[OPEN] A Late March Catchall

[thegamesafoot]

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! ]

Comments

[discourtesies]

[It's a defense mechanism.

Barok merely shakes his head at the idea of accepting the invitation the Mikotobas had sent; it had been difficult enough to attend to the simple tasks he'd previously committed to without the addition of any unpredictable arrivals.]

I was hardly in a state for pleasant company, let alone what you describe.

[If he'd been capable of feeling much more than exhaustion, the dread of seeing their Eastern acquaintances at that point might have been enough to keep him from attending anyway.]

I'm certain it made for a more familiar introduction to this realm than it would have been otherwise.

[thegamesafoot]

[ Even with his wild imagination, Sholmes has a hard time picturing van Zieks in any social setting outside of a courthouse. Even in his "good" moods, he expects the man is only suited to those deranged London clubs where men sit quietly and read. No dogs chasing chocolate cats, no drafts from ruined doors, no Susato takedowns ... not even a great detective vomiting out of a window.

He leans forward and tilts his head like a curious bird, trying to get a better view of the man's face. ]

Nightmares running roughshod on your sleep, Lord van Zieks? [ Of their number, he certainly has plenty of fodder for bad dreams. ] Or more terrifying yet: a recent run-in with one of the Noctaere I've heard so much about?

[ Maybe one particular Noctaere? he thinks. ]

[discourtesies]

[And he will pray to god that he will never have to be involved with any such detectives being ill in such a fashion.

Van Zieks avoids Sholmes's gaze, his own finding a point somewhere on the horizon to his left to wander to.]

... a creature capable of creating nightmares, yes. Whether it was a Noctaere, I cannot say.

[He only has so much knowledge of the things; although he's come to understand that Asogi's affliction was related to nightmares and their corruptive influence here, it's not as if he has any experience otherwise. While he certainly has had a run-in with said particular Noctaere, it was much earlier into his time here, and irrelevant to the recent situation.]

[thegamesafoot]

Yes, indeed! Your face looks decidedly more wan and tortured than usual.

[ He shifts his own face to obstruct van Zieks' avoidant stare. This is probably about as advisable as looking an apex predator square in the eye. ]

Pray, prosecutor. Give me your full testimony. Indulge me with the ghastly details!

[discourtesies]

[His eyes narrow.]

No.

[Even if the details weren't horribly personal in nature, and even though the man could likely guess as to the subjects of any nightmares van Zieks may have, he has absolutely no interest in indulging him further.

He almost entertains the thought that it would be safer for Sholmes to know the details of those "bleeding heart" creatures, rather than to leave him in the dark about the possibilities of possession or other such dark magic. ... But he can learn elsewhere, or else deal with it.]

[thegamesafoot]

[ Sholmes doesn't budge an inch at the blunt reply. ] Then allow me a slight revision: kindly set aside your misgivings about the World's Greatest Detective and consider instead the greater public good.

[ His tone is admirably clipped and businesslike. Perhaps making a concerted effort to speak the man's language. ] I am in the process of gathering all the facts available vis-à-vis nightmare spawn, such that we may devise reliable defenses against them. If you have useful information, it would behoove you to share it, Lord van Zieks.

[discourtesies]

If you are truly interested for the sake of more productive matters, you can seek information regarding the creatures known as bleeding hearts... elsewhere.

[His answer is still ultimately no. Herlock can do the legwork. It wouldn't even be difficult, given that two of their mutual acquaintances encountered van Zieks while he was under the thing's influence. It's likely he could learn all that Barok would be able to provide and more that way, anyway; the prosecutor hadn't exactly looked into them further afterwards.]

[thegamesafoot]

I see. [ Well, at least it's a lead. That specific variant hasn't come up before. Sholmes finally takes a step back, out of the prosecutor's space. ]

In the interim, you leave me to draw my own conclusions about the incident. [ He gives a lilting hum. ] Bearing in mind the whims of this place, those "bleeding hearts" could have afflicted you with anything—ghastly claws, razor-sharp fangs, incurable hiccups, a beard of candy floss, pink polka dots ...

[ He taps his bow to the brim of his hat decisively. ] Pending any evidence to the contrary, I choose to believe you were struck by all of them at once.

[discourtesies]

[Whether the response is meant to provoke him into answering or merely exasperate him for the sake of Sholmes's amusement, Van Zieks finds himself unimpressed. At the same time, though, he doesn't feel insulted enough to take his leave.]

Are all of your deductions conducted with such flippant disregard of the victims, or is that reserved merely for a privileged few?

[thegamesafoot]

Flippant disregard! [ A barking laugh. ] I ply my trade as logic and reasoning dictate—neither of which can be counted on to be particularly kind.

[ He tilts his head, recalling the countless court proceedings he's watched from the public gallery. ] And I must say, I've observed you handle witnesses and jurors with somewhat less courtesy than befits a gentleman prosecutor.

We do what we must to arrive at the truth, my dear fellow!

[discourtesies]

[The difference is that said lack of courtesy is government sanctioned... and also that he considers himself in the right when he does it.

He was only being half serious, at least; he was simply annoyed by that horrible event being painted with such a ridiculous brush. He won't be baited into revealing his personal feelings, however.]

I was merely curious about your method. [Seeking the truth, like the detective says.] The stories published in the Randst only offer a particularly biased view, after all.

[thegamesafoot]

Mr. Wilson does paint me in a rather flattering light, doesn't he? [ A wink. ] You're more than welcome to read my many monographs—my favorite was one on cigar ashes and various tobaccos. It made for pleasurable, if somewhat expensive research.

[ He waves a hand. ] That is to say, anyone is free to learn my methods. All it takes is an open mind and a keen eye for detail—look no further than Mr. Naruhodo for evidence of what a successful pupil can accomplish.

[ Another laugh. ] If we were still in London, I'd offer you lodgings in my attic. From there, you could properly steep in my deductive emanations.

[ And cover a healthy chunk of his rent. ]

[discourtesies]

[Not that it needs to be said, but:]

I would sooner sleep with the rubbish than share lodgings with the "Great Detective."

[And wait a minute, hold on. Van Zieks actually manages to mildly raise a brow for this one.]

Are you attempting to take Mr. Naruhodo's achievements as your own? [Hmph.] Take care your avarice for attention does not lead you to trample over your "pupils," Mr. Sholmes.

[thegamesafoot]

[ Oh, but he still loves to hear it. He's about to quip about how disappointed Iris would be but, in a rare show of restraint, decides against it. Sholmes isn't ready to open that can of worms just yet. ]

My dear fellow, I am but a humble gardener, cultivating potential! I could see his capacity for greatness the moment I laid eyes upon him—curled like a fertile seed inside that steamship wardrobe. [ His hand cups, as if holding a mouse-sized Mr. Naruhodo within. Chuu-chuu. ]

No, the only credit I take is for helping him sprout in our unwelcoming, foreign soil. [ Was there emphasis on "unwelcoming"? ] Once he'd taken root, it took very little tending from me to see him flourish into an intrepid attorney—one who has a marked talent for detection, no less!

[discourtesies]

...

[Van Zieks folds his arms, though not because he disagrees with the notion that London was in fact unwelcoming to the young man. Having taken up an assignment based on false pretenses, under a man who was undoubtedly frustrated at losing his pawn, in a system that was so tied up in its own corruption, facing an opposition with no sympathy... yes, there is something to be said that Naruhodo had a few locals on his side.

He lets out a reluctant hum of acknowledgement.]

I suppose we are all fortune that he did manage to hone his skill within such unpleasant circumstances.

[—wait.]

... You were on that ship?

[thegamesafoot]

I was indeed! [ He confirms, only briefly pausing to wonder why van Zieks would care before he's overcome by a wave of almost starry-eyed nostalgia. ] I really must endeavor to make more ocean voyages—so much excitement always happens aboard steamships, doesn't it?

[ A hand raises to rub his jaw, musing. ] It's no wonder, I suppose: people get a bit funny in the head after they've been cooped up for weeks on end.

[discourtesies]

[... yeah, he's connecting some dots now. The dreamscape he encountered in Naruhodo's mind wasn't a full representation of the events on that ship, but he knows enough to put things together.]

Such that they accuse other passengers of murders that have not occurred, you mean?

[thegamesafoot]

Oh, but Mr. Naruhodo took it quite admirably in his stride!

[ He wags a finger in the air. ] Actually, I'm beginning to form a hypothesis: any defense attorney worth his salt should stand accused of murder at least once. And to think—! Our dear Mr. Naruhodo suffered through it twice.

[ As if Sholmes wasn't absolutely responsible for the second incident. ] I firmly believe that harrowing experience builds healthy empathy for the counsel's clients.

[discourtesies]

[About as well as Barok took the accusations aimed at him, he's sure. Which is to say: internally, not well at all.]

And thus you've done the man and his clients a favor. Another stepping stone you've laid to help him walk the path of an attorney?

[The humidity gets very sticky all of a sudden. Dripping, even. With sarcasm, of course.]

I suppose I know better than to accuse the "Great Detective" of having motives as base as guilt, concerning the friendly accommodations offered to Mr. Naruhodo.

[thegamesafoot]

Exactly right!

[ The unruly sprigs of Sholmes' hair curl even tighter at the sudden humidity. Maybe he should lure the man and his extra-potent sarcasm to Mikotoba's greenhouse? The plants would certainly appreciate it. ]

I was guided by the most conspicuous, logical conclusion: Mr. Naruhodo and Miss Susato required inexpensive lodgings, and my attic [ and pocketbook? ] was quite empty.

[ He doffs his hat and jostles a hand through his hair. This does nothing to improve matters. ] The arrangement was not the least bit unfamiliar, having enjoyed the same with Professor Mikotoba some ten years past.

[discourtesies]

[Honestly, this man... for every good deed he does, there's some annoyance preceding or following. Van Zieks shakes his head as if in disbelief, though he can't say he's terribly surprised by anything he's learned in the course of this meeting. His tone is flat as he responds, reading between the lines.]

A mutual exchange of sorts, you're suggesting.

[He could make a snide remark about shoving the doctor into the attic, but... he holds his tongue. Besides, he does actually have a reason for coming here that has nothing to do with the detective.]

As enlightening as this conversation has been... I believe it is past time I allowed you to return to your solo performance.

[And it's better he doesn't stay around Sholmes and his banter for too long, lest he end up freezing some part of the garden by accident.]