Meatship Mystery Meet N' Greet

[on_your_nerves]

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 Books were scattered all over, though they were hopelessly out of date in regards to modern science.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.]

Comments

Closed to Elle

[on_your_nerves]

[quixotically]

Elle's exploring. Again. She just... doesn't know what to do with herself. Besides, maybe she will stumble on something that'll provide more clues, like Sherlock was looking into. Or, you know, someplace with things to scavenge. Like this house. There's a part of her that feels guilty, but it doesn't seem like this place has been visited in a while... she thinks... so... Hey, fair's fair, right? Nothing is labeled in red yet!

When she hears the footsteps and looks up, she's in the middle of pocketing a... well, a... whatever. It's crystal and sciencey and that's about as far as she can tell, but it looks terribly useful, whatever it is, so --

She almost drops it when she sees Sherlock in the doorway. Wearing a bedsheet. And just a bedsheet, as far as she could tell. She squeaks in surprise and sheer... awkward-ness.

[on_your_nerves]

"Put. That. Back."

This was his stuff. Sort of. Almost.

Whatever the case, he found himself incredibly incensed by someone messing around with this flat when it was the closest thing he had to home.

[quixotically]

Elle moves quickly to replace it, though she manages to catch herself and makes sure to carefully set it down.

"S-Sorry, I -- Well -- I -- " She's too flustered (and maybe ashamed?) to articulate properly. "Sorry."

[on_your_nerves]

"Why are you engaging in petty theft? The ship provides most of the things we need."

Said the man who stole government IDs like they were pens at the office.

[quixotically]

"It... Survival-enforced habit?" she offers, voice feeble. "I mean, where I'm from, you have to scavenge to survive, and while this, uh, thingy," she gestures to the crystal sciencey thing, "doesn't quite count, it'd still be useful for trade, and prospecting -- er, scavenging things to sell for caps is... well. Stimpaks are nice to keep handy when everything in the Mojave can kill you, and they're expensive."

She's not entirely sure that made any sense.

"Sorry," she says again, just in case.

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and seemed about to say something else, but then? Right then the door opened.

Arrival Threads - Main Free-For-All [Open to all]

[on_your_nerves]

Thanks to Elle, by the times the others arrived, Sherlock still wasn't dressed.

[thisclinchesit]

RIIIDEERRR ENTRANCE

Given the nature of the message on the comms, Shoutarou did not bother with knocking on the door. This will prove to have been a bad idea - or at least, the cause of a rather awkward situation.

The sight presented to him here gives Shoutarou pause, and a surprised look on his face as he recoils slightly. One hand goes up to his hat, and his head tips down. The brim hides his eyes, and he coughs. "...this isn't quite what I expected, Mr. Holmes."

oh yeah, keep this one to one thread. The mingling one is for subthreads.

[on_your_nerves]

"It was either this or wearing just a smile," he commented flatly, without any hesitation, wrapping the sheets more tightly around himself.

Then he explained, "Before you start flattering yourself or suspecting me of exhibitionism, keep in mind I was taking a nap before I wrote the message and I was going to get dressed before anyone arrived but she came into my flat before I even posted it and has been distracting me ever since."

[quixotically]

Elle goes even more red than she thought she could possibly be. "Sorry," she squeaks feebly.

[doctorbatman]

Doc has the feeling he's just walked in on something that's probably innocuous, but terribly suggestive and therefore likely much funnier out of context.

He just archs his brows as he slips into the room behind Shoutarou with typical ninja-like grace, clearing his throat with a half laugh.

"Ah, we must be early."

[thedetectiveprince]

Elle wasn't the only one who was blushing. Naoto didn't know exactly what she had been expecting, but it wasn't to see someone she considered an idol, even if he wasn't quite exactly the same version of the man she knew, wearing bedsheets like a sort of toga.

"A-aaah," she managed to stutter, pushing her cap over her head even more. It was a shame, really, as she was missing on the fine Victorian decor which would have reminded her more of the version she had read so much about. "I-i apologize for arriving so quickly. S-should w-we come back at a later time?"

[jackalpi]

Shortly after Naoto arrives, Spinelli does as well, politely knocking on the door the door before sticking his head inside. "Gracious greetings! Would this be the domicile to which we have been..."

He trailed off, taking in the various reactions of the others around the room. Eventually, though, he caught sight of Sherlock in the sheet, which was decidedly not what he had been expecting. "Oh! Deepest apologies, but perhaps the Jackal has misunderstood the location that was given on the Omnicomm. This is 221 Baker Street, residence of the Most Astute Sherlock Holmes, is it not?"

[thisclinchesit]

A sigh, a hat adjustment, and a quick turn on his heel puts Shoutarou facing Spinelli, McNinja, and Naoto. He nods in greeting to the latter two. "Doctor, Miss Shirogane." He then shrugs a bit at Spinelli. "It's the right place, but it appears our host is currently lacking in clothing."

[on_your_nerves]

"I was taking a nap and was going to get dressed before you all arrived, but I was delayed."

And apparently he liked to nap in the nude.

"I just have to go to my room to get dressed. I'll be with you all shortly."

Sherlock turned to walk away--without realizing Elle was standing on the edge of his sheet.

Much like he'd done in the palace when Mycroft had stepped on his sheet, he nearly tripped over his own feet. Mercifully, he felt the sheet slipping before it actually slipped away and he managed to cast his suit jacket around his waist just in time to preserve his dignity, looking utterly mortified.

Maybe, in the future, he needed to rethink this whole wandering around in naught by a bed-sheet thing, even if he was doing it in the comfort of his own flat.

[thedetectiveprince]

W-w-well that had certainly been...a thing. A thing that made Naoto somehow even reader and she almost wished that the ground could eat her up at that moment. She tried to cough to lower the tension, but only managed to produce a half one.

"U-um, p-perhaps we should wait outside..."

[quixotically]

Elle makes a terrified squeak as Sherlock almost makes a tumble, reflexively reaching out to grab his arm to try and help. It's only afterwards does she realize if he didn't have the jacket...

... she can't do anything right today, can she?

She hopes the floor will open up and swallow her.

[jackalpi]

"Ah! You have my most gracious thanks for the information." Spinelli's head disappeared from the doorway, only to reappear along with the rest of him as he slipped inside...just in time to witness the sheet debacle.

Holding up a finger, his mouth opened, but nothing came out. He winced, grimacing faintly, then stepped to the side in case anyone did wish to wait outside. He didn't say anything else, figuring keeping his mouth shut would at least let Sherlock keep a small amount of what was left of his dignity.

[on_your_nerves]

"I--you--" he stuttered to Elle.

Then, without another word, suit jacket wrapped carefully around his waist, Sherlock inhaled deeply through his nose, as if to calm himself down, then darted away into his room, slamming the door shut, presumably to get dressed.

He was possibly also hiding until his embarrassment dissipated a little.

[nerves_of_steel]

Downstairs, John looked up at the sound of a slamming door and heaved a sigh. Sherlock was in a strop about something, lovely. He took the steps at a measured pace, stomping a bit so that Sherlock could throw something on if he was still starkers, and pushed open the door to the flat.

"...Er," he said, blinking owlishly at the absolute crowd of people in attendance. "Sorry, what are you all doing in here?"

[thisclinchesit]

"We were called here to compare notes and meet our fellow investigators, I suppose," Shoutarou answers, then jerks his head toward the now-closed door. "Though it seems we all arrived too early."

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock came out of the room finally, looking...mildly distressed but more composed.

He was fully dressed this time.

And he opted for completely ignoring what had just happened, instead of pretending that nothing embarrassing had happened at all.

"I wanted to determine their incompetence," Sherlock said, and then he remembers Goliath's threats about how he spoke to his detective girlfriend and while she didn't appear to be in the room, it was enough to try to train himself out of the habit of being as insulting honest. "Competence. I wanted to determine their levels of competence."

He adjusted his suit jacket's sleeves.

"It's not exactly meant to be a social call. If we're all going to be working together..."

He did need to know who he could count on to let him into their case, like Lestrade, who wouldn't, like some of the other officers besides Lestrade, and who he'd wind up having to tolerate while despising the entire time, like Anderson and Donovan.

[quixotically]

Oh. Elle really does have the best worst timing in the world, doesn't she? She tries her hardest to become a chameleon (she read about those in a Pre-War book once) and blend in with the wallpaper. Not only did she get caught stealing something from someone she wanted to be friends with, but it happened to be on a day there was a social -- er, official gathering. A glance over at the door and the path to it proves that sliding out without making a ruckus or otherwise catching attention wouldn't quite work. She's just going to have to wait.

Whatever happened to my good luck? she thinks miserably.

Mingling [Open. Mingling subthreads can go here]

[on_your_nerves]

Now that people were in his flat, he couldn't just kick them all out. Well, he could, but he did have some compunctions about causing damage to working relationships on very rare occasion.

That meant they were free to talk to each other.

Shoutarou

[thisclinchesit]

So for a moment while no one's speaking to him directly, Shoutarou is checking out the room. It's rather interesting, though maybe a bit too retro for his tastes. The bullet holes are curious, though, and draw his attention.

Re: Shoutarou

[doctorbatman]

"Cripes, this place is like a time capsule." Doc whistles low as he examines the damage over Shoutarou's shoulder, his hands folded behind his back out of instinct. He feels like he's in a museum despite himself.

"This ship never fails to surprise me. I thought I'd be over that by now."

[thisclinchesit]

"Yeah... Didn't think they'd take stuff from, well. I'd say fictional worlds, but here we are," he answers, attention turned to one of the older books. Not his kind of stuff to read, but Philip would have a field day with the stuff in here.