The Inevitable [closed to Kerrigan]

[on_your_nerves]

Good God, he needed a cigarette. Between the world being destroyed and all his friends besides John possibly dying along with it (or the entire thing being a total lie), John punching him and storming off, the talking ponies, the random superhero bringing up his cocaine addiction, and arguing with a space elf over (ugh!) politics and clandestine rebellions...actually, forget one cigarette. He needed a whole carton. Strike that, maybe a truck full.

Reaching into his many coat pockets on an instinctual search for cigarettes he knew weren't there, he found that a pack actually was there. And so was his lighter.

Maybe there was a God. Maybe there was a merciful God, or at the very least, maybe the ship really was as benevolent and merciful as she tried to make herself out to be and decided to smile upon him by snatching up a box of cigarettes with his belongings.

...Probably not, but this at least still was a fine bit of serendipity. Sherlock would take it.

Leaning into the doorway of a building in what he didn't realize was another blind spot in the city, he lit up his first post-end-of-the-universe cigarette and took a long drag from it. To be honest, it wasn't really enough, and like it always did when he least wanted it to, old cravings crawled up in the back of his skull and demanded something stronger.

"Not now."

No, not now, though the way he closed his eyes as he leaned against the door of the building and let out a lungful of smoke, would have made it clear to anyone looking that he was a fair bit more overwhelmed than he could even admit to himself.

It seemed that for now, however, he could be content with causing himself harm with only one cigarette at a time.

Comments

[nerves_of_steel]

John realized he was gripping Sherlock's knee and released it. He'd given his friend enough bruises today already.

"I imagine the first confrontation with Moriarty would have gone a little differently without the BeeGees," he muttered under his breath. He made an abortive move to assist Faiza and Sherlock, then realized that he had no idea where anything was kept in here. Something he'd have to remedy quickly.

[on_your_nerves]

"I haven't been to Switzerland recently. I did, however, recover a lost painting of the Reichenbach Falls. One of the ones by J.M.W Turner. The case, unfortunately, brought me more into the public eye, which Moriarty was able to use against me."

Interesting, the similarities and differences.

Oh, right. The dizziness. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten he wasn't just lounging there. He'd almost passed out.

"A bit of nausea, yes. And I'm thirsty. Dehydration, most likely."

His electrolytes were probably out of whack.

[couldputitback]

"No doubt, considering the amount of blood you lost." Faiza keyed something into the holographic interface and a bit of tubing came out of the wall with a needle attached. She pulled it to expose more, taking hold of Sherlock's arm and checked for a vein in his arm. "This should help. Bit of a blood transfusion--the ship can clone blood supplies, so it should be exactly what you need. It should help your electrolytes. And I'll get you both a cuppa once that's done."

It was a fairly slow day in the medbay, thankfully.

"Dr. Watson. Am I right in assuming you're generally his GP of record?" Or, at least, as close as possible. Somehow, she doubted that Sherlock Holmes went to the GP's office on a regular basis.

[nerves_of_steel]

John watched what Faiza did with the holographic interface and the wall-tubing very closely -- not out of suspicion or anything, but so that he could see how it was done and remember it when he needed to do it himself.

He smiled and nodded at Faiza's question. "You'd be right," he said, "though he seems to be behaving himself much better for you." GP's office nothing, sometimes John would be lucky if he could haul Sherlock to the emergency room -- that would be the downside to one's best friend knowing full well that one could stitch up the more minor wounds back at the flat.

[on_your_nerves]

"That's only because she can do a thing you can't do, and I'm hoping she'll do it again."

Her power was interesting.

[couldputitback]

"You're fine, so you'll not be seeing it again right now. If you get up and fall over to crack your head, you won't be conscious to see it. And if you get injured on purpose and aren't dying, I'll leave you to get on with healing on your lonesome." Because she knew damned well that he might do it on purpose to see what she was doing.

She looked to John, flushed slightly in embarrassment. "It's what I do. I...have powers that basically allow me to pull someone apart without harming them and fix their injuries." She made a motion toward Sherlock. "That's why there's no stitches. I'm pretty sure you're also trying to figure out just HOW a human can do things like that," she noted to Sherlock, before offering a holographic file to John. "Everybody goes through a physical when they arrive here. The general information, though, is something you can likely fill out yourself." And would be faster for everybody.

[nerves_of_steel]

"...No wonder he's so well-behaved then," John said, accepting the holographic files. "Sherlock's always wanted to see his own organs."

It was possible to see on John's face the moment when Faiza's words registered in his brain, as well as his own response. His brow creased up like an accordion and his mouth dropped open slightly.

"Er," he said, then shook his head as if to clear it. "That's remarkable. And very handy. Does everyone on your Earth have abilities like that?"

[on_your_nerves]

"No," said Sherlock for her. "As is fairly obvious by the callouses on her hands."

Come on, John, you're not even trying.

Sherlock leaned over to look at the holographic file, making sure not to lean over so far that he was dizzy and there was the slightest crease of his brow when he saw some of the questions. John could likely guess what questions had caused it and even if he hadn't been able to, the question Sherlock posed to Faiza next likely made it quite clear.

"How confidential are these records?"

He didn't exactly want some of his past...habits being common knowledge, especially if he was going to work with Security.

[couldputitback]

"I'd be interested in knowing why you think my callouses say that powers aren't common in my world," Faiza said mildly. "Also, he's shaken my hand exactly once. I don't think he's made a grand study of the fact that my hands aren't silky smooth. He's a warrior himself, after all."

Army doctor. It was close enough.

"Anyway, I wouldn't say they're common. They used to be more common, but something like...I think it was ninety-odd percent of the mutants in my world lost their powers. Mutants being short hand for people with a mutated gene that causes them to display powers beyond that of so-called 'normal' people. Somehow, the gene switched off in a great many people." She shook her head. "Mine aren't like that, though. You get hit by an alien scientific possible-death ray and wake up with nifty powers. It was an interesting trade."

And...she was babbling again. Faiza huffed a sigh at herself. "And the records are locked to medical personnel. The only reason for someone outside our department to look at them would be if you did something completely idiotic and we had to identify your body afterward." She leveled a steady gaze at him. "Which means you don't have free reign of them either, even if Dr. Watson is working in the department."

[nerves_of_steel]

John's mouth quirked in a smile and he winked at Faiza. "Go on, then," he said to Sherlock. "Regale us with how you know her powers aren't common because of her callouses. I know you're d-- you want to."

Sherlock's been in hiding for three months, after all, it's not likely that he's had much opportunity to show off. Especially not in front of an appreciative audience. And, well, John hasn't had the opportunity to hear Sherlock show off in three months either. It'd be a lie to say that he didn't miss it, too.

Faiza's explanation of her world with its mutants and spontaneous world-wide gene silencing and super-power-granting alien maybe-death rays got a polite if somewhat bewildered nod as John looked over the forms. Her response to Sherlock's question earned another smile, though whether it had to do with pleasure that medical ethics were still upheld in spite of the crazy circumstances or in anticipation of a Sherlock-sulk, it was hard to say.

"I'll save my questions about how the files are accessed for when Sherlock's not listening in, then," he said.

[on_your_nerves]

"The callouses are a clear sign of her having learned to use a sword--broadsword most likely, and she walks as if she's used to carrying something heavy at her hip--meaning that she carries the sword with her. An unusual practice for a doctor. They're recent, however--these are not the callouses of someone that's trained with a sword her whole life and the scars on her forearms, visible because her sleeves are rolled up, match. They're recent as well. What would make someone pick up a sword in the modern day? Some sort of recent life change, one she's explained now as becoming a superhero, one that makes sense given how careful she was when using her power on me. The powers are new, just like the use of the sword, that much is obvious by the care she took with them and her nervousness. If powers can be acquired at all, that means that there are at least some individuals that are born baseline human, powerless, and if such powers were a natural acquisition over time, they'd certainly happen at an earlier age, puberty at least, where they'd be more advantageous. If it happened to her in adulthood, it was a sudden change, more likely with an unexpected and artificial cause, further reinforcing that there are at least some individuals born without powers in her world and that such powers aren't something that everyone expects."

"Now how I do know baseline humans like her are the norm rather than the exception? If a society were full of individuals that are capable of powers--some of which were healing powers--why would there still be institutions like medical school and doctors? For her to even be a doctor, it means society is still geared towards training the unpowered in their respective fields. At the very least, even if those who have powers are more common, it's a recent enough change that such institutions haven't been dismantled."

Bringing it all together.

"In short, the callouses suggest a recent acquisition of powers, a recent acquisition of powers indicates they're not inherent for some individuals, her status as a doctor indicates there are still massive institutions in place to train the unpowered in certain fields. If powers can be acquired, but society is still geared towards training the unpowered, powers are not the norm."

Now finished, there was a brief glance at Faiza, but most of his attention was directed at John and there was something plaintive in his gaze, as if he was absolutely desperate to hear something he hadn't heard in some time.

[couldputitback]

Faiza's eyebrows raised as Sherlock kept going, the grin widening. She was being analyzed. By Sherlock Holmes. It really was something of a dream come true.

"Well. Even with people who could have powers naturally, we can't be certain the kinds of powers they'll manifest." Which was something that Sherlock couldn't take into consideration since he didn't know. "And while there are healers, you have to get past the knee-jerk, human reaction not to trust those that are different."

Something that Sherlock likely had experience with, after all. And if she sounded bitter and reached up to tug at her hijab? Well, she understood, too.

"You are good, though. And yes. It's a broadsword. And is here on the ship. I still take the time to practice with it as often as I can."

[nerves_of_steel]

John had been half-watching Faiza as Sherlock began his spiel, but his attention was entirely on Sherlock by the end.

"That's fantastic," he said, words accompanied by the breath of a laugh. It felt...unreasonably good, to be saying those words again. Like turning a key in a lock, and all sorts of other similes that made him a bit glad that he didn't have his blog anymore, because Sherlock would make merciless fun of him if he put them up for public consumption. Or, judging by the look in Sherlock's eyes, perhaps he'd let it slide, at least until the next time they argued about John's writing style.

John's face briefly twisted in unhappy agreement at Faiza's words about humanity's reaction to those who were different, his eyes darkening. But he shoved that back and away again -- now was not the time to dwell on the matter.

"Must be a pretty special sword," he said, tearing his eyes away from Sherlock for a moment, though his hand had moved again to rest on the other man's ankle.

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock's face practically lit up at John's 'fantastic,' and again, he didn't seem to mind that his friend's hand was on him, simply lying there, relaxed, hands folded over his chest. He had gone from looking panicked (and stabbed) when he'd first been brought in, to looking quite relaxed now, as if he felt that all was right with the world.

"People with powers like you are ostracized, aren't they? That is what people do, after all. Whenever something makes them feel remotely inadequate, they try to find ways to tear it down and destroy it."

[couldputitback]

Faiza nodded. "Oh, aye, though most people would probably be fine with my powers. I wasn't born with them, after all." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I've never understood why people have an issue with mutants, whose powers manifest in their teens and those of us who get our powers from other means later in our lives, but they do. It's not like we can't have dangerous powers, too."

She made a sound at the back of her throat, then shook her head and looked to John. The smile was back in place and absolutely real. "It is a very special sword. You may have heard of it, since Mr. Holmes didn't." Because Sherlock had strange ideas of what was useful to know. "Excalibur. Not the only magic sword in my world, but probably the best known. And you--" She pointed to Sherlock. "Don't give me any grief about how magic isn't real. If you can accept people in my world having strange powers, you can accept that, at least in my world, magic is real."

[nerves_of_steel]

John blinked at her a couple of times, mouth falling open a bit.

"Excalibur," he repeated. "The Excalibur. The actual Excalibur."

He wasn't sure if she was having him on or if she was telling the truth. It was hardly less plausible than anything else she had shared with them today.

"...Dr. Hussain," he concluded finally, "you are a very remarkable woman."

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock chose right then to let out a long-suffering sigh.

"There's that nausea again," he commented.

[couldputitback]

"It's likely to be there for a while. At least until your blood is back to acceptable levels." Faiza didn't roll her eyes, but it was a near enough thing. It was going to take time to see if that was a signal that Sherlock wasn't getting enough attention, but she would have made book on it.

"Anyway. I'll go and make us all a cuppa. You'll feel better for having something warm, too." She smiled at John. "And we can talk about Excalibur another time. I'll even show it to you."

[nerves_of_steel]

John, being far more used to both Sherlock and his all-encompassing need to be the center of attention, did roll his eyes. He gave Faiza a two-parts grateful and one-part apologetic smile.

"Thank you, that'd be lovely." He grimaced hopefully. "Sherlock takes his with milk and two, if that's even remotely possible?" He gave her his very best "so sorry to be a bother but I'd be ever so grateful if you could make this happen" look, which he had been assured was somewhat devastating to the average heterosexual woman (though sadly, it had little to no effect on Sherlock).

"And if there's anything I could do for you here," he adds, "I'm fairly certain that it is the proper duty of every British subject to come to the aid of the wielder of Excalibur, so please don't hesitate to ask."

[on_your_nerves]

They were still flirting and he wasn't able to ruin it so Sherlock resigned himself to sulking furiously. As much as someone could sulk while they lay there with their hands folded over their chest. Somehow, it managed to be quite a lot of it.

[couldputitback]

"As long as they know what Excalibur is, at least." And that was a very slight tease directed toward Sherlock. Faiza smiled, bending her head to John. "I'll see what I can pull together. I'll be back with your cuppas soon as I can."

With that, she took her leave. Tea took time, after all.