Disquiet

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock has been here about a month. He's more or less kept to himself, except when he's had to go out to get something to eat. It took about five days to settle in a bit and stop fighting the question if he was dreaming or not. He didn't like accepting that this wasn't a drug-induced high or that he was stuck in his mind palace. In the end, it helped that no one he recognised was here. After all, in his mind palace, there was always at least one person he knew.

But, it took that long because either of those options were preferable to the truth: he was in some weird alternate reality with no way home. Well, unless he found whatever door he had stumbled through to get here. And, he wasn't sure he wanted to go back. All that waited for him back there were recovery and facing the loss of Mary. Culverton Smith had been a fantastic distraction from the horror that it was his fault that Mary died. (Even if John told him it wasn't, he shouldn't have pushed Vivian.) It was a reality he didn't want to face. Yet, even here, the grief and guilt would sneak up on him.

It's why it was better to avoid people than be around them. Well, that, and the strange person who acted like she knew him so well and she didn't know him at all. That was... troubling. And he kept a look-out for her every time he did wander out. He hadn't decided what to make of her yet. So avoidance of that was the best possible answer. Still, he needed money. And while in theory, he understood the PIN devices, he wasn't sure they worked quite like the internet back home.

So, he's sitting on a bench in the plaza, next to a sign, which reads:
Sherlock Holmes,
the world's only consulting detective.

This is what I do:
1. I observe everything.
2. From that, I deduce everything.
3. Once I've eliminated the impossible,
whatever remains,
must be the truth.

But, that was really just attention seeking. He has a question of his own. So whenever anyone ventures close enough to read the sign, he allows for general introductions and eventually asks: "How do you live with yourself, if a vow you failed to keep led to the death of your friend?"

Comments

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"I don't like journalist." For so many reasons. "But, in my time, they're more like sharks at a feeding frenzy rather than focused on reporting what is essential."

Sherlock offers a nod, though. "Rupert." He gestures to the sign. "Sherlock."

[londonreporter]

"It was that way where I'm from, too. I tried my best to do serious work, but I'm afraid I was unusual in that respect among my paper's staff. It's why they didn't like me. I wanted to report on real news, with real stories."

Henderson doesn't take it personally. He's used to people being wary of the press. It's well-deserved in many cases. "Hello, Sherlock. "

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock cocks his head slightly at the reply. "Really? I thought the press was far more accurate in your age..." He breaks off for a moment, in thoguht. "...Unless you're from a different earth than I am. I have learned that can happen here.

[londonreporter]

"It was better in some ways, not in others. We had our gutter-press tabloids and nonsense like that. There were people reporting on life on the moon over in the States. Nonsense." Henderson looks curious when Sherlock brings up the possibility. "That could be. Was there a Martian landing on your Earth?"

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Give Sherlock a minute. He's trying to compute that. "Ah, no. There wasn't. Such an event, might explain why people were reporting on life on the moon, though."

Yeah, that might be the strangest thing he's ever said in an attempt to sound logical. He doesn't like how that makes him feel.

[londonreporter]

"The Sun's moon nonsense took place before the Martians landed in Surrey, so they don't have that excuse." Henderson shakes his head. "Sensationalism, that's what it was. Men on the moon with wings like bats. The real ones weren't nearly that sensational-looking. Ugly brutes, with just as ugly intentions, as it turned out. Looked like great squid."

Henderson wonders if his paper actually believed him when he telegraphed London. Frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock should take it in stride. But he can't. "Right. Definitely not from my universe, then. And you're certain what you experienced wasn't an hallucination?"

Because that is just weird. In ways he can't handle.

[londonreporter]

"No. I wish they were hallucinations, Mr. Holmes. The Martians turned their weapons on our peace delegation and destroyed the lot of us in a burst of fire."

Henderson agrees that it was weird. Unfortunately for the people in his world, it was also very real.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"So, you're dead in your world?" He hums. "Seems to be a common theme."

One he hadn't thought of. Maybe Molly was right and he was overdoing the drugs. But he was better, it's why he was released from the hospital.

"How does one know if they are here because they're dead?"

[londonreporter]

"If the last thing you remember happening in your world is things going black..." Henderson sighs. "In my case, I remember being on fire. Wouldn't recommend it."

He doesn't remember much about it, on the other hand, which is just as well. He had lived enough to realize that it was the Martians who were doing it.

"In my case, I woke up here after I got hit by the Martians'...heat-ray. I don't know what else to call it. Two of the team's other members are here, too, Stent and Ogilvy."

CW: Descriptions of types of death

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock hums. "I don't know, if you can make it through your nerve endings being burnt, fire wouldn't be so bad. Now having your head chopped off. You not only have the pain, but witness the rolling feeling as your head rolls away from your body. No one is entirely sure how long you remain conscious."

Umm, he's Sherlock, of course he's thought about these things. Sorry.

"And they died too. You said 'the lot of you' were destroyed. Well, at least you have people here."

Dead and with people is better than dead and alone. Now Sherlock is considering he might be dead.

[londonreporter]

"I would have rather it not happen at all." Henderson looks more than a little disturbed - he's reported about death and heard about it, but that's not the same as being actively involved in a death. He tries to shake it off.

He agrees with Sherlock that at least he has friends from his world here, so he's not in this surreal place with a load of strangers.

But, from the way Sherlock phrased that statement, the other man came to the Nexus alone. That's unfortunate.

"Ogilvy's my friend, and I'm glad he's here. Stent's a prat. I couldn't stand him when he was alive and I doubt he's more tolerable dead."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"Death is the only reliable experience to happen to everyone."

Yup, he's pretty casual about it. Comes with the territory of his job. He raises an eyebrow at the last part.

"You doubt... so you don't know. Haven't tried talking to him? Interesting. Death does surprising things to people."

[londonreporter]

"Well, it's inevitable. I still would have preferred something less dramatic."

Henderson hadn't given much thought as to how he would die. It's something he figures people don't like thinking about.

"I suppose I could give him a chance. Talking to the Martians was his idea, though. I thought we should have evacuated the common and even all of Surrey."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"I've been told I don't give people enough of a chance or don't talk to them enough."

He shrugs. He doesn't care one way or another. But if he's given that advice, makes sense to give it to others.

[londonreporter]

"That sounds a bit like me. Though usually the people I don't give a chance have a reason for that. Still, it might be best to let the grudge go."

Henderson can hold grudges something fierce. It's part of who he is.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

“Worst that will happen is he might kill you and then at least I’ll have something to do.”

Yes, he sounds entirely too pleased about that.

[londonreporter]

Henderson notices, but he doesn't seem too bothered.

"Stent's no killer. He's just a snot. It might be because he's Astronomer Royal and it went to his head."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Well that takes all the fun out of it. No reaction? Why does he even bother?

“You sound jealous.”

[londonreporter]

Henderson's a little surprised.

"Didn't think I was. Jealous of Stent, I mean. Granted, it's hard not to be of him."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Sherlock smiles. He was right. While never wrong that he'd willingly admit to back home, it seemed he was always wrong here. He's going to enjoy it as long as he can.

"So, you're the one I should be worried about killing him. Good. I like to know my suspects ahead. It saves time."

[londonreporter]

"I'm not going to murder him. The Martians did that for me." Henderson smirks a little. "I think he suffered enough."

Henderson's not the murder-y type, though he's punched people a few times. Usually not without reason, he thinks.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"You do realise that's not a complete denial of wishing harm on him?"

Oh, Sherlock is quite amused now. But this is all a game at this point. Still, he'll have to keep an eye on those two. He won't push further, though. It's been more entertainment than he's had recently.