Lockdown Brings out Old muses

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[ooc: his current timeline is pre-"Final Problem", also rusty muse is rusty, apologies.]

There's a new person in the Nexus today. A very confused new person, who isn't sure exactly how he got here. Could be drugs. No, it can't be drugs. He has been more or less in lockdown during his detox, unable to access any drugs of any kind. John isn't even allowing him paracetamol right now. Which makes his detox headaches nearly too much to handle. Maybe that's what this place is...

Could be his mind palace, though it has never appeared like this before. He shakes his head to clear it of that idea.

He looks around, with complete confusion on his features. He reads the signs and takes in the population wandering around. None of it really takes away the confusion upon his features. He's not sure how to react to the information he's being flooded with...

His lips twitch as a song comes to mind. Lestrade had been the last person he remembered 'babysitting' him. He had brought a collection of music for them to listen to, so they could pass the time. So, one of those lyrics came to mind "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?"

Comments

[outrageous_liar]

"You don't slay them, you ride them. Not bloody enough left to slay. Well, not of the big ones, certainly."

He reaches out to prod the fellow on the side of the foot with his cane.

"Oh, get up. Sitting here, sulking about reality. Come on, we'll find some proper nonsense. Prove things to you."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I'm not sulking. However, you do not seem intent at all on proving things to me. I must be moving along now. Good day."

Because if he can't get his head around this, then...

[outrageous_liar]

It's like talking to a clock, really.

"Adventure is right around the blasted corner," he says, pointing in the opposite direction. "Really, now!"

He's had conversations with rocks that have more of a thirst for these things. Though they had been particularly polite trolls.

"What would constitute proof, eh?"

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock is fairly singularly minded, yes. He stops at the question.

"I'm not interested in adventure. First I need proof and if I knew what proof I'd need, then I wouldn't need proof, would I? I will know it when I see it."

Maybe. Just maybe not today. He takes a breath, calming himself. Trying to break the circle.

"All right. Say I can't get proof. Or say this place is what all these things say it is. What do I do? How do I live?"

[outrageous_liar]

"Not interested..." he staggers back as if struck.

You really couldn't have said anything more anathematic to him. You might as well have kicked his dog.

But then he hears the other half.

"Why you get on with it. You find what drives you and chase it to the ends of the Earth and beyond as the case may be! This place has something for everyone...even the...logical."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

He purses his lips. "Somehow I doubt that very much, but I shall move along. Good day to you. "

He inclines his head, and turns sharply on his heal, then moves of down the street, taking in the shops and figuring out what his next steps should be.