lostcarnival | [OPEN] Sher-meleon

Who: Sherlock and you!
What: In which Sherlock gets turned into a chameleon for running away.
Where: Here and there
When: D33-D39

A. I'm not anyone's pet! (Sherlock's and Gon's Trailer)

There was a very colorful, small lizard sitting angrily on top of a table in the trailer. How could a chameleon be sitting angrily?

Yet somehow, it was.

Sherlock was not happy, and that was putting it lightly.

It had taken him an age to even get over here. Slow, methodical climbing and steps. For a man as impatient as he, it was nothing less than sheer agony. Not to mention the horror he was slowly trying to and failing to get over. He tried to run away from the Carnival, yes, but this-this in return for...this was impossible, improbable, and yet it happened. He wasn't even the least bit human save for his mind. And even that was filled with weird instincts.

He was a lizard. He thought he was upset before about his scales but this was a million, billion times worse. He was just this small little thing with weird eyes and a weird tail and--oh no.

Before he could stop himself his tongue shot out and snatched a fly out of midair. It crunched in his mouth a millisecond later. Worst of all, it tasted great to him.

AAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHH--

B. Lunchtime

There was a small greenish, red, and yellow chameleon slowly changing colors and sitting on top of a ladle next to the food for everyone.

Just staring, occasionally looking with one independent eye, then another. Every so often his tongue would shoot out and grab a fly.

He really liked flies okay?

C. I'm a man, blast it!

It was painstaking, but he did it. It literally took him several hours and a nap. But he did it. A pen in his mouth and a piece of paper. He began dragging the paper through the Carnival, wishing to show it to anyone who met him.

The note said:

I am Sherlock Holmes. I am not an ordinary chameleon. Please help.

PS. Do not pet me. I will bite.

D. Wildcard! Feel free to start any situation!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Sorry, nope. Had two complaints about hygiene and one inquiry about if you were an entree." The ladle is lifted out of the dressing, and Sher-meleon is given another chance at climbing off onto Jimmy.

"I'm all for getting you a meal, but A: Nobody wants... wait. It's chameleons that have the eyes and the colors. Nobody wants chameleon butt in their salad dressing, sorry. B: God only knows what you have and you're not spreading it to the food, and C: I don't think either of us wants you to get eaten." As he's talking, he's giving Sher-meleon a chance to move somewhere safer. "If you want, I can move you to someplace that doesn't involve sitting on the utensils, but you're not sitting on the salad bar."

Edited 2017-01-05 04:34 (UTC)

Well. Being eaten would put a damper on things.

With his tiny sideways claws, he slowly climbed off of the ladle and onto Jimmy.

Chameleon butt? Right, he was quite offended now. He turned a rude shade of orange and purple and brown before going to an outright annoyed black and blue. I am so not diseased!

Jimmy eyes off the Sher-meleon when he breaks out into artistic disgruntledness, not quite sure how to take it. "You do have a number of acceptable dining options, though." He shifts the tub around to carry it more easily, and walks.

"There's the broom over by the soda taps, but you're probably going to be getting mostly wasps and yellowjackets. I wouldn't weigh your odds of not getting stung, honestly." He's taking this far more seriously than he should, but he's been up too long and is starting to get a little weird.

"The highchairs are always a popular option, and one can be placed by any garbage can for your dining convenience.... Or you can join me as I head back to the kitchens, for a quick refreshing steam bath. To be enjoyed while I try to avoid pondering just how many hours I've been awake right now."

There was a strangely intelligent huffy sigh from the chameleon, with an equally human-like roll of his big bulging eyes. Though to be honest he could do with a little wasp snack, he rather didn't like them that much. He much preferred honeybees.

Sherlock gave a shrug, eyeing Jimmy to see if he could figure out that he wasn't an ordinary lizard.

"What? We try to accommodate all..." Jimmy trails off and looks at the chameleon again. ".... Sherlock? It is you, right? I'm not just having a weird reaction to the oven cleaner?"

A slightly frantic nod. Yep, it was him. He pointed a claw to himself and waved another free claw towards the vague direction of the ringmaster's rent.

Not a bad deduction, you're doing far better than most of the lunkheads I've encountered so far.

Jimmy follows the direction of Sher-meleon's leg waving, and can pick up the gist of it. "Looks like everything from the other day wasn't done yet, huh?" He offers Sherlock a spot on his shoulder before going back to the dirty dishes.

"Is there anyplace you'd like me to... erm... Put you? Give you a lift?" And actually trying to figure out conversation options gives him another headache. "Okay. I don't know how much head movement you've actually got now, so if you can't nod... Uhm.. Blue for yes and that orangey-red for now? If you can control the color changes?" And Jimmy would like to take 'Conversations I never thought I would have' for $1000, Alex.

Sherlock climbs slowly towards his shoulder and settles on, his prehensile tail dipping down and trying to get an anchor on his clothes. Apparently his chameleon side thought he was climbing a tree.

There's a shrugging sort of hand movement. He didn't really care right now, he was bored and there were plenty of flies here. There was only so much a chameleon could do all day and apparently eating and hunting was pretty much it.

Control the colors? He'd not really tried nor cared to, but it seemed to be tied in with his emotions.

After a bit of frantic random colors, he settled on that blue.

"Well, that's something, right?" Yeah, it's not much. And Sherlock is still a little technicolor lizard, but being able to talk (and keep him off someone's dinner plate) was a start. "And if you'd like, you can stay by the buffet, but you can't sit on it. If you're hungry? Or you could hang out while I make the rounds." Jimmy trails off as he looks over at Sherlock.

".... so to speak."

There's a shrug. He seemed to have settled on Jimmy's shoulder quite comfortably, so he was probably going to stay there for awhile.

That and it took him ages to get anywhere so it was nice to be on something that moved more than a snail's pace.

Honestly, if that was not more torturous than not being able to speak...

"Okay. I've still got rounds to make, so if you see something you want, or someplace you get dropped off at, just give the shirt a tug." No idea if he's hungry, tired, or just in a general state of exasperated frustration. Although, with Sherlock, Jimmy's putting odds on the last.

"Did you get a time frame for how long you're going to be a chameleon?"

[OPEN] Sher-meleon

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