songerein | [OPEN] A Late March Catchall

Entry tags:

[OPEN] A Late March Catchall

Who: Herlock Sholmes ... and you?
Which: Open Log
Where: Around Reverein (The Wild Harvest, The Communal Garden)
What: Sholmes enjoys some intellectual pursuits in public
Warnings: Threads may include spoilers for GAA/GAA2 and will be marked accordingly. Feel free to opt out or simply write an OOC note in the tag.

A. The Curious Tale of the Man with the Jars

XXnd of March(?), Throughout the Day
The Wild Harvest

[ If one happens to visit the Wild Harvest today, they will find one of its tables has been completely overtaken by a single guest and his clutter: a stack of books*, a (normal) journal, a handful of measuring tools, and--depending on what time you find him--half-eaten plates of food, a sweaty glass of ice water, a cup of tea, or a neglected pint of beer. His overcoat, deerstalker, and leather bag are discarded on the seat next to him, leaving the detective to comfortably study in his rolled shirtsleeves.

However, all of that aside, one may find a mismatched collection of jars to be of much greater interest. Judging by the stubborn residue from their labels, the containers previously held pickles, jams, and spices, but peering into them now will reveal various specimens, living or otherwise: insects, plants, colorful stones, mysterious fluids, one or two familiar orange hate feathers and a few four-leaf clovers. ]

[[ * OOC: This is a random mix from the bookstore. Feel free to make up titles or recognize a volume from your character’s canon if you’d like another excuse to make small talk! ]]

B. The Adventure of the Fickle Fiddler

XXst of March(?), Late Afternoon, Trending into Evening
The Communal Garden

[ Alternately, if one happens to be enjoying a late-day stroll by the communal garden, they will catch the sound of a violin. A few bars of a tune play, followed by a pause, some muttering, and a bowed revision. It's a bit difficult to make out the song or the violinist's actual skill given the choppy progress, but if, by chance, one hails from some variant of Earth and has a keen ear for classical music, they may recognize phrases of Paganini.

Venturing deeper into the garden, one will find the source of the music: a man standing by the pond with a violin tucked under his chin. After bowing out a bar, he bends to write (or erase) notes on the makeshift sheet music paper laid out across a bench. A chorus of singing fish poke up from the depths of the pond to helpfully parrot his melodies. ]

C. WILDCARD

[ Hit me up via PM or discord if you have other business or scenarios you'd like to address with Sholmes! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Simple as that! Now, tell me your dream ... [ Sholmes props his chin on a hand. ] ... and you shall have yourself an equivalent glimpse into the nightly theater of my own brain attic.

[ With his other hand, he pulls down his goggles and, after a few clicks, they glow to life. ] And don't even attempt to lie. These special lenses can detect even the slightest deviation from the truth.

[ Really ... ? ]

[She backs up as the goggles power on! They're a bit unnerving, especially with Shomes's claim about their ability.]

Y-ya even got sometin' that can do that?! [Considering the impossible things Iris has invented... She really doesn't know what to think.] No way... It ain't like I'm gonna lie anyhow. 'Onest!

[She gives a sigh. She might as well get on with it! ...But she also realizes, even if she can't lie, that can't stop her from just not telling the whole story.]

Wotever. I'll just tell ya and get it done.

[She looks off to the side and fiddles with a fry in her hands as she speaks.]

In a lot of me dreams, I'm just stuck in a room. I 'ear a bunch o' noises, but I can't get the door open, no matter 'ow much I try at it. [She briefly glances down into the remains of her fish and chips.]

...An' then before I know it, I'm awake. That's about all there is to it.

[ The irises of his goggles rotate slowly as he considers the description. He suppresses a wince as he considers the unfortunate parallels between Gina's experience in the McGilded case and the disrespectful handling of Gregson's remains. ]

Is it a small, claustrophobic space by any chance?

[ He flags a passing waitress and requests a pot of tea and two cups before turning back to Gina. ]

What kind of sounds are they?

....Right full o' questions, aren't ya...

[She should have known it wouldn't be over so easily. She guesses she could try to give him some answers. Her arms cross as she slowly nods along.]

It's cramped alright. Barely even a room. What of it?

[She feigns indifference, even as she feels a slight shudder. Then she looks more troubled as she tries recalling what she heard.]

Just... just sounds of people. Some coves talkin', yellin'... M-mighta been a gunshot somewhere in there... [She adds that more softly as she trails off.]

Ha! I'd make a very poor detective if I wasn't bursting at the seams with questions! [ He chuckles at the absurdity before his tone returns to something more contemplative. ]

The situation sounds familiar, doesn't it? Concealing oneself in cramped spaces? Mr. Naruhodo in a ship cabin wardrobe, Judge Jigoku in his steamer trunk, Mr. Drebber in his safe--

[ Before he can mention more relevant examples, the waitress interrupts with the requested tea and Sholmes expresses his thanks. ] Where was I? Ah, yes! What an unenviable position, to be backed into a dark hole, hidden from unknown danger, but for how long?

[That wily Sholmes! But that actually is a good think to note down for herself. A detective always asks questions!

She sits there nervously as he goes through the examples, as if expecting to hear one involving her, but he stops first. Still, one of those examples makes her raise an eyebrow.]

Wait, 'Oddo was in a wardrobe...? [That's news to her! She supposes he can imagine him fitting himself into one, like some kind of strange cat. In any case, she's not sure if she should be relieved or not that he never brought hers up. She just tries to answer her question, while quickly chewing down some more of her food.]

Fer long enough! I don't get out once in the 'ole dream, no matter 'ow much I bang and 'oller at the door. So there ain't much to talk about. I couldn't do a single thing, and it's not like I could even 'ave a butcher's at wot 'appened to the boss neither. [There, maybe that'll stop him picking at everything she says!]

Oh, indeed. The first time I laid eyes on Mr. Naruhodo, he was curled up like a babe at the bottom of a wardrobe. Easy to assume he was just a humble creature, but my discerning eye immediately recognized nascent greatness in that slumbering brow!

[ Sholmes pours Gina and himself a steaming cup of tea. He's not about the let up on the questions, however: ] The boss? So Inspector Gregson is one of the voices beyond the door?

[She can't help but let out a laugh at that image of Naruhodo. Now that does sound much like him!

The tea does look relaxing... but his question is anything but. Her eyes widen with concern.]

W-wot? 'O told ya that?! [A beat.] ...I did, didn't I.

[She has a lot to learn when it comes to talking to detectives.]

...Yeah. Fine. 'E is.

[ Sholmes flicks a switch and loosens his goggles to hang slack around his neck. ]

Do you know, Inspector, dreams are a vital tool for any detective. I regularly revisit old cases in my sleep--especially those that did not end as expected. The visions may seem redundant, but I often spy something I missed at the time. Some vital insight.

[ He raises the teacup to his lips and mutters, before taking a sip. ] Or I find myself slowly melting in a cauldron of wax. But that only signals that my feet have become too hot and my socks must be removed.

[Ah, at least the goggles are off... that helps her feel a bit more at ease as she weighs over Sholmes's response.]

They are, eh? Didn't know that. ...But o' course, that's all this was! Just, just revisitin' bits o' past cases in me dreams. [There must be nothing deeper to that, Gina's convinced herself for sure.] Dunno wot I'm missin' about it all, though.

[She looks at her own tea and manages to get herself to take a little sip. And she focuses on the example he gives, so she can complain about it instead of thinking about her own dream.]

That better not be yer bad dream! I want sometin' more interestin' to listen to, that's not just about socks!

Yes, I'm certain that's all it was. No deep emotional significance--no hints of grief or helplessness--to be gleaned from it! [ He sets his cup down and leans back in his seat. ]

More interesting? I suppose the one in which I'm shackled to my desk, paying a mountain of bills won't do, will it? Hum.

[ He scratches his temple. ] In that case, I often have dreams that Iris is a tiny thing again. I've lost sight of her, only to glance out the window and find she's crawling across the cobbles of Baker Street with no regard for passing carriages. Meanwhile, when I go to retrieve her, I find the floorboards have turned to a stodgy pudding and I can hardly move my feet.

[ A slight shudder. ] And if my mind is feeling particularly devious, Wagahai looks on, but she's not a cat so much as full-sized Mr. Mustache lounging in a calico costume ... licking himself.

Edited 2022-04-06 18:16 (UTC)

Y-you're right about that! There ain't nuffin' like that in none o' me dreams! [Of course, her defensive tone and the way her voice wavers might make it obvious that she just wants him to think that about her dreams! She shifts uncomfortably and listens to Sholmes's account. First, she's worried on account of Iris.]

'O cares if yer floors are all made o' puddin'?! Iris is just a wee baby an' she's in trouble, ya gotta go after 'er no matter what!!

[She sounds very protective as she orders Sholmes' dream self around, that's for sure! There's no denying that this dream is succeeding in catching her attention. Even if it also includes confusion.]

Mister... Mustache...? [Now that's someone she's never met before.] I dunno 'o that is, but I don't like the way that sounds at all! Why ain't Waggy just 'er normal self?!

Inspector, have you really never stood in a pudding before? [ Said as if this is the most common thing in the world. ] It's nigh impossible to move, even when one's infant flatmate is in mortal danger.

[ Sholmes can barely keep track of his own circle of acquaintances, much less remember who has met whom. Though it might help to refer to people by their actual names? ]

What was his proper name? [ Sholmes mimes twisting the ends of an invisible mustache as if this will jog his memory. ] Ah, yes! Mr. Natsume! Surely you crossed paths with the twitchy Japanese fellow?

Can't say I 'ave. But even if it is that bad of a mess, yer the great detective! If anyone's findin' a way to ball an' chalk in all that, it's you!

[She remains determined on holding Sholmes responsible for saving the Dream Iris! And then she frowns and shakes her head as she thinks over the name.]

Mister... Nuts-oom? Feel like I 'eard the name before, but I know I never met a bloke like that.

Now that you mention it, I suppose I could have eaten my way free? Or simply flapped my arms and took flight. It's a dream, after all. [ He wags a finger at her. ] The next time you find yourself locked in a dark space, you should try the same.

[ Does he mean for her to eat her way out? Or fly? Or is this general advice about exploiting dream freedom? He seems content to leave it up to her own interpretation. ]

Mr. Natsume. [ He pronounces the name again—the syllables are still a bit too crisp and British. At least he's not fighting a cockney accent. ] Wagahai's former owner. He enjoyed a most thorough tour of our nation's judiciary: the poor fellow stood accused of murder not once, but twice! What a harrowing experience!

[ Yes, Sholmes has very carefully forgotten that he had a hand in one of those false arrests. ]

[She started nodding along in agreement, because yeah! Those do sound like some valid solutions that should have occurred to such a great detective! She was ready to say something like that out loud, but then when he brought it back to her situation, that struck her quiet. She looks downward and hugs her arms as she considers that.]

Er... Y-yeah... [She mutters in quiet acknowledgement. Could she really do it? Even if just in a dream, could she act and change that for the better?

Then as he describes more of Natsume, she tries her best to match.]

Mista Nats... Natsoo-mee. [She nods slowly.] Oh, the poor bloke 'o used to own Waggy! That's it, that's 'ow I 'eard of 'im. Accused twice, was 'e? Now that sounds like luck that could contend with mine! [She only got accused once, but her other time in court prior to detective work wasn't really pleasant either!]

Here. [ Sholmes exhales and leans forward, sliding the jar with the Glowing Dawn back over to Gina. ] Take this. And if you find you need more, Professor Mikotoba has a greenhouse full.

[ He sits back again and, if his tone dipped into uncharacteristic seriousness, it returns to being jokingly chipper: ] I must say, Mr. Naruhodo's wide-eyed anxiety paled in comparison to Mr. Natsume's abject terror. But luckily, much like you, he escaped the so-called Reaper. He's quite happy back in Japan enjoying a life full of windows, writing what I'm certain are very strange novels.

[Gina looks up with wide-eyed surprise as the jar's offered to her! And she places a hand over it as she considers accepting it.]

Y-you sure about that? ...So there's more of 'em in Professor Mick's greenhouse, eh? ...Just make sure ya get some fer yerself. Can't have the great dee messin' up 'cause of missin't sleep on account o' some dreams about Li'l Iris in danger, now can we?

[She says that a bit shakily, even as she tries to tease Sholmes. She smiles a little as he goes on about Natsume.]

It's 'ard to really Adam an' Eve someone even more jittery than 'Oddo. ...Glad 'e got away from the Reaper too. If 'e brought up Waggy, 'e must've been a good gent.

Don't fret about me—I'll help myself to a lovely bouquet from the Professor's stock later. It's equally important that you and your furry associate are well-rested. [ Now that's a thought: can Toby have nightmares? Can he turn Noctaere? If so, he might lick people sturdier than Ryunosuke into a dead faint. Perish the thought.

But just in case: ]

In fact, how has the Chief Inspector's sleep been? [ He reaches down to give Toby another scratch and examine him for signs of exhaustion. What does a tired terrier even look like? ]

[She does seem content with hos assurance. As long as he knows to take care of himself by helping himself to some of the old man's flowers, that's good enough for her!

Sholmes may have to keep pondering the appearance of a tired terrier, because Toby does look well-rested and full of his usual energy! And hungry for more scraps.]

Toby's been sleepin' like a dog, 'e 'as. [She says with a wave of her hand while nodding slightly.] I ain't seen a sign of any trouble catchin' winks from 'im. So you don't gotta worry 'bout the chief... Not that you gotta worry about me neither!

The Chief Inspector has his work cut out for him, keeping Chocohai in line. No surprise the pup is tuckered out. [ How long will the chocolate cat persist? Maybe Susato made her too well. ]

Between the Glowing Dawn and that indomitable diver's spirit, I expect you'll have sweet dreams soon enough. [ Or so he hopes. He has his eye on you, Gina. ] And do make an effort to sleep in a proper bed for once. If only for Miss Susato's peace of mind.

[ Sholmes isn't in any position to be instructing people on "proper" beds. More often than not, he nods off in a chair. Or folded over a workbench. Or on the floor. ]

'E sure is! An' I'm surprised that I'm not even more tired from stoppin' 'im from takin' a bite out of the cat all those times. [She says with a tired roll of het eyes as she scratches the dog's head. Petting him makes her feel a bit better about her hardships!

She sighs and shames her head.]

Yeah, yeah. If it'll keep Sooze off me back so she can keep 'er attention on 'er own business, sure. I'll lay in a bleedin' bed every now and then.

[ Sholmes stares at the jarred flower for a long moment, squinting. There was something else, wasn't there? Oh, right! He perks up. ]

Do you have Iris' grenade launcher handy? [ Emphasis on Iris'. ] Or perhaps one of the smoke rounds? I have a project in mind, and would prefer not to reinvent the proverbial wheel.

The one she let me keep, ya mean? [She says in turn to challenge his emphasis!

In a moment, she whips it out of her satchel.]

'Course. I always got it on me fer any occasion. [You know she's got that thing on her!] Got a few rounds too. But before I agree to anytin', wot're ya plannin' now, Sholmes?

[OPEN] A Late March Catchall

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