shinytoybox | Sherlock and Moriarty nonsense

It can't be allowed to escape again.

[His voice, shaky still had an odd, determined measure to it as Nothing There looms.

The fear, and guilt starts to ebb, as something warm fills his chest - Lestrade's voice whispering 'help' echoed in his ears. As it raises it's blade to swing, he swoops in fast, taking advantage of the opening to get behind it's reach, striking - seeming to cause damage despite his weapon's type should be something Nothing There is immune to]

...Then we're in agreement.

[That's all he'll say, as Sherlock rushes in - striking at the Abnormality without pausing, as the creature actually seems to take damage and even react in a little shock...and then, suddenly-]

'Teach me! Teach me! Help! Help me! Teach me!'

[Moriarty doesn't pay attention to it's cries, though - it's a being that relies on mimicry, after all.

He pulls back the trigger - and instead of a single normal bullet, a sharp whizz is heard, lancing through the abnormality and again causing damage despite how impossible it should be.]

'Help! Help! Help!'

[Nothing There responds with a clear bit of - panic? surprise? - as it slashes out, clumsily and messily tearing up and leaving a massive gash on the floor near Moriarty's feet.]

[It's calling that out again - his face grew hot, blood seeming to boil under him as he weaves around it's clumsy attacks, knowing full well one hit is all it will need to end either one of them.

He punches, even striking with a kick when the opening allows it, barely ducking as the wall tears from the slashes - barely registering the strange noise of Moriarty's gun]

I will not teach something that stole my friend's lives.

[Sherlock spat]

[Stole their lives...that's an interesting tidbit to learn from the man.

So he's familiar with the anomaly? Perhaps, if they manage to survive, he'll ask more about that when he can.

A few more shots - a few more of that strange noise echoes out, as Nothing There weaves and moves and tries to hit Sherlock.]

It's off balance from that weapon -

[However, it's Moriarty's attempt to guide Sherlock that is his undoing. Once he says that, Nothing There whirls, and -]

'Goodbye.'

[Slashes.]

....A...ah....

[Moriarty thuds onto the floor, feeling pain and coldness from his lower half -

Only to see said half wobble and fall over....without him, as his guts spill out from his bisected torso.]

H....Ha....

[A sickening sound - a familiar sound, of flesh being forced open, his gaze turning despite all wisdom and common sense not to, in time to see the guts spill with a sickening plop and the lower half drop.

Greyson... no - Moriarty. Then he remember - too late, in time to scream as shearing pain hits against his shoulder - then an strange, hollow throbbing, staring transfixed at Nothing There, dimly aware of his left arm in the corner of his vision]

[Despite the pain - the blood in his mouth - Moriarty still tries to aim at the Abnormality - but his shots begin to miss as pain and shock set in, hands shaking.

Nothing There looks over at the shorn off arm, seeming to tilt its head - before looking back over at Sherlock, closely examining the wound.

It seems to come to a consensus, as it lifts it's great blade arm -]

'Hello.'

[And brings it down vertically on Sherlock, just as

the world

as time

shifts-

-And then they wake up in their rooms in the dormatory.]

[What was it seeing in his wound, it is it hesitating but why? He couldn't process everything as his torso suddenly felt hot and wet and...

it's lurching - sickening, bile rising up in his mouth as -

as he jolts up in bed, owl-eyed and pale, drenched in a cold sweat. He stumbles, hands clamped over his mouth as he rushes to the toilet, barely making it before he started to vomit even with nothing on his stomach.

Slowly, he slumps against the cool floor, panting as his mind roils with - was it a dream? A hallucination...? Do those things actually hurt?

What the hell happened?]

[He'll have little time to think to himself - as the door to his room is suddenly pounded on, almost frantically.]

Holmes! Holmes, for god's sake - are you awake?!

[For the first time since they've met, he actually sounds...shaken.]

[He jolts up at the pounding, blinking blearily oh... his hands - he has both hands.

His hand rests on his belly, while he did feel like he just threw it all up, it felt like his guts were still inside. Sherlock wobbles, wiping his face briefly before opening the door, he can see a few other agents peering through gaps in their doors]

Ye-yes, I'm awake... what-

[The question died on the tip of his tongue, for a moment seeing the man on the floor, bisected, then seeing Greyson most clearly dead]

Ahn...

[He braces against the door frame to steady himself, until his vision starts to clear and a living man stands before him once more]

Edited 2020-10-05 03:46 (UTC)

[He's aware of the staring eyes - it's 4 or 5 in the morning, so they're well within their rights to wonder why they're being so noisy in the morning.

Still -]

Then let me in, and we'll discuss in private.

[He says it just quietly enough so no one will overhear, but he knows there'll be whispers about this to begin with.

Damn it all - he shouldn't have rushed over, but that pain - waking up and plastering his hands over his stomach, as if to confirm it was all still there...he had a deep sense that he had to make sure the other man was fine.

Which he clearly was, if...also shaken by what he'd gone through.]

Be quick about it, if you would.

[He could guess the nature of the gossip, as he quietly steps aside to let the man inside - closing the door once he done so.

They were safe - he did a thorough check in the first week of casing his room for cameras or microphones, it seems the Wing didn't care much what they did in their own bedroom, but halls and on - they were under constant surveillance.

Sherlock's room was messy in the way of someone who either hits the bed soon as they come back, or too lost in the books scattered around to notice the world around them]

I... you experience - that?

[A modicum of privacy was allowed, it seemed, for those who lived in the dorms - their rooms alone were not monitored.

Then again, in a place where life was easily taken and pushed aside - most likely, they were considered too expendable to allow for that kind of monitoring.

He holds his tongue about the room, looking around for a chair to sit on as he nods.]

Being split in half by an abnormality is hardly something one forgets.

[It's a bit dry, but...]

Yet...now we are here, whole and hale. And - have you checked the date on your phone, yet?

[Because it's the same date, in the early morning.]

[He pushes his coat off the nightstand, checking his phone at that, quietly blanching as he checks the date, stepping back until he falls onto his bed, brows knitting in confusion, then alarm as he processes it]

Whole... hale, in the morning. And the damn thing isn't running around and chirping.

What the hell...?

....Time manipulation.

[It's said firmly, yet....also, quietly.]

I had assumed the only Singularity Lobotomy Corporation had on hand was the Abnormalities, and yet....It's clear they also have some minor time manipulation on hand, as well.

I wonder if they stole that from W Industries? It may work on the same principles as....that 'train.'

[Immediately, the man shivers once he mentions it.]

At the very least, we were lucky enough to still be...alive, I suppose, once the time reversed. Yet...I feel we most likely are the only few who remember, outside of the Manager and whoever else would be high enough to know.

[At the mention of the train, he winces, glancing over at him]

And it would be in our interest for them not to realize we still remember, getting too much attention is not a good thing here.

I wonder if that is why the Manager was so laissez-faire, because he knew he can start over if he messes up - I wonder what other Singularities the Corporation got their dirty little hands on...

I would rather not be experimented on or casually executed, no.

[He sighs, running a hand through his hair.]

And yes...that would certainly make sense. A 'Ah, so that is what it does, and how it proceeds once it breaches' moment, before hitting the 'reset button.' A learning moment, and none of the dead staff will even know of their fate.

Because it won't have happened. They will wake back in their beds in the morning, none the wiser.

[He rubs his face.]

Typical of the man.

[...?

What?

He's never met the manager personally, so why...?]

...Have you met the man?

[He asks quietly, searching his face - more curious now as to his origins]

I...No, actually....I never have.

[He hesitates before telling him that, but...he's just as baffled at what he said.]

I...suppose it's a side effect of age? Haha...ha.

[He pauses, studying him - he doesn't seem to be lying, and in fact he seems just as confused as he is]

Perhaps it's a side effect of time manipulation, confusion?

[Sherlock offers, biting his lip for a moment, it's better - the more they're talking, the less his shoulder wants to throb, and less he felt like blood would suddenly splatter on him]

Potentially....

[He says it slowly, looking over at the man and studying him in return.

He wants to ask - 'Do you sometimes feel as if words are placed in your mouth, too?' - but he doesn't know the other yet, and that would be tipping his hand too soon.

As this is...for now, this is enough.]

I would not be surprised. We'll merely...have to reconvene, if this happens again, and see if something like that occurs once more.

[However...since they 'survived', in a sense, he should ask - before he forgets.]

You seemed...familiar, with that Abnormality. Have you encountered it before?

[He saw the shift, it seems he wanted to ask more, but thought better of it - though he's not sure what.]

Best to keep notes...

[As Moriarty asked that, he sighs softly, fingers running through his hair]

Yes - before I came here as an Agent... it's why I was 'recruited', actually.

Ah - so you were recruited...yes, you seemed to have a Fixer's fighting capability.

[That was fairly obvious - most Fixers were melee oriented, and he'd moved as if he'd seen battles before.]

Different than myself - being a mere Clerk before being moved to Agent status.

[Then again, given his sheer calm when a fucking Aleph was beating down their door, it's probably obvious why he became an Agent.]

[His brows raised, then his lips curled into a ghost of a smile at the observation]

Not many notice. You are eerily calm for someone facing an Aleph of that nature.

[His fingertips drummed on the nightstand]

Damn bastard took the skin of one of my group and slaughtered the rest - I was the only survivor.

Fixers are primarily melee fighters - while I've not seen your style before, I recognized the general movement.

[He listens to the rest, nodding.]

Calm? Yes - it surprises even myself, honestly. Even when I was bisected, I wasn't panicked or afraid. I suppose I may have already been resigned...or, perhaps, I just don't have a sense of fear.

[One would normally have the other associated issues - since that was a trait associated with Psychopathy, but-]

But, I do have emotions. I suppose...it is less 'no fear', and more 'I do not have an ingrained fear of death.'

[Which most likely made much more sense - as it was a common feature of those who lived outside of the Wings.

When you live so close to death, you begin to just accept it. Or, at least, that was what he liked to believe.]

- but, enough about me. My apologies, then - facing it again must have been quite harrowing for you.

[He shook his head, waving a hand dismissively]

Sounds like you've lived a long time in the backstreets.

[There's a strange kind of musing in his voice at that, curious but whatever seems to be on his mind, he kept it to himself as he sighs softly]

It's fine - you have no control over things, and I suspect... sooner or later, they'll send me to the containment of it, to see it's reaction.

['Teach me' - he shuddered. Why him?]

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