Sherlock Holmes [BBC] (
on_your_nerves) wrote in
trans_92012-04-17 01:51 am
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Zombie Strippers From Mars [open to anyone that'd have an excuse to be in Medbay]
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.
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.
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Shoutarou steps in, then takes a seat in one of the bedside chairs. He pulls his hat off, and toys with it in his hands for a moment. "Given all your talk about wanting interesting cases, Mister Holmes, I don't think you were planning on becoming one." From what he's done since they parted ways - taking care of Kerrigan, hunting down John - finding out that this was the same guy he had that discussion with on the comms had a bit of...well, he wouldn't say poetic justice, but it was certainly an interesting coincidence.
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"Sherlock Holmes?"
She greeted him with a smile, holding out her hand when she got close enough to reach him.
"I'm Elisa Maza."
And she'd brought him a book from the libraries of Castle Wyvern, just in case.
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This was a little hard to digest for someone whose primary exposure to him had been re-runs of Famous Detective Holmes, but maybe that was for the best. The personality of the man himself seemed very, very different from the canine version.
Nevertheless, she had offered to get him reading material and tea, so that was what she had done, carrying a PADD full of information on criminolgy and forensics scattered from 2012 to 2370, veering off into the methods of various Earths-to-be. She also had a small thermos of tea--one sugar, unfortunately. It didn't take long to find him, given the lack of other bedbound patients. "Excuse me, Mr. Holmes? My name is Fuu--we talked over the omnicomm."
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As he wanders past Sherlock's bed, he's doing the latter, completely engrossed in his workings.
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But as usual, she was trying to do five things at once. She'd diverted to the Library, grabbed a media reader and loaded it with every non-fiction documentary she could find that looked like it would be interesting to a very smart human - histories of spaceflight, bio-engineering, faster-than-light communication, and so on. But when she got into Med Bay, the patient she'd grabbed it for already had a reader.
"Oh, I guess you're all set then?" she asked, holding out the reader a little.
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There's a guy with a sword on his back who's come to check on you Mr. Holmes. His reassuring smile is still fairly evident through the mask that covers his whole head except for his eyes. Most people that roam around armed aren't capable of pulling off a good bedside manner but clearly this guy is the exception to the rule.
"How're you feeling?"
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