[Sherlock has been reading through the information provided at the kiosk with John, though it hasn’t taken him long to get through it all. Mostly he’s simply lapsed into thought as he is wont to do. After a long moment, he opens his eyes and sighs.] Those were rather useless. What do you make of it?

[It takes John a few moments longer to finish reading through it all, glancing up at Sherlock once he’s finished] We know how to get back home; that’s something. What I’d like to know is where ‘here’ is, exactly.

[He sighs and slips his hands into his pockets.] There is the problem that we’re expected to take this as truth.

[There’s a pause, followed by a soft groan as he shuts his eyes] Please don’t start. I don’t need you questioning my existence.

[Mildly.] I believe at the moment anything is fair game to question.

[He throws him a look] Stop it.

[Sherlock’s lips twitch.] Tell me your theory, John.

[He looks around him for a few moments, then back at the brochures before muttering] Some crazy dream would be my choice.

Then you’re questioning my existence. [He can’t help glancing around.] It’s very nice, though. You have good taste in hallucinations.

[Mildly] Or maybe a drug trip on your part. Wouldn’t that be lovely?



((ooc: Multiple threads, blah blah I decided they would be Christmas colours because I could. Perhaps thread hopping, who knows, double intro things!!))

{Today, our mysterious Frenchman has arrived holding a glass of wine, but otherwise looks as cold and detached as usual. But for the psychics/empaths out there, he's very deeply troubled underneath that cold surface. When he speaks, it's to no one in particular--he's just sad about his bro. Quietly.}

How curious loyalty is, that it sends so many fine men to their graves, but such men are rarely remembered for their loyalty. If your loyalty lies to someone corrupt, your death shall be corrupted as well, for no one cares of loyalty then. The world of the future may be one that needs no swords, but I hope that it will not be one that needs no loyalty.

Also how pitiable it is that the one-armed knight could not come to this place. Perhaps his arm could have been saved and Brother Whitehead not had to have died.

{He takes a sip of his wine}

Ah, well. Such is the price of each of our respective loyalties.