In a new light

[thevictoriandetective]

Who: Sherlock and OPEN
What: New changes and video game munchies
When: Very late Day 97
Where: Cookhouse
Warnings: Mentions of drugs, suicide.



Dying made one hungry.

Sherlock was prone to being over dramatic, and would gladly tell anyone who inquired that yes, he was killed three times in the game and yes, for a second there he really thought he was going to end up nullified or actually dead. Being quite pleased that he wasn't a digital slug or dead, he found himself famished and in the mood for something dreadfully unhealthy and/or sweet.

Toby was exhausted and fell asleep back at the trailer (or was mad at him for thinking he really did die), so Sherlock was alone when he went to the Cookhouse.

He went to grab a basket of chips (fries) and a milkshake when it hit him. He'd noticed something strange with his vision when he came back, seeing faint blotches like if he'd looked in the sun for too long or something, but he assumed it had something to do with being in the game, some lingering side effect. He would only be worried if it remained for any length of time. What he didn't expect was a blast of orange and red when he looked into the kitchen.

He shut his eyes immediately, confused, and was shocked that he could still see it. He could see shapes of people, registering as different shades of red and orange, fading to yellow and green. The walls only mitigated some of it, he could see through them, too. It extended nearly as far as his natural vision, but faded into blank nothingness further on. It was heat. Obviously. He couldn't exactly see objects that didn't give off heat. But any heat residue left, was visible, like quickly fading handprints.

"Fascinating," he muttered, opening his eyes again. The effect was fainter coupled with his ordinary vision, giving a slight glow to anything that gave off heat. It was disorienting and off-putting and, quite frankly, neat.

Comments

[sweatsthesmallstuff]

Will frowned. "Actually, they were making fun of the fact that I was trying to be Sherlock Holmes." A subtle but important difference. The first one implied that Sherlock Holmes was someone to dislike, and the second that he was someone no one could aspire to be because he was way smarter than any normal person.

He looked away a little, sorry his knee-jerk reaction brought them to this. He'd clearly insulted the other man deeply. "Look, it's not... you've been here too long, I can't get anything from the way you look, other than..."

He snuck a glance back at the man, trying to take in all the clues he can. He couldn't quite resist the challenge, despite his growing regrets. "Well, your coat was obviously given to you by someone with a decent amount of money. Probably not you, or you'd have bought a new one. Family? You wouldn't find something like that in a thrift store. What, did you have a falling out with your mom or brother or something, that's why you didn't ask for a new one when this one got damaged?"

[thevictoriandetective]

Sherlock was staring intently at him at the same time, deducing what he could, but that was real regret he'd sensed in his tone and in his body language. Sherlock actually had a contradictory low self-worth, despite his arrogance. All his self-worth was tied up in his intellect, and he was often proven wrong or tricked by people cleverer than him. He'd been made fun of by Scotland Yard enough that in his world it could easily be an insult as much as a compliment.

"Family, yes," he wondered just how similar were these books and this James Watson to his life. Will said brother, did Mycroft exist somehow too? "I have other coats, but this was my first."

Sherlock wasn't insulted by the fact Will couldn't read the rest of him otherwise, because of what he looked like. That would take study and serious observation.

"Sentiment," he said, his tone sounding less abrasive, now that Zimmerman wasn't challenging him. "You didn't take sentimental value into account."

[sweatsthesmallstuff]

Despite recognizing Sherlock's name, and assuming that Doyle probably got some things right, Will isn't actually relying on the books to tell him much. He'll actually be surprised at how factual they are. He's more thinking this Sherlock is a modern version of James, and despite how much he respected and looked up to the man he really didn't know him that well.

"Ah... yeah. I don't always take everything into account." Like the passage of time, or sentiment apparently. Will shifts a little, leaning forward so he can rest his wrists on the table. "Look... I can kind of be a dick sometimes, so... I'm sorry about that. It wasn't fair of me to say any of that, I guess you just... surprised me."