Zombie Strippers From Mars [open to anyone that'd have an excuse to be in Medbay]

[on_your_nerves]

Faffing about on his omnicom had Sherlock mildly entertained for a bit, but it didn't last long. Five minutes into the movies John had brought, the consulting detective had slumped back on his Medbay bed insisting that movies were boring (because everything was boring at the moment) and demanding to be knocked unconscious until he was allowed to leave. When John pointed out that injuring him further was slightly counterproductive in regards to him getting out of Medbay, he went into a world-class sulk.

It wasn't so much that he was bored as the fact he was bored and there was an entire spaceship to go poking and prodding around in. The boredom was multiplied and magnified by the fact that there were things to do, advancements in forensic science (and biology and chemistry...) he could read about and so on.

There could be zombies somewhere! Actual living, breathing zombies! Never mind the part where zombies weren't alive and didn't breathe.

At first, the crime rate--or lack thereof--had had him worried this whole venture would be hopelessly tiresome, but apparently, there was more going on than met the eye. (Zombies!)

After his "your movies are boring" based tantrum, John had been in and out of the Medbay, taking advantage of Sherlock's little fit of petulant disinterest in anything but leaving to go prod around the ship himself.

Nothing to do. The whole ship was out there waiting for Sherlock. And where was that tea he asked for from that random stranger? He'd conveniently kept the biscuits given to him by that other random stranger.

"Zombie strippers. Honestly."

At this point, he was fairly certain John selected one-third of the movies they watched because of the explosions in them, one-third because they involved some sort of historical warfare, and the last one-third because of how much he thought Sherlock was going to yell at the screen. Of course, toss in the ones John watched because the actresses in them were attractive and it messed up all the proportions.

Comments

[thisclinchesit]

There's a nod. "Yeah. It'd been kept under control until now, but..." he sighs, slumping in the chair now. "I suppose what happens to her is Command's call. For now, though, she's brigged. Who knows, maybe someone will come out of the pods that can help with that kind of thing."

A beat passes.

"...gotta say, you're taking it oddly well, all things considered."

[on_your_nerves]

"What could I possibly hope to gain by being ruled by my emotions when dealing with this situation? After what happened to her and because of who is responsible for it," the Daligig, but he wasn't saying their name aloud, "It all calls for logic and rationality. For now, I can't let my personal feelings cloud my judgement. That's what they're depending on, the crew being such a muddled mess, rife with infighting, that we're incapable of discerning anything or doing anything we need to."

He looked up at the ceiling, mulling things over.

"That's not to say that I'm not absolutely furious," especially about the intrusion into his mind, "but I've faced others who've had much more hostile intentions towards me."

Considering that Kerrigan'd had enough hostility to stab him thirteen times, that was saying something.

[thisclinchesit]

There's a nod. "All good points. A lot of people could stand to take a lot of that to heart," himself included, but he wasn't gonna admit that. The last comment gets a bit of a chuckle, though. "Given what happened here, gotta admit I'm curious as to how you survived them."

[on_your_nerves]

"There was a girl. She...did something. With water. It stabilized me long enough to be brought here, where Dr. Hussein used her own powers to heal me."

An altogether bewildering experience to someone with no experience with metahumans until now.

"Her power is absolutely fascinating. She can deconstruct organic beings and keep them alive and conscious through the process."

Most would not really call that "fascinating," especially in conjunction with it being used on themselves.

[thisclinchesit]

And considering the only other instance Shoutarou has heard of such a thing was Punishment...well, that explains his awkward shift and straightening. And maybe a little bit of a shudder. "...huh." Quick, focus on something else... "Kaya, that's her name. The water-girl."

[on_your_nerves]

"I suppose I'll have to thank her."

There was an odd expression on his face, like he wasn't used to people wanting to help him and was even less used to thanking them for it.

[thisclinchesit]

There's a small snort of laughter from Shoutarou. "Well, generally that's what you do when someone keeps you from dying, yes."

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock frowned slightly. "It's not really a common situation. I don't usually make a habit of nearly dying." Not that he didn't get into deadly peril on a regular basis, but he rarely came that close. "Nor do others usually make a habit of caring whether or not I do."

He could count the people who cared whether he lived or died on one hand. The rest of the world had wanted to see him fall.

[thisclinchesit]

Shoutarou relaxes a bit in his chair, and folds his arms loosely. "Well, on this ship, we're all in a rough situation together. Most of us look out for each other, whether we know each other very well or not."

[on_your_nerves]

"People actually do cooperate here, don't they. That would explain the low murder rate."

Novel.

Boring, but novel.