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

[smartass_captain]

Right. Now Jim feels like an idiot. He's read the sign even, but in his panic had forgotten most everything that wasn't forcing himself to breathe and stay put.

"Maybe, but there is a pattern behind them. Not a guarantee to lead from cause to effect but enough to make a guess."

This time Jim does take a step or two closer. He doesn't quite have the nerve to smile in return to that smirk. Unease still seeps out of his stiff posture, no matter how calm and collected he tries to appear.

"Jim Kirk. You were right about the leadership role; I run a research vessel. Can't blame you for being wrong about the rest. My world probably isn't much like yours anymore."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"Jim." Sherlock thinks about the description a moment. "No. More than a research vessel, I think. Probably at least somewhat connected to the military. Or some form of military. I lived with someone who was invalided home from a war. The military have a certain air about them."

He's actually making an attempt to be polite, at least give him credit for that. Then the last part catches up.

"Ah! You're from the future. If we're from the same world at all. Interesting."

Not improbable or even impossible, given Sherlock has met creatures here who look alien enough. But still interesting.

"But something tells me things probably aren't as different as you like to pretend. Such is the way with history. People in my time like to pretend we've grown so far beyond the time of the Reformation. It's only changed in scope and technology, the reality of it, the violence, it's all pretty much still the same."

[smartass_captain]

"Well, you look human which means you're probably from Earth. Not a guarantee around this place, but a safe bet. I am too, just one that's in the 2200s. And Starfleet isn't a military although I suppose the organization it developed from used to be. We do have some of the same structures to it."

Jim gets this a lot, to the point where he sounds as though he's giving a practiced explanation rather than the fumbling he'd been doing up until this point. It helps him to unclench a little bit, though it's short lived as the topic quickly swings back to the reason he's so uncomfortable in the first place.

"There are certainly still people who think that progress can only be made through conflict." Whole planets destroyed, wars too close to developing because of such old fashioned thinking. So many deaths..."We're trying to be better than that, these days. It's something of a help that humanity's not the only species with that goal in mind when I'm from."

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

"Still trained to fight and use weapons, then." Sherlock shrugs. "An organization, sent out among the stars. Probably following the similar terms and protocols as the Navy and sea-faring lot. Close enough to military for me."

Which is all he really cares about. He's right. "And is that how you ended up here? One of your expeditions?"

Sherlock has no way to know. Everyone's story is entirely different.