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)
lostcarnival2017-02-16 07:16 am
thevictoriandetective) wrote in lostcarnival2017-02-16 07:16 am
Entry tags:
Sherly's back
Who: Sherlock and you
Where: Here, there, everywhere
When: D60/right before they get to the celebration
What: Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock
Warnings: BBC Sherlock Season 4 spoilers
He was just running through Rathbone Place and then...and then he was here. He was back.
The memories came rushing back, hitting him so hard he had to stop...he looked down at his hands, covered in green scales. No...it wasn't fair! It wasn't fair, he was home...it wasn't fair!
His debt wasn't paid in full yet. She'd just sent him home to...he frowned as he sighed and began to walk further into the Carnival. Had she known what would happen to him? The past year...Mary, John...Eurus...
The one hope that was he...he might be able to go back. Like Jimmy said. Change things. He bit his forked tongue. It would cost him if he tried. Could he bargain for such? That would make him have to stay here longer than a year.
But if he could save John and bring Rosie's mother back...
He would do anything.
*****
A. Trailer
Sherlock wandered back to his trailer, unsure of how long he'd been gone. It was difficult to tell, but at least they weren't underwater anymore.
"Gon?" he opened the door, wondering if he was in. Since he'd arrived, he noticed that his nails were becoming steadily longer and pointier. He scowled, holding a hand up to the light. Blast, more changes. Supposed that was inevitable, especially since he'd been gone.
Still. A look of sadness crossed his face. He wasn't going to be playing violin anytime soon.
Despite his reptilian facial features he seemed...different. More open, perhaps? The emotion on his face was more...exposed, maybe. He wasn't hiding it as much as before.
B. Cookhouse
Sherlock wandered into the cookhouse after some time, he'd taken a walk to sort through things and see if anything much has changed. It had been a year for him, but it didn't seem long at all, here. Weird. He remembered fairy tales vaguely, about strange time differences...but he much preferred pirate stories as a child.
A sad sort of smirk as he went to go grab a plate of food.
His new claws clinked against the plates, his blue eyes had changed too, becoming slitted, like a snake's. A slew of changes had hit him all at once since he'd arrived, the strangest included the rather odd disappearance of his ears. Lizards and snakes didn't have mammalian-type ears. Luckily it was mostly hidden by his hair but it was disconcerting. He could still hear, of course, it just felt...different. Hard to put his finger on.
Where: Here, there, everywhere
When: D60/right before they get to the celebration
What: Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock
Warnings: BBC Sherlock Season 4 spoilers
He was just running through Rathbone Place and then...and then he was here. He was back.
The memories came rushing back, hitting him so hard he had to stop...he looked down at his hands, covered in green scales. No...it wasn't fair! It wasn't fair, he was home...it wasn't fair!
His debt wasn't paid in full yet. She'd just sent him home to...he frowned as he sighed and began to walk further into the Carnival. Had she known what would happen to him? The past year...Mary, John...Eurus...
The one hope that was he...he might be able to go back. Like Jimmy said. Change things. He bit his forked tongue. It would cost him if he tried. Could he bargain for such? That would make him have to stay here longer than a year.
But if he could save John and bring Rosie's mother back...
He would do anything.
*****
A. Trailer
Sherlock wandered back to his trailer, unsure of how long he'd been gone. It was difficult to tell, but at least they weren't underwater anymore.
"Gon?" he opened the door, wondering if he was in. Since he'd arrived, he noticed that his nails were becoming steadily longer and pointier. He scowled, holding a hand up to the light. Blast, more changes. Supposed that was inevitable, especially since he'd been gone.
Still. A look of sadness crossed his face. He wasn't going to be playing violin anytime soon.
Despite his reptilian facial features he seemed...different. More open, perhaps? The emotion on his face was more...exposed, maybe. He wasn't hiding it as much as before.
B. Cookhouse
Sherlock wandered into the cookhouse after some time, he'd taken a walk to sort through things and see if anything much has changed. It had been a year for him, but it didn't seem long at all, here. Weird. He remembered fairy tales vaguely, about strange time differences...but he much preferred pirate stories as a child.
A sad sort of smirk as he went to go grab a plate of food.
His new claws clinked against the plates, his blue eyes had changed too, becoming slitted, like a snake's. A slew of changes had hit him all at once since he'd arrived, the strangest included the rather odd disappearance of his ears. Lizards and snakes didn't have mammalian-type ears. Luckily it was mostly hidden by his hair but it was disconcerting. He could still hear, of course, it just felt...different. Hard to put his finger on.
B!
"It's good to see you again! You went quiet for a while, I'd thought something had happened!" Especially with Sherlock's propensity for getting into trouble, into places where he probably shouldn't be, or just under the skin of the people in charge. Jimmy trails off as he takes in the new changes. "I don't want to say welcome back, because, well, it's here. But it's good to see you're okay."
no subject
"Well, I'm not dead, or a lizard--a tiny lizard, at least," said Sherlock. He actually smiled at him.
There was definitely something different. But a good kind of different.
"Right, well...the sentiment is appreciated, at least."
no subject
His eyes sweep over Sherlock again, taking in the new additions and wondering if they might need to set up more raw dining options.
no subject
"In a way," his smile faltered, his face falling somewhat. "Can I...ah, talk to you? When you're free, of course."
no subject
He slips off to warn the rest of the kitchen staff that he's taking a lunch break, and comes back with a bottle of water and a sandwich on a tray. Jimmy slips into the seat opposite Sherlock's and looks at him, concerned. "Okay... What's up?"
no subject
"Ah. Yes, well," he wasn't quite sure how to begin, but there wasn't a way around it. "So, I was thinking about what you told me...before. I mean. How the Ringmaster can drop you off at a time before something bad happened."
Despite his reptilian eyes, there was definite sorrow there. Something bad had happened in his time away.
"Is that for certain at all, that she can do this?"
no subject
"I asked about it, but she wouldn't let me sign another one until this contract was up. She seemed pretty certain that she could do it, though. At least long enough for me to go back and punch myself in the face." A bite of sandwich that gives Jimmy time to put his thoughts a little more clearly in order.
"Basically, from what I gathered, and I've got a sneaking suspicion that I am not nearly smart enough to wrap my brain around the finer details, is that if I go back and stay there, then there's two of me and things get really.... Messy, was the word I think she used." Jimmy glances up at Sherlock, wondering what happened while he was gone to kick off this new interest in time travel. "But being able to go back for five or ten minutes to give yourself a message, or in my case, punch yourself in the face, that should be okay."
no subject
He placed his fork down and pressed his fingertips together under his chin, the 'thinking pose' he did often (though he had to mind the claws now). He seemed a bit lost in thought after Jimmy explained. So there was no guaranteed re-do, it was only a chance for one.
And if he knew himself, he wouldn't believe that it was really a message from his future self.
"The appointment in Sammara," the detective muttered, that pained look in his eyes again. He shook his head, as if he was clearing it.
"Did she say anything about paradoxes? Will it change our perception after it's done, will our personal pasts change immediately?"
no subject
"I have no idea. I..... didn't really think to ask. Given everything, I'd either forget everything or go back to being a diagnosed schizophrenic." A small shrug before he takes a bite of sandwich. There's a 'mrf' as something occurs to him mid-chew and he swallows before continuing. "What about you? Did you go back? What happened? Did you remember any of it?"
no subject
His posture immediately shifted when Jimmy asked. His eyes widened, clearly unsure. Should he tell him? There really wasn't any reason why not. This was the Carnival after all, and Ella said that expressing his thoughts on what he'd been through was healthy.
That's right.
Sherlock Holmes had been to therapy.
Voluntarily.
"I remember," he said, slightly stiffly. "I was gone for about a year, didn't remember any of this place."
A sardonic chuckle.
no subject
"If I don't remember, then.... I don't know what would happen. Would I remember everything up to the Carnival, and wonder why I'm not in the water with the angel?" A sigh, and Jimmy leans back a little in the chair, a little uncomfortable at the line of thought. "I guess I would want to remember. Just to remind myself that the doctors weren't right and this isn't a prolonged schizophrenic episode."
"But you. You didn't seem all that enthused about this before. What happened, Sherlock?"
no subject
"I..."
He didn't want to forget about any more friends.
Not after he'd finally remembered Victor.
Sherlock looked down, biting his lip. "A lot. Obviously. But it was...well, not all of it was bad. John...my best friend, John Watson, fathered a little girl. Her name is Rosie." There's a slight twinkle of light in his eyes, he did quite care about her. "That was a good thing. But..."
A pause, as if he was trying to collect himself.
"I got his wife killed."
Another pause. "Yes, he said it wasn't my fault, but that doesn't take away the fact of it wasn't for me, she would still be alive. I was...stupid, I was showing off, and Vivienne Norbury tried to shoot me. Mary...she jumped in front of the bullet. Saved my life. John hated me for some time."
He tries to keep the emotion out of his voice and sound casual. "Anyway, he wasn't doing so well. Drinking, you know? Mary left a DVD...it was a contingency plan, she's very clever--to save John from himself, I had to put myself in danger."
There's a smirk. Yeah, Sherlock would seem to view this next part quite favorably. "I went on a massive drug bender and picked a fight with a serial killer."
But then, he sobered up.
"Not long after that, I...discovered that I had a sister. A sister I didn't remember. She was--is a genius, beyond anything most people have ever seen. She had...difficulty with morality. She trapped me, John, and my brother Mycroft in this mad...game, this experiment, testing our morality, emotions, deductive reasoning. I was supposed to shoot Mycroft or John..." his voice shook. "I managed to call her bluff on that, but the game got worse. She trapped John in a well being filled with water..." his voice really shook. "And I finally remembered that...she'd killed my best friend when I was six the exact same way. I had replaced his memory with that of a dog to save myself from the trauma, and it repressed memories of her as well. Mycroft...lied to me all these years to avoid the memories from returning."
He took a deep breath, trying to rid the emotion from his voice.
"Anyway, John survived."
no subject
"I don't quite know how to respond to that, Sherlock. But thank you for telling me." It's a struggle to keep the pity off his face because god damn how do you respond to that? "It's John's wife you're wanting to save, right?" He's assuming yes, but it never hurts to double check. Jimmy can pick out a few things that would probably be worth investigating for do-overs, but Mary's death sounds like the big one.
"The first thing you're going to have to do is figure out how you want to do it. What would be the best way to get your attention. We've only got one shot at this each, and there aren't any do-overs. Time, we've got. Now we just need to figure out how to say it." He coughs once, politely. "And I don't think 'punching yourself in the face' would work as well for you as it would for me."