shinytoybox | Sherlock and Moriarty nonsense

[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?]

A bit, yes.

[He may look old, but he wasn't physically old - unless they changed some of his body to reflect that, of course.

It didn't feel like they did, though.]

Yes, that reminds me...It kept saying 'teach me', didn't it? How odd. Hello, Goodbye, help...all of these are phrases one would expect, but that one...

[He falls silent, musing.]

...How odd.

That's the strangest thing... it said that on the outside... when it was wearing Lestrade's skin.

[He's not sure if he likes where his mind's going, and the more he watches Moriarty, the more things seem a little odd but he can't quite put his finger on it]

...Hm.

[That's all he has to say on it, looking thoughtful for the moment - before shaking his head.]

Well, at the very least, it seems we have a 'do-over.' Here's hoping that our manager has learned from the previous mistake.

[He stands - easily and gracefully, as if he wasn't a mid-50's looking man.]

I will see you at work, then. We should both try to get some rest before the 'day' officially begins.

Edited 2020-10-05 19:14 (UTC)

[He does seem rather youthful in action... how odd]

Hopefully we don't have to experience that too often. Whatever else we can figure out, it can wait for when the shift ends.

[Long as the Manager doesn't mess up again, nodding as Moriarty takes his leave, though he's not sure if he can get any rest before it's time to work]

[Unfortunately, The shift wouldn't end.

The shift continued to not end for a while.

Three tries, in fact.

Once again, it is 4 am, and once again, they are commiserating in a room - Moriarty's this time, which is clean and well kept.

The man himself is lying on his bed, groaning once before sitting up and placing a hand over his face.]

What is the Manager doing...I fear my guts will be permanently injured at this rate.

[Indeed, the pain of their wounds is only getting stronger as time goes on. Of course, they tried different solutions and fighting methods, but...]

At least this last time, it was the Army in Black instead of Nothing There.

Ugh... least that's less painful than the other two.

[He leans against the wall, hissing softly]

I suspect our Manager might be trying to extract more EGO from them.

Least we know to pull our punches if that damn bird gets in the way.

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