.001

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

[It is probably not a surprise to some that Irene Adler has, upon her arrival at the Plane, found herself in the Theatre.

Of course, while it may not be a surprise to some, it does surprise Irene.]

Is anyone here?

[Not exactly the timid type, Irene is going to do her best to make her arrival known. She speaks with a notably American accent, although some of her pronunciations reflect she has spent a fair amount of time in England. She examines her surroundings. .. Which she regrets doing, now that she's noticed one of the Wallmasters crawling across the back of the seats.]

Surely I have gone mad. I have spent much of my life in the theatre and never have I seen something so... revolting or offensive or... absurd as this. Whatever prank this is, I assure you, whomever is listening, I find it neither endearing or entertaining that you have abducted me against my will.

[Being as she is, Irene actually approaches the disembodied hand, staring down at it with disgust and – whether she'd admit it or not – fascination.]

I do insist that you direct me immediately to whomever your devilish puppeteer may be. I am due at a very important engagement tonight in London and I can assure you that those who await me will worry drastically for my safety if I am not to appear.

[The hand suddenly pops forward towards Irene, and she squeaks in unladylike surprise, backing away fast enough to watch it tumble to the floor. It bolts towards her and grasps for her skirt, and she stamps at it helplessly with her foot, shouting as she kicks it away.]

Get away you... you vermin!

Comments

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Sherlock meanwhile has time for this to click with what Braxiatel told him before.

Mental note: show Irene his phone later.]

Ah. I can safely say I am the man you're referring to, except about 100 years in the future and possibly not from your world at all.

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

[Irene laughs mockingly.]

Landscapes floating in space, disagreeable disembodied hands and now you insist to be Mr. Sherlock Holmes but from the future.

[She really hates this idea.]

No offense intended, but I think you are mad.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

Very probably. [He smiles.] Tell me, if you believe in his method, then what would it say now? Observe, deduce, eliminate the impossible. What's left?

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

[The corner of her mouth twitches momentarily.]

The truth is relative, is it not? After all, you and I may both be mad, and this world is nothing but our imaginations. Certainly you would have to go to great lengths to eliminate such an hypothesis?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[He laughs.] Right enough. I thought John and I were dead at first.

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

[Irene doesn't seem to find any humor in that comment.]

And now you are sure that we are not?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

Isn't that a good thing?

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

Of course. I'd much prefer to be alive, after all. I just wanted to make sure of your certainty on the matter.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

It isn't perfect certainty. But it's what I have eliminated down to be the truth.

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

[She looks down.]

If you are correct, then you are remarkably luckier than the Sherlock Holmes of my world.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Frowning.]

What happened to him?

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

[Her face betrays only a shadow of sadness before she is emotionless once again, and her tone is flat.]

He died.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[There is a long pause as Sherlock hesitates. It echoes of his own theory on why he and John are really here.]

Moriarty?

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

Yes. Although, Mr. Holmes managed to vanquish the mighty beast and make London streets safe for all again. [There is a slight sarcasm to her voice, although it fades before she speaks again.] He died a hero.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Sherlock can't help snorting.] I hope I never do. [He glances at her.] Before John and I were taken here, we'd just met Moriarty.

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

I'm pleased to say I have the luxury of never making his acquaintance. I've chosen a simpler life, and have no room in it for such men as he.

[She peers at Sherlock questioningly.] Do you mean to say you hope to never die, or that you hope you are never a hero?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

Both, I suppose, though more the latter. I don't have the patience for heroics. It's usually irrational anyway. Self-sacrifice and that sort of nonsense.

[thewomanswit.livejournal.com]

Well, Mr... Holmes. [She states is skeptically, the way a person addresses someone who's name they're not entirely sure they remember.] I'm afraid that is hardly your decision. It is not the man that makes himself a hero, but rather those whom he leaves behind and are therefore obligated to carry his memory.