003 - [video]

[deductives]

[The feed is silent at first, overlooking a deep precipice. Strangely, the bottom looks like the sky, but there's no water causing a reflection. When the camera shifts upwards, high above the ground a city hangs upside down. In between, on the cliff face, there are winding staircases and castle parapets assembled in impossible fashions, and those with a keen eye may notice rather large spiders creeping around them.

At last the view settles on an elaborate looking throne, where Sherlock sits. His legs are typically crossed and his fingers steepled, but the suit he wears is a bit too clean cut, as is his hair. A tie, already odd enough on him, is embroidered with tiny skulls. None of this may seem too unusual until he finally speaks.]

You know, you all are so very, very disappointing. [The voice is Sherlock's, but it also isn't, doubled with someone else's. Someone with a decidedly Irish lilt.] I've been in this city for months now, and none of you had the decency to point me in the direction of even one unusual murder. I've never been tempted until now to make up my own, but now I have a convenient place to store that bothersome, useless things people call hearts or consciences.

[His hands fall down to his lap, revealing several blood streaks trickling down his face.]

Ghosts have no need for those, luckily. That's all I might as well be at this point; it would certainly be more convenient. [He sighs dramatically.] Buuut, if some of my old pets want to come scratching at the door post, I suppose I will have to oblige them.

[The feed cuts, shorting out a bizarre, bark of a laugh.]

Comments

voice; private

[enigmaestro]

I hate to say it, but someone must. My dear detective, for the first time in history you've revealed yourself to be quite the heartthrob.

[Oh no Eddie likes this. Oh no.]

All this talk of storing the organ away, in all its allegorical glory -- well -- something's throbbing. Let's just hope it's not something malignant and located in your skull.

Love the decor, by the by.

[voice]

[deductives]

Now, deputy mayor, you must place your second place ambitions aside and learn to open those green tinted ears of yours.

[It's masochism of some type which has yet to be seen.]

If anything, this is an exercise in removing tumors. I even have a doctor friend who might help me, if his own heart can take it.

[voice]

[enigmaestro]

Oh, trust me, Sherlock. I've been around this [lived it] type to know which is the tumor and which is the skull. Perspective, perspective.

-- Even if you can't see it yet. And how can you! The pinfeathers are yet showing. One ought to be well pleased to clip those wings, but it's not my bid.

[deductives]

Oh, then you'll miss the molt. Probably better for you, in the end, temporarily.

[enigmaestro]

Better for me? Why, detective, you sound almost -- hrm -- forlorn about my apparent bullet dodging.

voice

[viced]

Wow, that's fucking morbid, isn't it? Isn't no news supposed to be good news? I'd think that'd apply to murder too.

voice

[deductives]

I feel like we're repeating conversations we've had before, Mitch. Perhaps you don't mind your constituents being as boring as you are.

voice

[viced]

You're goddamn right I don't. There's something about murder being interesting that's a little fucking sick, you know that?

[deductives]

It's exceedingly difficult for me to believe you've never taken an interest, Mitchell. [He rolls the l's of the name with a strange, almost contemptuous relish.]

I guess you never liked history. Man's progress is built on killing each other.

[viced]

[ A pause. ]

That may be, but there's a difference between killing when absolutely necessary, and fucking murder.

[deductives]

Sounds like a bit of semantics from our favorite politician. I'd say most killers think it's absolutely necessary to kill, or they wouldn't. DO IT.

[There's an uncomfortable silence after he viciously shouts the last bit, the double voice reaching a disturbing crescendo.]

But how is city hall treating you, by the way? Last time I passed by it had the most dreadful feeling about it. Like maybe you'd finally been released, too.

[viced]

[ It's a long, heavy pause. He doesn't want to get involved in this, but he can't do anything but intervene over the network, if he can.

His voice sounds a hair harder. ]

Finally? You've got the wrong fucking idea. I think you must've imagined it, just like this justified motivation for a fucking killer.

[deductives]

There's no mistaking it. I was going to investigate it myself by some pointless, altruistic whim, before one of my pets got lost again. Naturally I had to safeguard my own insecurities first. Fortunately I don't need them anymore.

Just like I might have told you before that there is no justifying murder, only identifying a reason for it. Pathetic.

[viced]

[ An annoyed grunt, he's not debating semantics with a psychopathic version of Sherlock. ]

I think you're mistaken. But really, this is fucking ridiculous, what kind of fucking insecurities don't you need anymore?

[deductives]

Oh, what a personal and yet foolish question. Who wants insecurities at all?

[viced]

Nobody, but most of us recognize that there are insecurities that we have, even if we pretend they don't exist.

[ecphrasis]

[this... is bad. first john, now sherlock. and does she hear jim? she can't handle this.]

Where--where are you?

[it's all she can think to say]

[voice]

[deductives]

Come now, Molly. You've seen me go here before. Surely even you can figure that out.

[The drawl is more teasing, not matter of fact like Sherlock would normally be. It's also tinged with malice.]

[ecphrasis]

[she notices. oh, does she notice. this isn't right. she doesn't know where he is or how he got there or why he's saying any of this, but she does know one thing:]

You aren't him. You're not.

[deductives]

Whichever you mean, Molly, I am. Since the beginning, it's always been like this-- he is me. And it's thanks to you that I finally saw that.

[ecphrasis]

What do you mean, "thanks to me?"

[deductives]

Thanks to you, I could take on the shroud of death. The greatest parting gift you could give.

[ecphrasis]

[a beat]

It wasn't a-a parting gift.

[deductives]

I believe it was, whether you wished for it to be or not, Molly dear.

[ecphrasis]

Don't--

What's happened to you? Are you... I mean, did you...

[she can't bring herself to actually ask]

( voice )

[acclimatized]

... Looks a bit David Lynch-ish to me. [ despite the quip, there is no humour injected in john's voice. he's burned out by his own experience with... well, whatever this phenomenon is, to mask the apprehension in his voice. ]

Where are you? I'm coming to get you.

[video]

[deductives]

[More blood is dripping down Sherlock's face by the time he responds to John. He looks less flippant now, the glowing eyes of the shadow almost piercing through the communicator.]

Sometimes I would wonder if you made those references just because I don't understand them. But don't come looking, I don't need your lessons anymore.

[acclimatized]

[ seeing blood run down his face carries an association john doesn't particularly like and he clears his throat. ]

Well, you never listened to them anyway. [ he mutters, wracking his brain and trying to think where he should start searching for him. ] I'm coming, so... payback.

[deductives]

How typically unobservant of you to notice that I did, John. [The more Sherlock half of the voice almost sounds pained.]

You and everyone else let your hearts get so battered. I don't need it anymore.

[acclimatized]

So... you're just going to let yourself turn into this? Into him? [ john scoffs, voice wavering slightly as he alludes to jim. ] Nope. Not gonna let that happen.

sobbing at all this

[deductives]

This is how it was all along, there is no letting. But come and try. I can drive the point home.

[acclimatized]

Fine. [ through gritted teeth. ] When I find you, I'm going to knock some sense into you.

[deductives]

[More laughter, sounding more unhinged.]

If the pavement doesn't beat you to it, I assume.

[acclimatized]

[ it takes him a bit longer to respond this time. ]

Stop it. [ still forceful though. ] Sit tight.

voice; private

[predominates]

[ well, that's one way to send chills up irene's spine. she can feel jim moriarty stepping over her grave once again. and with sherlock playing puppet suddenly, this doesn't look like it will end well.

she steels her voice as best she can. her expression would betray her. ]

I understand your boredom, but I think this is taking things too far.

voice; private

[deductives]

Dearest Irene. [The sound of his voice is smooth and dripping with poison.]

Coming to this is the opposite of boredom. I think you'd agree.