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)
lostcarnival2016-11-27 12:14 am
thevictoriandetective) wrote in lostcarnival2016-11-27 12:14 am
Entry tags:
The Adventures of a Consulting Detective [OPEN]
Who: Sherlock Holmes and YOU
What: Getting used to this place...
When: Soon after he makes contract to just before the next performance
Where: Carnival Grounds
Warnings: None
A. If you eliminate the impossible...
Sherlock Holmes did not believe in magic, or anything remotely fantastical or out of this world.
Which was why he was having a very difficult time with the existence of the Carnival itself, the appearance of some of the denizens which he had chalked up to clever costuming, and the mere fact that he had somehow gotten himself tangled up in all of this and was now indebted to them and forced to work for a year and one day.
He kept repeating himself that this wasn't real, that this was just a mad dream.
However dreams didn't last this long or have enough logical consistency to mimic the real world for this long.
Sherlock wandered the grounds like a wraith, occasionally bursting out with angry deductions at any poor person that crossed his path.
B. ...whatever remains, however improbable...
Sherlock often deleted information deemed irrelevant or useless from his mind. He may have been told already at some point and forgotten it. Regardless, it was quite a shock to him when he was blearily grabbing a bite to eat and walking from his trailer to start his day, he bit down hard and yelped in surprise when he felt something painful jabbing in his lip.
Confused, he ran over to the nearest window and peered at what he'd bitten. No, it wasn't in his food. His eyes widened when he saw that his canines--both on the top of his mouth and the bottom--ended in sharp points and extended further than they should. Than any human's should.
Was...was he just seeing things?! He ran his tongue over the top and--ah. Yes, that was certainly real.
"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON!?"
C. ...must be the truth!
Patrol.
Well, it did sound like something fairly 'not boring', and would be right up his alley.
Didn't mean he was happy about it. He didn't like to be forced to do anything against his will.
Still, if this was truly the only way out, if he really had to compete his contract, then he'd have to.
Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets as he began his patrol.
D. Or something like that.
He'd be warned against trying to escape the Carnival, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to not try and see how far he could get.
Sherlock made sure that no one was following him, and he tried running into the woods that surrounded the Carnival.
What: Getting used to this place...
When: Soon after he makes contract to just before the next performance
Where: Carnival Grounds
Warnings: None
A. If you eliminate the impossible...
Sherlock Holmes did not believe in magic, or anything remotely fantastical or out of this world.
Which was why he was having a very difficult time with the existence of the Carnival itself, the appearance of some of the denizens which he had chalked up to clever costuming, and the mere fact that he had somehow gotten himself tangled up in all of this and was now indebted to them and forced to work for a year and one day.
He kept repeating himself that this wasn't real, that this was just a mad dream.
However dreams didn't last this long or have enough logical consistency to mimic the real world for this long.
Sherlock wandered the grounds like a wraith, occasionally bursting out with angry deductions at any poor person that crossed his path.
B. ...whatever remains, however improbable...
Sherlock often deleted information deemed irrelevant or useless from his mind. He may have been told already at some point and forgotten it. Regardless, it was quite a shock to him when he was blearily grabbing a bite to eat and walking from his trailer to start his day, he bit down hard and yelped in surprise when he felt something painful jabbing in his lip.
Confused, he ran over to the nearest window and peered at what he'd bitten. No, it wasn't in his food. His eyes widened when he saw that his canines--both on the top of his mouth and the bottom--ended in sharp points and extended further than they should. Than any human's should.
Was...was he just seeing things?! He ran his tongue over the top and--ah. Yes, that was certainly real.
"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON!?"
C. ...must be the truth!
Patrol.
Well, it did sound like something fairly 'not boring', and would be right up his alley.
Didn't mean he was happy about it. He didn't like to be forced to do anything against his will.
Still, if this was truly the only way out, if he really had to compete his contract, then he'd have to.
Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets as he began his patrol.
D. Or something like that.
He'd be warned against trying to escape the Carnival, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to not try and see how far he could get.
Sherlock made sure that no one was following him, and he tried running into the woods that surrounded the Carnival.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He really didn't want to be a newt.
"Maybe," he muttered. A half-shrug.