method of loci

The name is Sherlock Holmes and don't be fooled by the 'ask anything' because I certainly will not answer anything dull. Please refrain from asking how to escape this 'pocket universe' because if I knew, I would have already done it by now. (Not an independent blog!)

[thealastair-moore]

Is anyone there?

“Hello?”

[deaducing]

Hello. Alright, now that that’s out of the way, are you more familiar with demons or aliens? I realise it’s an odd question, but it’s actually very helpful.

[mycroftholmesworld]

You already admitted it with that sentence so it’s too late now. 

You disappeared for one month Sherlock: What happened?

[deaducing]

No it isn’t. You don’t know how I was supposedly ‘wrong’.

Since you’ve already snooped through my blog, why don’t you go back and read for yourself so I don’t have to repeat it?

[torchwoodshead]

I get stuck below deck,

and I come back to find that not only has Sherlock Holmes returned, but Owen Harper as well?

Can’t say it’s my lucky day, but glad to have you both back.

[deaducing]

Can’t say it’s glad to be back, but here we are. Where exactly did you get stuck? I realise there’s many rooms below deck, but I didn’t think you would get lost in any of them.

[thetruequeenofpurgatory]

Signature look? I thought you were famous for that ugly hat and pipe. See, now, I thought we were over the lying dear. I’ve been all throughout that below deck I never once scented you.

[deaducing]

I wouldn’t be caught dead in that fashion disaster. Not again, anyway. If you don’t believe me, fine, I don’t really care. It was a respite from the likes of you, at least.

[themarkofdeanwinchester]

Didn’t think you were dead. At least, not til I heard there was a skeleton with your name practically written on it. But something more dramatic maybe for the Sherlock Holmes. Is that sarcasm I’m sensing? I’m hurt. 

[deaducing]

Trying not to be so dramatic, actually. Though I must admit, I do like the fact that a plastic skeleton fooled the lot of you. It’s rather amusing.

[melodyinthesong]

Well, look who decided to show his handsome face around here again - Sherlock Holmes, glad you decided to rejoin us. Oh, now, do you really need a coat and scarf in this heat?

[deaducing]

Now that is what I would call a pleasant welcome back. No, I don’t need them, but seeing as they’re the only pair I’ve got, I would like them back before I do need them again. Besides, they don’t exactly go with anyone else here.

[mycroftholmesworld]

I always tell you that I worry about you constantly. However, you should pay attention to what I say and not to what people say about me. I told you: I have them. But, go to John to have your clothes back because I’m going to give them to him. And I hope you will decide to be a grown up and tell me what happened to you. 

[deaducing]

Right, I’ll do that, then. I don’t think I’ll be doing that any time soon as it would have me admitting I was wrong.

[thetruequeenofpurgatory]

Aren’t we in the middle of what you call summer? Why do you need a coat and a scarf. Impeccable style? Try more like a roasting oven. Oh and welcome back Darling. Where’d you go?

[deaducing]

I don’t need them but seeing as they’re mine, I’d like to have them back. They’re sort of my signature look. I was below deck and that’s all you need to know.

[mycroftholmesworld]

I don’t sound so upset because, as you just said, I’m used to it, I searched for you for over a year before finding you here. About my reaction and what you were told, I guess you are talking about Moriarty, he doesn’t know me and you should know better. Perhaps you will tell me what happened, where you have been. But, why aren’t you asking where your clothes were? You already know or you are just not interested? 

[deaducing]

No, it wasn’t just him. You must have shown more emotion than usual if people are telling me that you were worried sick. Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. Apparently they were used in some prank that I was thought to be involved in so yes, I know what happened to them. I just don’t know who’s got them now.

[doctorowenharpermd]

You & Me & A Boat Makes ?? || Sherlock / Owen

[doctorowenharpermd]

That blurted question was enough to lure Owen off topics of intimacy.  Brown eyes softened from their cynical default, a crack in his armour for a few heartbeats as he viewed Sherlock’s face as the detective sought to cover his slip of the tongue.  It was enough to win him over, and there was a glimpse of a smile absent of the medic’s typical brand of sardonic humour.  For this passing moment there was only sincerity in the warmth of his expression.  “Yeah.  Who said?  Probably an idiot, I’d wager.”

At least Sherlock had that reassurance.  Owen being too clouded for memories of this conversation to stick.  When he had a clearer head then they’d surely try this again.  With luck, the medic wouldn’t repeat the same errors of loose tongue and failing wit.  Or being nearly so handsy as he was.  He swayed back from that other lean figure to provide space, tuning in upon the fact that the other man wasn’t showing many encouraging signs to invite more of his affection.  Trying to make an effort to behave himself.  Especially when there was a Whale-Thing probably looking on with its Whale Death Eyes.  Or whatever it had.

“Sleep sounds good.  So smart, so clever.”  He satisfied himself with patting appreciative fingers at a lean shoulder as he mumbled that praise.  “I’ll probably sleep better than I have in months.  Only….” Owen closed fingers on the hem of Sherlock’s shirt.  A grip not unlike a child’s, clutching.  “You can’t jus’ put me t’bed and then ditch me there.  You’ll stay, right?  In the room at least.  Until I do fall asleep.”

There was enough pride intact in him that Owen succeeded in voicing that as more command than appeal.  He even fell off the track of that innuendo despite the sword’s presence continuing to distract his attention downwards.  His hands peeled off of Sherlock as the medic’s face lifted to squint up at the moon.  Just how long had he been out there drinking, anyway?  Fingers passed through his hair, distracted by his thoughts again, before he nodded.  “Time to sleep this off.  Doctor’s orders.  You’ll probably have t’help me get down below so I don’t go fallin’ in.  It’d be shitty to get myself killed in a drunken stupor.”

[deaducing]

Just as he hadn’t been expecting an extended heart-felt reunion with the man, Sherlock also wasn’t surprised that he would have to help him through his inebriated state as well. It was no secret that the drink was a favourite past time and so he was used to it, even fondly remembering the first time they had met and falling asleep on the floor of the pocket’s bizarre fun house. The context was vastly different now, as he had the clear mind to actually get Owen to a comfortable bed rather than an uncomfortable wooden floor, but he could appreciate the similarities between the two situations. Though he’d been gone for a while, he imagined that John hadn’t found someone else to share the room with - or was hopefully optimistic as there was no one else he would agree to stay the duration of their time on the ship with and was sure there were some people who felt the same way about him.

At the tug on his shirt, he raised a brow, surprised at Owen’s insistence that he stay in the room until he fell asleep. He hardly saw the point in doing so if all he was going to do was sit quietly so that sleep could happen, but if it would make the other comfortable, he had no objections. “I’ll stay,” he answered with a convincing nod, mostly because there wasn’t much else to do on the boat and though it might not have been the most thrilling activity, at least it was with someone he didn’t mind spending company with. “I’m sure it won’t take very long anyway.” Based on how quickly he had fallen asleep curled up next to the medic the first time, it should indeed take no time.

He absentmindedly smoothed out his clothing after the handsy attack on them, giving a laugh at both Owen’s request and his worry of falling off of the deck. He would have to make a huge effort in order to actually fall into the water, but was clearly worried about it enough to have to ask for assistance. “Fine, just...here.” Reaching for the man’s hand, he gripped it in his own, thinking it to be the easiest way to get below deck without any accidents, not that it was a very long journey in the first place though there were stairs, which had to be Owen’s biggest enemy at the moment. “Watch your step, it is dark.” 

The task of getting back down to the rooms was simple enough with only mild hiccups. Pushing open the door to his - John’s - room, he was nearly relieved that the doctor wasn’t there or he would have some explaining to do, of which he wasn’t sure he could even accomplish. My dead long-lost sort-of thing showed up and needs to sleep off a bender. That sounded complicated enough to understand himself; he could only imagine having to explain it to someone else. Leading Owen inside and directing him to his own bed, he closed the door behind them. “Think you can make it into the bed by yourself?” he asked, despite already pulling the duvet down.

[deaducing]

The Lost World | Sherlock & Irene

[ascandalinthepocket-blog]

The overwhelming wave of emotions that hit The Woman was slowly going from being a complete, tangled mess, to a messier disaster that should make her unable to think straight. Her first impulse had been to touch him, and though it had been repressed, the tingle on her fingers urging her to do as they commanded was still there. And with his every word, it only got worse…

Until she didn’t want just to touch him to make sure he was there. She was dying to slap that pretty face of his.

It wasn’t that  bad at first. His sarcasm was highly unappreciated, specially remembering how empty her stomach was and how dangers can a dominatrix be when she’s not in the best of moods. Yet, the his position as for how long he had been gone caught her with her guard down. “A day?” Irene’s frustration slowly began to fade into comprehension as she realized the meaning of those words. The first logical assumption she reached just as she finished musing that small repetition was some sort of memory loss, but as she was trying to get the best way of explaining that he had been gone for weeks, the rest of what she’d later qualify as ‘verbal vomit’ and ‘trashy manners’ caught her complete attention.

Oh, that laugh could have been as well a written petition for her to shove her fist down his throat, and she would have accepted gladly. She would be willing to sacrifice her perfect nails for such a noble cause. Instead, she bit her lips and lowered her gaze. The dominatrix’s face was illegible for a minute as she made a small decision right there, the only thing giving her away was her mutism. Since when did the fierce Irene Adler allowed anyone else to speak to her that way without an instant comeback?

She rose her eyes to him once again, and they shone in a way that talked about something very deep inside of her, breaking. There was no mask over her porcelain face this time, she didn’t even need it.

“We thought you were dead.” The way she said those five simple words made it sound as an insult, and though Irene didn’t mean to spit them that way, they reflected exactly how she felt, and she was not taking it back. “You disappeared for a month, Holmes. Not for a day.”

Practically snatching her phone back, the woman allowed her words to sink into his ears for as long as he needed to. She still trusted he was wise enough to understand and not ask again, even if for a moment she thought she was too optimistic. 

She fixed a lock of her hair behind her ear as she said so, the new length became a little uncomfortable when she looked up again. “John, Gwen Cooper, your brother, even Jim Moriarty and many others were looking for you, but we were only fools, weren’t we? We were worried to death, while you were just too busy playing hide and seek in an empty room.” Of course Irene was aware that there had been another reason for him to be gone for such a long time, but she felt so offended she just couldn’t let this chance of spitting venom slip away. Her glance was intense and it was becoming heavy to breath. What should have been an awkwardly happy reunion became just a sour encounter for her, and she was furious. With him, yes, but mostly with herself. What she had become this last month, the memory of the gray hair on her cup of coffee, and now that he appeared to be offended  because they dared  to care…

She was probably not being fair with him either, after all and for what it seemed, he thought he had been gone for a really short amount of time, but she couldn’t help it. How dared him to be so ungrateful? Didn’t he realize what that meant? She laughed bitterly and shook her head, and as her locks went to the front when she lowered her face again, she sighed; “Sometimes, people are so lucky that they don’t realize they are, and that’s fine, but you are giving it a whole new meaning. I’m starting to believe you don’t deserve it.”

[deaducing]

Irene’s incredulous repeat of how long he had spent in the room made the detective wonder what he had said that was so unbelievable, other than simply stating the amount of time he had been away. Her expression was a perfect match to how she had sounded and he couldn’t yet tell if that was a good or bad thing. Only noticing just then how short her hair was - choppy, not planned or thought out well - he decided to hold off on telling her how it looked since it didn’t seem to be the time or place. She was clearly upset at something or with him, which seemed to be the more likely case, though that wasn’t exactly surprising anymore on both of their accounts. He had been carefully avoiding her on the ship anyway and so couldn’t think of anything he might have done to slight her until she informed him of the reason why.

It was hardly news that people might have thought he was dead and so wasn’t as nearly surprised by her further explanation that he had been gone for one month. There was no possible way he could have lost track of the time and been in the room for that long - he hadn’t even eaten anything and by that logic, shouldn’t have even been able to have the conversation he was currently having. That simple fact could have pointed to Irene being the one who was not telling the truth, which she had been known famously to do and was a major factor in how they met, but with her standing in front of him with such a blazing look in her eye...he was hard-pressed not to believe her. “A month?” he repeated, the burden now being shifted to him but for obviously good reason. “That’s ridiculous. Unless time passes more quickly in that room, either you or I are wrong and I have a very good record.” 

The mention of there being an entire search party being deployed was a further tip-off that Irene was simply making this situation up. Her reason for doing so was still a mystery, but something just didn’t add up somewhere. “It isn’t an empty room and you would see that if you looked inside...” The rebuttal trailed off and eventually stopped as he turned to spare a glance back inside his flat, though rather than it being an exact replica of his abode, the identical shoddy walls and beams that adorned the rest of the ship was hidden behind the door. It seemed much smaller than he remembered and certainly had less rooms, consisting of only the one rather than his kitchen and bedrooms. The only evidence left that he had actually been inside was the sword he had dropped off near the door, sitting exactly where he had placed it. He didn’t even have to go back inside to confirm that the entire thing had been an illusion, one good enough to trick him. He hardly wanted to turn back around to face Irene, not when he couldn’t explain himself or where he had been without coming off as delusional.

This was no time to be projecting disappointment, anger, confusion and whatever accompanying emotions went on with them onto the woman, but she knew exactly how to irk him enough to bring the fall on herself. “Lucky? No, you’re right, I don’t deserve anything of the sort, but you’re sorely mistaken if you think you finding me is ‘lucky’.” Reaching down to pluck the sword from its sitting position, he fastened it around his waist before stepping out of the room, shutting the door with more force than necessary. “I would have found my way out eventually.”

He couldn’t help but look down to Irene through narrowed eyes, unable to stop the flow of a rant at the prospect of being back on the ship again. “But it is oh-so nice to know how much you care. You would be the one to find me, wouldn’t you? Who knows how long I could have spent in there? So thank you, I suppose, for bringing me back on this hellish vacation.” He couldn’t even tell himself whether or not it was genuine, though it was an acknowledgement that Irene was right, which might have been close enough. 

[themarkofdeanwinchester]

Sherlock Holmes returns to the land of the living… and the first thing he asks for are his clothes… Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed. 

[deaducing]

I wasn’t dead but yes, they’re very important to me. What were you expecting, bells and whistles? I’m so very thrilled to be stuck here again with you all.

[mycroftholmesworld]

Here you go again. If we were back in London we would be playing games now. Well, Mummy would have been very upset with you though, this disappearance act is not so nice. About the scarf and coat, I have them, but I was going to give them to John. However, your clothes weren’t in your quarters.

[deaducing]

You don’t sound too upset over this; I was told you would react very differently. It wasn’t an act, if you must know, though you should be used to it by now.

[toshkosato]

Sherlock, you’re here. I mean, when did you return? Yeah, uh, last I saw your coat and scarf they were draped over a skeleton that clearly was not yours since you’re here, well and alive.

[deaducing]

Yesterday, I believe. Been holding off on posting since apparently everyone thought I was dead. The skeleton didn’t help. 

[doctorowenharpermd]

What?  Sherlock Holmes and the Lost Scarf of London?  Sherlock Holmes and the Vanishing Jacket Racket?   Not feeling any of those?

Come on.  I’ll play appropriately awed sidekick for you.  It’ll be fun.

[deaducing]

I don’t understand why they have to be named. Especially with my name in them; it’s redundant.

You can play whoever you’d like as long as we find what we’re looking for. I won’t be saying ‘elementary’ any time soon, however. 

[doctorowenharpermd]

Apparently I’ll need to wait on getting a system organized for myself in there.  So for the time being I’m free to do whatever I want.  At least until someone lets me know exactly what it is I need to be doing around here.

How hard could it be to find them when we’re all stuck on a ship together?  Sherlock Holmes and The Case of The Missing Fashion Accessories.

[deaducing]

I believe the only person that would do that would be you, but alright. Enjoy it while you can.

Stop that.

[gwencopper-deactivated20220731]

I believe you. I know it’s a trick, but you said it felt real and maybe you wanted to stay. I’m just curious and I’m not looking to disappear but maybe some time in a room that doesn’t feel like so much a ship is good for people.

[deaducing]

‘course I wanted to stay, it’s the closest thing to home I’ve come across since being here. And you’re right, it was good enough to fool me. Fine then, I’ll show you where it is.