notquiteheartless | Deduction 5 - [ audio / action ]

Deduction 5 - [ audio / action ]

That one there.

...No. The other.

Thank you.

[Sherlock Holmes likes to talk as he works.

Today, he actually has a project. Gone is the boredom and lethargy, but he has not progressed into the mania of a case yet. He is all scientific control now, watching every flame and chemical and reaction with the utmost care.

There's a lot to do. Compounds need to be broken down so elements and simplier compounds can be isolated. Then those have to be correctly combined. A long process with the rudimentary equipment found in the laboratory he and Temperance share in her flat.

And whomever he is speaking to isn't the only one who has to listen to him.]

It's always about comfort.

Truth? Entirely expendable if one is not comfortable with it. People prefer what makes them feel at ease, what seems 'nicest.' Even if it's nothing more than a good story.

[And Moriarty was a very good storyteller.]

Whatever threatens their world-view least, they accept. Are delighted to take as proven fact, even if there is only conjecture to support it.

Sheep, following the butcher to slaughter, bleeting happily.

[Does he sound irritated?]

But everyone makes mistakes. All their deceptions? Eventually come unravelled. Strange as this place is, it is not an exception to this rule.

[That would be because he is. His mood has been just a slight bit volatile since his midnight "chat" with Moriarty. Whom he is quite sure will hear this, whom he wants to hear this, wants him to know he'll be waiting for that one mistake. His conversation with Lestrade hadn't helped either.

To the other in the room:]

That one now.

[A quiet sigh. The look he's getting doesn't need words to make its doubts clear.]

Oxford, John. I know what I'm doing.

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[For what seems like the umpteenth time since Booth's arrival, she finds herself rolling her eyes. He's not listening. He hasn't seemed to listen to anything she's said lately, has he?

It's not even all that surprising that, rather than continuing to walk further down to his door after she unlocks her own, he stays right behind her.]

You might be ripping out something important before you've had the chance to read it, Booth.

[This is why he liked Bart's. Nine times out of ten, he could expect the environment to be almost completely silent except when he didn't want it to be. There were no people in that area, no one above or below or on the same floor to make noise.

Granted, these weren't the most disruptive conditions he'd ever worked in. Not in the slightest.

His supplies are set up as carefully as he can manage. It's taking longer than it would with a full range, but that's because every step has to be repeated over and over to obtain what he needs. At the far left of his table, placed just so, is a beaker of white powder. A few Bunsen burners are out, one unlit with a syringe lying beside it-- he'd told John he'd picked it up from one of the clinics here.

At present, he is adjusting two of the relays between parts of his endeavour. Stopping up the pale blue liquid now collected in one area and not yet allowing it to combine with a white-ish liquid in another other.]

Edited 2012-05-21 03:32 (UTC)

[ Sherlock, someone's possibly coming in. The door's unlocking...

Right. 'Stepped out for Science, Do Not Disturb'.

John's got it.

Shifting into the apartment, Booth and Bones will find John leaning on the wall just outside the door to the former bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. ]

Hello!

[ He greets, friendly but not exactly cheery. Temperance, of course - it was her apartment. The other bloke, though, John didn't recognize. Did she just call him... a booth? ]

They were blank pages, alright? And even if they weren't, what am I gonna learn? "Hey, we've all been kidnapped and we can't talk to the jokers who did it...but hey, who cares? Let's have a toga party!"?

[His tone was caustic...but it wasn't directed towards Brennan. Not really. It was directed at....all this. This place. Not being able to get back. He'd been in Luceti for a grand total of 48 hours, and already his nerves were rubbed raw.

His tirade gets cut off, however, when he realizes they aren't alone in the apartment. Subtle signs of his tension appeared as he looked over the two men in Brennan's apartment. One squint. Possibly two, because why else would they be here? It made sense, knowing Bren, but the details are ignored as he shoots a quick question at his partner]

You're giving out keys to your apartment, now?

That party proved to be very signifi-- oh. [If not so much the party itself, but the cultural themes borrowed for the sentient equine's gathering. The idea of a similar society existing on an entirely different planet, with an entirely different dominant species, still fascinates the anthropologist. Can't you just tell, Booth?

The thought isn't finished. Not aloud, anyway. She had grown so accustomed to both Sherlock and Doctor Watson's comings and goings since the inception of the lab. It had honestly slipped her mind to warn Booth as to the presence of the other scientist.]

Not giving out. [A correction.] Sherlock and Doctor Watson are the only two who have access. For the lab.

[There was still a quiet hum of conversation within the laboratory. A single voice, maintaining almost a monologue. Even-toned and well-paced, neither the lulling drone of recitation or the frenzy of ramblings. It continued until only seconds before he appeared in the doorway.]

I don't see why it wouldn't work. [He looks at the lighter haired man of those gathered... as if he had been talking to him the whole time, answering a host of objections, given his tone. Or perhaps just one or two.

He looks at the stranger with no more attention than one would give someone unexpected but not unwelcome, then looks at the woman among them.] I should only be a few hours more, Temperance. I would hate to quit my work in the middle of it.

[His eyes were back to the newcomer.] I see you've arrived after all, Agent Booth.

[ This new man was priming up for irony, it seemed. His presence, unexpected, made John a little tense, but he'd clearly been invited. What he knew about what he was walking into was another matter...

His head turned just slightly as Sherlock chose to grace the room with his presence, a corner of his lips pulling skeptically as well. ]

It's not the working so much as the making and storing I'm concerned about.

[ His gaze shifted back to Bones and the stranger. How exactly did one go about saying 'In case something happens in the lab, both of you should be ready to run for your lives'? Agent Booth? What sort of agent? Well, it was nice someone knew who the bloke was out of the two of them. No real surprise there. He has not, quite yet, made the connection between the man and the 'stupid' colleague Brennan had once told him of.

Now that Sherlock was here, he'd likely have something more to say. As for John, he had nothing of value to input (that didn't concern damning the objective), so he simply nodded a greeting to Booth. Hello, whoever you are, perhaps we'll speak later or never. Things are funny like that when you're trapped between two people who seem to like the sound of their own voices. ]

See? This is why I-

[....wait.

Wait.

What?!]

Sherlock and Dr. Watson.

[his voice couldn't be more dry than when his gaze jerks back to the two strangers]

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?

[Please tell him this is a joke.]

[Introductions were not necessarily something Brennan always remembered. She should have known better, but she had honestly not expected Sherlock and John to be in. Nor had she expected Booth to insist on following her inside her apartment. Again. Despite his tendency lately to follow her everywhere.

His shock had caused the idea of an introduction to slip her mind. But, it seemed, it was not needed to begin with.

She turns to look at her partner, confused.] You've already met?

[...Now, that's interesting.

Not being known, really. By this time, with all the papers? He was used to being recognised. So it's fully possible that this man is just more aware of British detectives. Though, from Temperance's description of his mental abilities? He doubted that.

The name "Doyle" did not yet spark in his mind. He still had difficulty connecting he and John's 'Study in Pink' with that Study in Scarlet.

So. One simple question, then, looking at Temperance.]

You didn't mention us?

[Not that she needed to. He didn't expect her to.

But either Booth knew who he and his colleague were by himself or he had figured it out from Temperance's mentioning them and putting simple facts together.]

[ John does perk in turn, blinking. Booth's tone is incredulous, which seems to hint that such a happenstance would be ridiculous to him. ]

Have you... read my blog?

[ Because there was more to that blog than just his final post, and people outside of Great Britain had read it, he knew. ]

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

[he gives the two of them a sour look before whirling on Bones, shaking his head]

Tell me you didn't fall for that.

[Before she has a chance to chime in and explain to John that Booth's choice in reading material still very much incorporates that of a comic background, Booth gives her a look she doesn't quite understand. This cannot be about failing to mention her acquaintances to him. At least, not solely about that. Her partner does not possess Sherlock's rationality. He, unlike Sherlock, would be offended if she had failed to mention his presence to anyone she was on remotely friendly terms with.

In response to Sherlock's question, she shakes her head no. But Booth's statement is only met with a confused look.]

I don't know what that means, Booth.

Sherlock is my... colleague. [A more apt description than friend.] He possesses a keen intellect and a refreshingly rational approach to life that I have seldom seen in most. And Doctor Watson is... his friend.

[John's assessment seems plausible. His mind was there, too. And it only stays on that thought when Booth speaks.

The changes are subtle, but John's familiarity with the detective might catch them. Sherlock, never one for poor posture anyway, draws himself up taller. His hand flexes at his side, and an undeniable tension coils every muscle. Because those words freeze his blood.

"Tell me you didn't fall for that."

Moriarty's poison. Affirmation of what he needs to do. He knows the answer, but he's going to make Booth say it.]

What is it you think Doctor Brennan [formal now, a further reflection of the anxiety and paranoia the criminal mastermind managed to plant deep in his mind] has fallen for, Agent Booth?

[Another American agent is in his mind. Another man with a gun like Booth's. A man who had threatened two people he wouldn't tolerate seeing hurt.

...He's not sure whose temper he's more worried about, given the answer he expects from Booth: John's or his.]

[ John doesn't like that look, feeling like he's being accused of something. He straightens as well, coming off the wall he's been leaned against.

Sherlock's question is his question: What the hell are you implying? ]

[That....that was interesting. He's angry, and not at the top of his game (this place was too disorienting for that), but he's still cautious enough to notice the rising tension in the other two. Perfectly explainable, considering that he's sure he just caught them out in a lie, but they're in a closed space. Bones's space. And he doesn't want her trapped in the middle of it.

His hand doesn't go for his gun, but it shifts somewhere close. Somewhere he could reach in a second if he needs it, even while his skeptical glower shifts to Sherlock] Seriously, Buddy? Sherlock Holmes?

[and back to Brennan, though it's more words than a glance, this time. He's not risking taking his eyes far from the other two] Bones, how can you not know this? You write mystery novels, for God's sake...

[The tension in the room is noticeable, even to Brennan. Booth is... angry. Over Sherlock's name? A prospect that makes very little sense. A name cannot be helped. But it is not just Sherlock. He claims that she's fallen for something. And yet, he is incapable of properly answering Sherlock's question.

Her own annoyance is becoming quite palpable. Her attention never leaves Booth, even as his interest is otherwise occupied. There is a sense of honor and logic he retains, even at his more irrational moments.

This... still is not making any sense. She rolls her eyes, frustration coming out in the short response.] Just because I write mystery novels does not mean that I bother to read others in the genre.

Don't.

[Yes, Sherlock is giving an order to the angry, armed American federal agent. He really doesn't care about the part of this that isn't a good idea. He's too busy watching that had and that gun.

He and John are unarmed, at present, but they're close to the lab. A couple steps could put them in a decent defensive position. Burners and beakers and syringes. He can make weapons of those.

But then... Just before he prepares to argue about his name... He hears those words. Words that make everything click into place. It's strange to think about and seems impossible, but... He looks straight at Booth.

It's just one word, but it asks enough.]

Doyle?

[ Gun. Of all the times to be unarmed... John shifts somewhat toward Sherlock while Booth's attention rounds on the woman. His friend, or so John assumes by the way they came in, by the way they speak to one another. The American is chastising the anthropologist, who seems as much confused by the incident as they are. He doesn't understand why mystery novels have got anything to do with anything, unless Booth is suggesting they -no, Sherlock; it's clear to John he's been labeled as the least threatening here, by his stature or by his silence- have some sort of traits that Brennan should have seen through. As if Sherlock fit some sort of profile...

It takes him a moment to catch on when Sherlock speaks. Doyle. John mouths it, just his eyes cutting over to the taller man.

Then. ]

You can't be serious.

[ To the room at large at first, but then he's squinting at Booth. ]

You think we're fictional characters? Is that it?

[ His tone is just as incredulous as the one Booth turned on Sherlock. Study in Scarlet - codswallop... But concerning toward Sherlock's theory of the story being placed by the Malnosso, because Booth was a newfeather... Unless the Malnosso could implant memories.

Like he needed any more paranoia about the current situation. ]

Edited 2012-05-28 22:57 (UTC)

[there's a thin press of his lips as he shoots John a look] No. I think you're lying about being fictional characters.

[He might have been kidnapped to an unknown place where people had wings and hadn't heard of the FBI, but that didn't mean he'd gone off the deep end. He favored the more simple explanation. Which, unfortunately, meant he mostly missed the truth.

He's not really waiting for more argument from them, though. He's still aware of their movements, but it's Bones he wants to convince, to move her away from them...just in case]

Greatest detective of all time? Solving puzzles no one else can with his buddy the army doctor? And these guys...what...just happen to have two of the most famous names outside of an anthropology journal? I don't think so.

I have known both Sherlock and Doctor Watson for as long as I have been in Luceti and I assure you, Booth, neither are lying as to who they are. It would be extremely difficult to manufacture the kind of intelligence Sherlock possesses.

[She might not be as good at reading people as Booth or Angela, but she's not an idiot. And right now, all excitement of having her partner here is starting to wear very thin. He's being utterly ridiculous. More so than normal.

She rolls her eyes, finally stepping in front of Booth so that he is forced to face her and not Sherlock or John. Her arms cross over her chest. Someone is not happy anymore.] That aside, I cannot think of a single logical reason for anyone to lie about being fictional characters. Especially fictional characters I have never heard of.

[Regardless of the fact that someone once told her fictional people do come to Luceti. Perhaps a tidbit of information she should share. But a tidbit she ultimately finds irrelevant and equally ridiculous.

But it really does not take a genius to guess what this is all about.]

I trust Sherlock and he has, more than once, vouched for Doctor Watson. We established this small laboratory weeks ago and this arrangement has suited all of us. If Sherlock had wanted to harm me, he has had ample opportunity.

["Greatest detective in the world"?

Well. He'll take it. It's an ego boost amid the insult of being thought of as a threat to Temperance, a liar about his name, and a fictional character. At least he has John and Temeprance on his side.

Sherlock looks at Booth.]

Military caution.

Admirable. But unwarranted in this instance. As Temperance explained, I have had ample opportunity if my motive was to hurt or kill her.

Besides, neither Doctor Watson or I am stupid enough to harm either of you while you are armed with two handguns and we are both entirely unarmed.

[Both easy deductions, Sherlock knows. Nothing that ought to impress. At least, not in his mind. It seems totally obvious and mundane to him.

But it might prove enough to keep the agent's mind from lingering on how much of an advantage he actually has in this situation.

...Besides, how can he resist saying something about his observations in regards to Booth?]

[ The accusation is ridiculous, of course. Why would anyone pretend to be fictional characters? Even if he's wrong, though, John can tell Booth's irritation is real. He believes what he's saying as much as Brennan has no idea what is going on.

Greatest detective of all time. Oh, now you've done it, buddy. Not that it'll stop Sherlock from-- yep. ]

We don't want to hurt anyone.

[ John feels the need to clarify -passing Sherlock a quick look of 'shut up, I know, now is not the time' which could luckily be mistaken for a simple reprimand- while holding his hand up in a halting sort of gesture. While Sherlock and Brennan's reasonings are true, they still sound a lot like a threat. ]

We're as stuck in this as you are. We've been working with Doctor Brennan months before you showed up and, believe it or not, we've got no reason to lie about who we are. Things are crazy enough as it is.

[ He resents the implication that he's pretending to be someone he's not. Really, if John had been good at all with acting, he'd have picked someone a little more interesting to play. Army doctor is right on the nose, but it's not like it's impossible for there to be another Doctor Watson in the world. Sherlock Holmes, though - that's the decisive factor here. A strange name, but no one could possibly replicate the consulting detective; John's sure of that much. He'll defend the man if Sherlock won't, but he doesn't really think the other will deny a show, considering his company. Sherlock might not care what Booth thinks of him, but John's willing to bet the man will lean toward trying to impress Brennan, if anyone. ]

[...ample opportunity...

...months before you showed up...

48 hours, and he'd been shot at, discovered wings, and learned his partner had been here without him for months. His son was in another world. His job wasn't even recognized. And now this.

Reason isn't really his primary instinct at the moment.

Sherlock's observation about his weapons could very easily have been taken as a threat. Or, at the very least, a reason to pull one of them. But Brennan had stepped in his way and, instantly, Booth's full focus becomes her.

...Really, it's probably the best thing she could have done]

Bones, step aside.

[It really doesn't take a genius to guess the phrases Booth probably heard. She knows her partner. Though she has not yet asked him outright, outwardly appearances suggest an age close to that of what she remembers. An age that would imply acknowledgement of the feelings which exist between them. A need for Booth to be even more overprotective than usual. She might have rejected him, missed her opportunity, but it didn't make those feelings go away. For either of them.

Partners have each other's backs. It's one of the first lessons he ever taught her. The reason she directs her angry stare in Sherlock's direction for a moment. Given his insights, observations, and deductions, he should have known better than to say the words that would be most likely to cause a reaction from Booth.

She is not at all impressed. With any of them right now.]

I'm not moving, Booth. Not until you agree to calm down and act rational.

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plz smack effy if it gets to be 3+ days with no reply, this is not worth it

<3

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