Just have to find another place to go

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

[Sherlock has decided that he likes whatever this place is - a replication of his apartment, yes, but it has just the right mix of quiet and chaos going on in the background that he can get some proper thinking done. And God knows he has a lot of thinking to do right now.

He sits on one end of the couch, hands together and resting beneath his chin, eyes closed. The observant will notice just how tense he is, as if he's expecting something to happen. The ridiculously observant may notice the small spots on the left side of his collar - dried blood stains, there for days at least. And those with a sort of "sixth sense" or whatever for odd things? Well... maybe you can figure it out.

He just sits, unmoving, for now. How long can a person keep this up, exactly...?]


((OoC: BBC'S Sherlock, AU'd! Wide open post, do feel free to bother him. He needs it.))

Comments

[fearyourmind.livejournal.com]

... That's rather anticlimactic.

[seesbattlefield.livejournal.com]

Four--Four days? That isn't right, Sherlock. [he moves aside some magazines on the table and has a seat on it across from him] You haven't been missing at all. Or I haven't. Neither of us has!

[starts peering at Sherlock's face] Maybe you just hit your head, or you passed out. You have had something to eat, haven't you?

[there are any number of medical ailments that he really doesn't want to think could be the cause of such a great amount of time right now. then again...he can't explain the old experiment set-up away with the same exact reasoning. but that's something he'll have to think on once he's figured out what's wrong with Sherlock. he reaches for Sherlock's hand, aiming to check his pulse rate.]

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

I have been missing. [Said with a slight frown.] And I haven't hit my head. That would be too easy.

[Yeah, about that whole pulse thing... Sherlock knows what John intends to do, and he sits back again and casually folds his arms across his chest like it's what he intended to do anyway.]

It has been four days, John, but you came in behaving as though you'd only just stepped out to the grocery and I'd been here the whole time. Strange, isn't it? I've no explanation for that yet.

[seesbattlefield.livejournal.com]

[he frowns at Sherlock, mostly for taking his hand away, but partially because this odd sort of thing would happen around him, wouldn't it?]

That's exactly what happened. I left--[he pauses, thinking]--couldn't have been more than an hour ago, and you were in here reading a magazine.

Sherlock, what happened to you, then? You said you were missing, and I would have noticed that.

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

Am missing. This isn't our flat.

[But the question makes him frown - and was that a slight twitch? He looks off to the side.]

I was attacked. Strangest thing, actually. I haven't been back since.

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

[Mycroft stands just inside the door, umbrella in hand, and frowns.]

What have you done now?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

[Ignoring the question/accusation!]

Record timing. I only deleted your text two and a half minutes ago.

[seesbattlefield.livejournal.com]

[he opens then closes his mouth] Hold on, you were--when--[he covers his eyes with one hand]--no, you said four days ago. But you seem all right physically. [yet the way Sherlock looked when he came in...] How was it strange?

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

[He waits a moment, as if that might entice Sherlock to respond properly.]

Really, Sherlock. [A whatever-shall-I-do-with-you? headshake. He steps forward, eyes on his brother.] I haven't texted you this morning, so it's just as well. What is this place?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

No weapons, just brute strength. And teeth. You don't see much of that.

[Yes, because that was the only thing strange. Right, Sherlock. He can't decide if he should be honest, use discretion, or just continue to dodge. If the whole ordeal has turned his world upside down, what would it do to John...?]

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

[A pause. That gets him to open his eyes. He even quirks an eyebrow.]

You texted me two and a half minutes ago. I didn't read it. And this place is a brilliantly rendered model of my flat. My compliments to the creator.

What are you doing here?

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

I didn't, and of course you didn't read it. [Mycroft settles into the chair, still watching Sherlock.] How long had you been here before the text?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

[Really do not want to deal with this right now...]

Forty-six minutes. I asked a question first.

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

Sitting. I hadn't intended to be here at all.

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

I hadn't either. Where did you intend to be?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

As was yours. Does anyone come here after some grand struggle?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

It's in your tone.

[Now his hand is unconsciously going toward his neck, but he pulls it away again when he feels the scar and runs it through his hair instead.]

This wasn't even real until four days ago. Just stories.

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

My office. You?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

[A pause.] Nowhere specific.

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

[There's something wrong with that response. Mycroft's eyes narrow, and he takes a closer look, focusing on the blood stains.]

What happened?

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

Not that it's stopped you before, but it's none of your concern.

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

I can hardly trust you with the responsibility. How long have you been away from Baker Street? [As far as Mycroft knows, he hasn't been, but Sherlock in person is always more reliable than what he knows from surveillance — in physical appearance, at least.]

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

Four days.

[He hunches forward, rubbing at his face with both hands.]

[constantworry.livejournal.com]

[He doesn't want to ask (and his expression shows it), but it has some slight chance of resulting in an answer.]

Why? You've been getting along so well with your Doctor Watson.

[bloodydeduction.livejournal.com]

[And he doesn't want to answer, so he won't.]

It has nothing to do with him.