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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[Cautiously says:]

...Twenty-two.

[Sherlock smiles and heads outside. Going to make your room very interesting indeed. He heads out to room and over to 22, set on opening it up first and changing it all up.]

[Oh no you don't...! John realizes very quick what's happening and he vaults over the low coffee table and chases after Sherlock, trying to elbow in front of him.]

No, Sherlock, you didn't win so you can't mess with it!

I did win, you just don't believe me.

[Taller than you and takes larger steps. He opens the door to number 22 and he's imagined it to be the Barts research facility. Last place they stood together before the fall.]

This was a terrible idea, John. Where are you meant to sleep?

[Because obviously this is John's fault.]

No, Sherlock, that's not how it---

[stumbles the few steps into the room after Sherlock, freezes, gawks a bit, then ducks under Sherlock's arm, still on the door handle, to enter the lab.]

Sherlock, you've ruined my room...

[He mutters, sounding a bit lost as his words echo around the beakers and cold counters.]/

Oh, you can change these things as many times as you like. I guess this is what I default when I think 'hospital room'. Hm. Good to know it can be replicated to this degree.

[Look around. Shiney~]

So you... wanted to place me in a hospital room? You're lucky this can be changed, Sherlock, I'm not offering up my space to be your new lab area.

[Throws a look at Sherlock through the beakers as they pace around the room. Suddenly the harsh words 'you machine' shudder through his memory and he freezes, staring down at some sort of experiment set up that Sherlock likely wanted to continue in some corner of his overworking mind. He bites his lip. That was the last thing he'd ever said to the detective before his suicide....]

[Sherlock peeks at some equipment. Close to the stuff from home but still just an imitation. A man of details, he can tell the differences. It's still strikingly similar to the normal observer.

They'd first met in this room. Perhaps that was why he felt like returning. Sherlock looks over at John, finding him quiet.]

Are you alright?

[John was lost in his thoughts, and the way Sherlock's low voice echoed in the room made him flinch back to reality.]

Huh? ...Oh, yes, fine. Just, you know, memories... this place...

Edited 2012-03-08 06:32 (UTC)

Mm. Yes. Mike Stanton just there, you, your cane, there. Molly. Jim from IT.

[Really, the more he thinks about it, this is perhaps the most important room in his life...]

I like this room.

[When Sherlock started listing all them off like that, John is rather surprised by the amount of things that took place in this room. The memories weren't always pleasant--unknowingly meeting your arch enemy for instance--but they were all quite important...]

...Yeah, I do too.

[He gnaws on his lower lip a moment, then clears his throat.]

You know, Sherlock... What I said... you know, the last time we were...

After the transparent lie about Mrs. Hudson being mortally wounded? You were obviously too stunned to think clearly. You weren't thinking, reaction based thought and motion. Really, John, we were in a hospital. They'd bring her to you.

[He smiles at him, though. John just cares a lot.]

Doesn't make you an idiot. Just... gullible.

[After all, he didn't try pointing that out at the time to keep him there.]

[John leans his hands on the table, pursing his mouth as Sherlock deduces him as easily as always. He glances over in time to catch Sherlock smiling at him, and something catches in his chest.]

Still. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it.

You're worried about that? We call each other names all the time; it's called banter.

[He pauses for a minute before pulling a face at his own stupidity. He shifts his weight a bit uncertain, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, unintentionally ruffling his curls.]

John... It didn't attribute to anything. At all. Not even remotely a factor.

[John doesn't breath for a minute. Finally he licks his lips and shoves his hands into his pant pockets.]

...Okay... Right. Of course... I knew, I knew that, I was just...

[The floor is suddenly very interesting. ]

Good.

[Sherlock finds the ceiling equally interesting.]

Well, as we can both plainly see, this won't do for a bedroom. Try again, shall we? You do it this time; I can't be bothered.

[He clears his throat, nodding and making his way towards the door. With a lingering glance around, he waits for Sherlock to join him in the hall and then closes the door. John pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to imagine what the room will be like as he twists the handle and opens the door.

It's a decent sized room, a small studio. His bed from Baker Street is there (though it looks much newer and more comfortable then his, with new bedding too), as is his desk, but there's now also a small sitting area with a table, a counter, a small kitchenette area... The floors are hardwood, but different from their flat, and John can vaguely recall it and other parts of the room from a cottage his grandparents had owned years ago. It was neat, and despite no outright indication it had a military air to it; organization. It's all overwhelmingly comforting and familiar, but never things he'd imagined together. The doctor is struck speechless by it.]

[Sherlock walks in. Like he owns it. May as well. He pokes around at everything, spinning in circles to get the full 360 on the place. He nods a few times. Not what he expected and yet so very John.]

Much improved. You've got a handle on the magic bit then. Closets work the same way: think about it, open the door, tada~. It's a fascinating way to pass an afternoon.

[He leans against the desk.]

Welcome to your new home, I suppose.

[John watches the other circle, approving of the space, and feels himself flush slightly, just around the ears, for no reason he could figure.]

Handle? No, not really... I just mimicked what I saw you do. Though it doesn't seem to require much effort.

[He makes his way over to the desk, opening the drawer and finding his gun inside. Taking it out, the doctor checked the chamber before setting it on his desk. It was nice to know he'd have it on hand in case it was needed.]

...You have our sitting room, I'm still claiming ownership of my chair, you know.

[He's teasing. It's his way of letting Sherlock know he's welcome in here as well, something he didn't offer before back at Baker St, but the wall between their rooms seems quite thick at this point. Especially with Sherlock staying in a place the essentially shared and occupied together for a majority of their down time.]

Edited 2012-03-09 01:08 (UTC)

You may have your chair. It's been empty for a while now.

[He struts to the door.]

Dinner then back to my place for drinks and evening entertainment?

Wouldn't miss it.

[Can't resist beaming a little after the detective.]

Edited 2012-03-09 01:39 (UTC)

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[Video] Entry 001

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