William Sherlock Scott Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thevictoriandetective) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2016-12-19 12:12 pm
thevictoriandetective) wrote in lostcarnival2016-12-19 12:12 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] He had it comin'...
Who: Sherlock, the Warden, and the Ringmaster
What: In which Sherlock tries to escape the Carnival
Where: The woods
When: Not too long after his latest change
Sherlock had enough.
He has enough of this stupid Carnival, of being in 'debt', of working a job, of living in a trailer with a giant fuzzy beast, and of being green and covered in scales.
Most of all, he was done with magic.
He was going back home where physics obeyed laws and people didn't suddenly grow moss or leaves or fur or wings and things were predictable--
Sherlock had a big canvas bag of supplies and food on his back as he trudged through the woods, his coat collar up and his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He was also tired of being cold. Stupid scales. He looked ridiculous. Maybe that's what finally set him off. It was undeniable proof that he was trapped here and yes, maybe he was a little vain but the mere fact he was basically kidnapped, in his opinion, was intolerable. He didn't care if he owed anyone anything. He wasn't going to stay here against his will any longer.
Someone had told him that you couldn't escape through the woods, that they'd just loop into themselves and he'd be back where he started, but he'd yet to test that theory fully. There had to be some way out. He'd gotten in, there was a way out. Maybe he'd have to wait until they got to their next stop. That was fine with him, he'd just camp out in the woods hidden until then.
What: In which Sherlock tries to escape the Carnival
Where: The woods
When: Not too long after his latest change
Sherlock had enough.
He has enough of this stupid Carnival, of being in 'debt', of working a job, of living in a trailer with a giant fuzzy beast, and of being green and covered in scales.
Most of all, he was done with magic.
He was going back home where physics obeyed laws and people didn't suddenly grow moss or leaves or fur or wings and things were predictable--
Sherlock had a big canvas bag of supplies and food on his back as he trudged through the woods, his coat collar up and his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He was also tired of being cold. Stupid scales. He looked ridiculous. Maybe that's what finally set him off. It was undeniable proof that he was trapped here and yes, maybe he was a little vain but the mere fact he was basically kidnapped, in his opinion, was intolerable. He didn't care if he owed anyone anything. He wasn't going to stay here against his will any longer.
Someone had told him that you couldn't escape through the woods, that they'd just loop into themselves and he'd be back where he started, but he'd yet to test that theory fully. There had to be some way out. He'd gotten in, there was a way out. Maybe he'd have to wait until they got to their next stop. That was fine with him, he'd just camp out in the woods hidden until then.