@rogabitque >> SECTOR FOUR >> starter call !
as far as each sector of the city went, i doubt whether sherlock holmes preferred one over another, for each of the separate boulevards were, in their own way, chaotic. there seemed to be little order to them, despite the obvious segregation of greenery from industrial, culture from crime. but even in that, the lines grew too blurred upon occasion, with crime leaking into almost each of the sectors regardless, and with the sour attitude of the criminal portion bleeding right through into even the allocated ‘ green ‘ sector. but they had their focal points at least, a reason to go should you feel the need. whilst so much of his time was spent within the four walls of his apartment, pulling back within his armchair and thinking, calling people up upon the provided wired telephone should he ever really need to ask something, there were a few things which did prompt holmes to leap from his chair and abandon the apartment at his leisure. there was always so much to do in the city, what with the abundance of criminal activity, the mysteries of the worlds beneath the surface, then of course the chaos the people themselves created out of mere existence, the providing of abilities and conflicts that could only happen when such forces combined together. it was akin to heeding his master’s call within the promise of a fight, that breed of immediate alert & action the very same, but on a much larger scale.
the concert hall was a rather small sort when compared to the grand scale of the apartment blocks and other establishments. i recall looking upwards and noticing how the buildings to shoulder it leaned inward, as if to corner the musical centre and establish some form of dominance. it was a pretty building; white stone and marble with detailed images of the arts etched into the front. the door was heavy, oak wood suggesting that the design was more archaic than the structures of the modern world truly were, with their glass roofs and circular designs. it was a classic picture, one which holmes seemed to be rather fond of. perhaps it reminded him of a time when he’d visit the orchestras of london, when he’d steal himself away for several hours without so much as a word, to sit within the audience and relish in the sounds he enjoyed the most. he bought a ticket and entered the venue, cane clicking against the steps as he went, until his feet met with regal crimson rugs and the feel of the theatre washed over him. he was a man for idly remembering forgotten, halcyon eras, but he felt rather closer to home walking the halls of the place, admiring the decor as he went.
he had taken a seat towards the front of the action, the orchestra only moments away from beginning their set. i recall looking across, witnessing how already holmes seemed so well within his element, eyes half-lidded and smile creeping easily upon his features. he seemed relaxed, comforted by the presence of so many musical instruments, and when the conductor finally began, i swear i could have heard that erratic heartbeat of his pounding through his chest.
it was on the steady promise of the string’s coda which the pretty scene of the orchestra came to a sudden and surprising close. whereas folks had been merry in their audience of the great music, there was suddenly fear across all of the faces of those present, concern etched into their expressions with women clutching their bags and the gentlemen rising to their feet in an instant. a wicked scream had ripped through the venue, loud enough to silence the conductor from his work as he too spun around wildly with eyes so full of terror. it was, in moments such as those peaceful and pleasurable ones, that one was not a fool to forget the true horror of their situations, to release their pre-existing notions of concern and fear, to embrace more neutral or even positive expressions; the elation and happiness which music provides a certain distraction to say the least. but right there, in that very moment, all peace was stolen away and that same worry which plagued them previously, only returned posthaste.
the servant was first upon his feet, his comforting musical experience shattered but the cogs of his mind already spinning. “ stay here, i’ll see to the guards by the door. “ the people of the concert hall were all too happy to let someone else intervene, to let someone unknown chance a look beyond the door, holmes ran up the spiral stairway and back into the main corridor where was greeted not by the same doormen as before, but by flickering lamps and swaying shades. armed only with his cane, he proceeded slowly down the passage, eyes flickering to and fro as he stepped out into the grand lobby. he found, instead of a group of confused attendants, a gathering of strangers all pressed close to the closed door. beyond it, a blank, dark sky of evening. “ what’s happened? “ holmes interjected, approaching the group in good time. but instead of receiving much of a verbal explanation, one of the civilians pointed beyond the window. there, with its eyes a bright a yellow as flickering gold, prowled a wolf far larger than natural. a beast with ruby rivers staining the front of its matted fur.
several of the company present inhaled short, worried breaths. a few others remained with their palms pressed tight against their lips, whilst the others shuffled from the door and exchanged worried glances. there was, however, one other who seemed to possess a slightly less-pale expression, one whom after holmes had glanced over, appeared to be of some recognisable sort. in fact, very much so! “ ser bedivere, what an odd time for us to meet again. “ for indeed, the situation was most peculiar. reconnecting with other servants at a time such as this, well, it seemed almost scripted as if an author had penned it to be so. “ i suppose it was inevitable, given the circumstances, just not these in particular, i must say. “ he seemed rather too lax for the scenario at hand, but it wasn’t as if a simple swing of a sword or shot of a pistol could render the beast unable to fight. so instead holmes smartened his waistcoat and took to lighting a cigarette. “ was it you who screamed so terribly just now? one might’ve easily mistaken it for a piece of the opera. “ perhaps it was no time for comedy, but he was immune to the casualties of his dark humour even at the best of times after all.
