Who: Jamie and open!
Where: The Brig, unless someone drags him out from it.
Summary: A reaction to Billy's repodding and Zetta's subsequent announcement.
Warnings: General unhappiness warnings. Possibly a bit of sulking and a reluctance to do things.

( This wasn't how it was supposed to go )

Once the call had gone out after his initial announcement 'Vadum had set himself to assessing the current stock of weapons, armour and vehicles available to them. They had access to the GIA armoury so they had little shortage of the plasma weapons they utilized, he had managed to procure a number of crates of assorted weapons, now currently stored in the Quarter.

That done, he'd made his way to one of the many sensoriums, the simulation of a fairly typical human constructed base and training field off to one side, including a firing range for those who needed to test their aim, an obstacle course for those who wished to test their agility as well as many other such structures that could be utilized to test the abilities of those who wished to sign on. The whole installation ringed by a clearing which then expanded out into forested hills. Filling a measure of this clearing to one side sat a number of vehicles of all sorts from those familiar to the Sangheili commander to others he had only observed in passing.

Off to one side near the firing range a table arrayed with all manner of weapons, both ranged and close combat weapons sat waiting to be test and used on the range. It was here that the Sangheili Commander waited.

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[OOC: Sorry to everyone for the lateness of this, have been eaten up by Uni lately, nearly to the end of semester though, so I should have time very soon.

As to the workings of this, I'll have two main those wishing to play through the sign up process are welcome to, characters in the infantry regiment can have either 'Vadum or Roger Maxson for their sign up. Those who don't wish to play out the process are more than welcome to hand-wave it.

The second subthread will be primarly a mingling part for those who wish it. Squad listings can be found here.

The third subthread will be a non-bendytimed training thread for those who wish it.]

Apparently, despite the destruction of worlds and the loss of countless lives, the Daligig saw fit to save 221B Baker Street of London. Mind you, it wasn't his and John's version of the flat, but it was a version of the flat, all dressed up in full Victorian-era glory. The furniture was finely made and hand-carved, but not horribly different from what it was in his world, the two chairs facing each other as they should be. Books were scattered all over, though they were hopelessly out of date in regards to modern science. Apparently, the alternate him opted for a pipe over cigarettes and nicotine patches, some other John had a medical practice downstairs, and alternate Mrs. Hudson didn't take as much umbrage with him leaving dummies around hanging from nooses in the kitchen. The union jack pillow was even there on John's chair and there were bullet holes in the wall, only they weren't arranged in a smiley face, they were arranged in the letters VR.

Apparently some alternate version of himself had a bit more respect for royalty than Sherlock did. Or a bit less. Hard to tell.

There was no television, of course, and there was no electricity, only the fireplace, which was currently devoid of fire (though there was some correspondence stabbed into the mantelpiece with a knife) but that wasn't what he missed the most about home, so it didn't matter. What he missed the most was doing what he'd spent the last few hours doing: napping naked in his bed, cocooned in some rather luxurious sheets.

It. Was. Glorious.

In fact, it put him in enough of a good mood to deal with people, so he reached over the edge of his bed for his omnicom, lay there tapping off a message, and fired it off, feeling too comfortable to even realize he hadn't quite been specific enough in his missive to communicate his true intentions, which were to meet the detectives of the Security Team, not any amateurs.

Yawning, he got up to putter around the flat still wrapped in his--"his" bedsheets, looking for the suit jacket he'd cast off in the sitting room, so that he could get dressed properly. What he wasn't expecting was for someone else to be there, which was why he froze in place.

[ooc: Open threads in this are open to any detective types that might respond to Sherlock's post. This is not meant to be an entirely open post, though, it's mean to be open to mystery/detective types or those interested in mysteries and detective work so they can have an meet n' greet.]