[Closed] He had it comin'...

[thevictoriandetective]

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.

Comments

[osteothropy]

It's like playing fetch. As soon as Sherlock has leaped from the tree, the two dogs that haven't dazed themselves are going after him, barking in their weird skeleton way. When Sherlock hits the leaves they will both be on top of him almost instantly, dropping their weight onto him in an attempt to pin him down.

They aren't mauling him, luckily enough, but that won't keep one of them from putting their jaw around his arm or shoulder to keep him put, given the opportunity.

[thevictoriandetective]

Before he can even pick himself up, he feels the weight and the creepy barking unnerves him slightly, reminding him of that old case with the Hound. He curses and struggles but he's not stupid--he's in a bad spot and knows it.

Not wanting to risk the wrath of the creatures that were oddly holding him down and not...attacking further...

"You belong to someone or something," he deduced.

[osteothropy]

"Rroo roo roooh," the one on his legs says, yawning and flopping down onto his body fully, seemingly prepared to take a nap here if Sherlock isn't going to give them further problems. Their leader will be here soon, anyway.

The other one keeps its jaw clamped on Sherlock's arm, hard enough to keep it still but not enough to pierce his skin. They've definitely been trained by someone, that's for sure.

From the bushes, the third one yowls unhappily, stumbling out of the trees. There's a thin crack leading from its eye socket down to its jaw.

[thevictoriandetective]

"Seriously?" Sherlock glared at the one that was getting too comfortable. He tugged his arm slightly but didn't want to risk it getting chopped up, so he stilled moments later.

"You're hurt," he says to the moaning one, frowning. As much as he didn't like most people he had a soft spot for dogs, even bone canine things that were currently trying to hold him.

[osteothropy]

"Wow, that's two for two," Sans drawls as he steps out of the trees, his left eye glowing particularly bright in the shade. "You really are a detective."

The two dogs lying on Sherlock start beating their tails enthusiastically, making soft barking sounds as their owner arrives. The cracked one makes a pathetic dog whine, crawling over to Sans, clearly looking for sympathy. Sans puts a hand on the dog's head, looking at the crack. Not too bad.

"What'd you do, pal?" he says to the dog. "Pretty sure this dummy didn't break your face with his fists."

[thevictoriandetective]

Annnnd there was the owner who was also...he didn't even care at this point. He'd resigned himself to the oddities of this place.

"Obviously," he muttered. He glared at the bony tails and raised his voice. "If you don't mind, could you call off your pets? I have someplace to be."

[osteothropy]

"If that someplace is the Ringmaster's office, then sure," Sans says, patting Roman reassuring and then crouching down at Sherlock's side to talk. "I'd ask you what you were doing out here, but the big bag of supplies makes it kind of obvious."

He winks his right eye.

"You're kind of ruining my day a bit here, bud. You've only been on my squad for a week and you're already making me chase you down."

[thevictoriandetective]

Sherlock would have paled if he wasn't covered in scales. But he coughed and tried to play it off.

"That's circumstancial evidence. You can't prove anything."

It was a weak argument at best. And he knew it. He considered running but...he wasn't going to get far.

"Look, I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement...I can pay your way, to ignore all this..."

[osteothropy]

Sans stares at him for a few moments, and his expression is almost impossible to read. And then, he laughs. That's it.

Sans just flat out laughs at him, a hissing snicker that leads into a wheezing guffaw. As if looking to participate, all of the dogs start howling/barking at the same time, no matter how close to Sherlock's ears they are.

[thevictoriandetective]

Sherlock is not amused, and his look gets darker and more foul as they all laugh--honestly, right next to his ears!?

"So that's a no, then?" he said irritably. "It's too bad. My brother will hear of this when I get back to London. Kidnapping is a serious charge. You're all going to be arrested and hunted down by MI6,"

[osteothropy]

"What was London again? I think I forgot. Some kind of moon colony, right?" Sans asks, when he's finished laughing, looking just as unimpressed, beneath a thick veneer of shit eating grin. "I assure you, pal... I could eat your brother for breakfast. Literally."

He stands up, and fished out his walkie talkie.

"I got the perp. You ready for him?"

From the other side is very clearly the Ringmaster's voice.

"Bring him in."

[thevictoriandetective]

What? Was he serious? He was just joking wasn't he?

"London. You know, London? And quite honestly my brother would probably eat you first, he's got a massive appetite..." Yes, even in dire straits, he did just take a potshot at poor Mycroft, who actually probably was doing very well on his diet and most certainly would not eat... whatever he was.

"You really don't have to bring me in," Sherlock added hastily when he heard the voice. "I can make it worth your while!"

[osteothropy]

Sans shuts off his walkie talkie, staying where he is. He doesn't even look at Sherlock when he asks.

"And how's that?"

[thevictoriandetective]

"I'll owe you a favor? I could get you money from London," he added.

Your negotiating skills were very poor, Sherlock, he chided himself. He blamed panic.

[osteothropy]

"Oh yeah? Well, get this..."

He casts Sherlock a dagger glance from the side, the lights vanishing from his sockets.

"You're not in London anymore."

And with that he teleports all of them into the Ringmaster's tent. As soon as they've arrived, the dogs are quick to hop off of Sherlock, circling around Sans for attention.

The Ringmaster is seated at what probably qualifies as her desk.

"He's all yours, boss," Sans says, with a definite note of bitterness.

[thevictoriandetective]

Ohhhhhkay.

Sherlock blinked when he was suddenly in the "office."

"You wouldn't last three seconds in London," he sneered under his breath. A little too late, but ah well. He glared at the Ringmaster, with the air of a sullen, sulky child that got caught doing something bad.