity to research....]

...A bedroom of your...

[He stops, he's starting to learn not to question these things by now. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, the doctor considers it, then nods.]

Okay, alright then. And if you can't...

[Normally, he'd bet something about Sherlock getting his own fridge to keep body parts in, perhaps making tea more often, or maybe running more errands for the two of them, something that back in their own world would have made him happy a few months ago... but watching Sherlock commit suicide changed a few of his priorities about the other man.]

[Sherlock can sense some hesitation. He figures it's just difficult to think of something.]

I should probably remind you that 'magic' sort of takes care of most things domestic around here. I could probably still be expected to to the hoovering but I don't think you'd approve of my methods.

Right... Okay, how about this; if you get it wrong, you have to promise no experimenting on me without my knowledge for a month. If you ask me and I volunteer, that's fine, but none of that slipping-supposedly-drugged-sugar-into-my-coffee again.

Which in essence means that after a month I'm allowed to do as I like. That's very generous, John. I accept these terms.

Fine then, deal.

[He decides not to comment on the first part, and reaches down to start setting up the game, blindly picking a single weapon, person and room card and sliding it into the envelope, making sure neither of them can see. Then, he goes through dealing the cards and setting up the game, even though this first move is the only one that really matters. He glances at Sherlock over the top of his cards.]

Right then, deduce away.

[Sherlock looks at his cards, eyes John, the board, then his hand again. Finally he puts his cards down.]

Colonel Mustard, the rope, the study.

[He holds out his hand. Give him the envelope so he can check.]

[John raises is eyebrows in interest, then picks up the envelope and hands it to the other man, watching him with a bit of childish anticipation, the first step in the awed reactions he's never grown out of towards Sherlock's deductions.]

[Sherlock looks at the cards in the sleeve, nods, and then puts them together with his cards.]

Well, I win.

How do you feel about blue?

[Oh, John's not falling for that so easily. He momentarily shakes the awed expression from his face.]

Oi, not so fast, let me see!

[Reaches out to try and snag the cards.]

Edited 2012-03-07 21:34 (UTC)

[Sherlock holds the cards over his head.]

No need, I already assessed my victory.

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