dreamnet | [Video] 001

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[Video] 001

[The camera feed kicks on to the familiar sight of replica 221B Bakerstreet- not so familiar, however, is the crew-cut blonde ex-soldier wandering aimlessly between checking the window, and trying to look composed.

John Watson has no idea what is going on.

His day started normal enough. He walked into the living room, went to grab his favorite mug, thought to check the weather-- and couldn't help but notice London was gone. As this was more than a bit not good; the man could now be seen muttering tersely beneath his breath, seemingly oblivious to the recording device on the adjacent table.]

Okay, John Watson, think...

[Had the lab in Baskerville triggered something? Even if an episode with this sort of effect was seldom heard of, random bouts of amnesia did not speak well for the sanity of a war veteran who supposedly had PTSD. Hmm... Well, if he is losing his mind, the best reaction will be to not react at all. Yes. He just has to wait this out; have a lie down in his chair. Resolutely, the doctor straightens his shoulders.

At last John's eyes narrow at the sight of the dreamberry. Hello Somarium.]

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[Okay, Sherlock has had enough of this.]

John! Shut-up and listen to me.

[He gives John a moment.]

You. Me. The flat. This isn't London any more. If you goto Bart's things should be where you expect them, since no people are working there.

[Surprisingly, John does quiet at the outburst; of course the answer only gives him more questions: Fine, never mind the coat; how is he supposed to pay cab fare without his wallet?.. Except this isn't London? So no cabs then? How is Bart's here but no one works there? How is Bart's here when this ISN'T LONDON?!

Still, he trusts Sherlock. That is all that matters. The army doctor drags out a long sigh and forces himself to look at the map.]

Bart's first. Then hospital. Anything from the flat?

[It's a deceptive sort of distance but maybe he can run the whole way.]

[It is a deceptive distance. But nothing is terribly far here. Sherlock considers if there's anything needed from the flat.]

No. And I promise to explain everything once you get here.

[Whether he'll be able to explain things in a way John will understand is a different matter. But for John's own safety, he will explain.]

[John frowns, finally calming his voice.]

No. You are rather badly injured; maybe it's best you don't talk.

[Not to say, he doesn't want an explanation; but Sherlock's health comes first right now. If the detective really does have a punctured lung, he probably hasn't been doing any favors. John pauses as something offscreen catches his attention, and turns to look away.]

Hang on a moment--

[The feed cuts out.]

It's been far more than a moment. Don't forget the morphine at Bart's.

[Sherlock isn't in the mood for any of this crap any more. And it's worse now that he knows John isn't from... when he is... He needs to find out when John is from...]

[Leave it to Sherlock to make his flatmate race about an entire foreign city instead of just giving an explanation. Once out of the doorway of 221B Bakerstreet, John felt the entirety of the situation assault him full-force; the only thing keep his mind ~~and legs~~ straight, the mission he was given.

It takes a fair moment, but sure enough the army doctor appears in the hospital hallway, keeping a wary eye out. It isn't very difficult. For a hospital this place seems rather empty. Not as empty as Bart's had been per say- and, really, that word did not begin to describe how unsettling it was to see a place he knew so well, for so long, so completely devoid of life- but understaffed nevertheless.

John knows what Sherlock wants, he marches right up to the drip with something unlabeled; and fixes the detective a strong look.
Trust him.]

Afraid I couldn't get anything much stronger than Paracetamol but this'll have to do...

[A lie; as Sherlock should soon feel the morphine take. A fairly diluted strain, yes, but effective nonetheless. You owe him for this.]

[The thing about Sherlock knowing Chemistry so well, is he knows the difference between the syringes of different medications. He just glares at John, until the medicine starts to effect him. When it does, he relaxes a bit. It's clear he's been in much more pain than he's been letting on. He pauses before speaking.]

It's a mild dosage.

[He takes a breath.]

Still... it's better. You have questions.

[It's easier to let John ask - Sherlock doesn't know what John has already been told by others.]

[Questions, of course John has questions, had so many he nearly begged Mycroft; but where does he even begin? John busies himself looking at the medical chart with a tight frown.]

I don't understand.

[So many injuries, treatment periods. Not something possible in the time span of just this morning.]

I was just with you.

Fine. I'll ask the questions.

[He takes a breath and sits up a bit more - the little bit of morphine is helping - but it's clear it's not quite enough. He's not faking, John.]

Our last case. What was it?

[John grows uncomfortable; fidgeting in his chair.]

My memory is fine, Sherlock.

[If there is one thing thought that unnerves him, it is being less than he should be. John refuses to accept there is a gap in his memory; but with the evidence stacking against him, it's getting harder to deny.]

You know what it was.

[Sherlock's getting annoyed. But there's one sure way to get John to answer.]

Maybe mine isn't! Answer the question!

[John barks back, mirroring the stress.]

Fine!! Henry Knight, Dartmoor, Dr. Frankland-- took an unfortunate step!! I haven't.. named it yet. I don't know, the Hounds of Baskerville!

[Excuse Sherlock as he doesn't know how to answer for a moment.]

Good.

[Well, that confirms it.]

How much do you know about this place?

Considering how little you've told me, not a whole lot!

[John grimaces, the tension from the outburst still dying down.]

I almost asked Mycroft, Sherlock.

[Mycroft.]

Someone mentioned it having to do with dreams.

Don't talk to Mycroft - he's only been here a few weeks and is doing whatever he can to control my life.

[Sherlock perks his ears at "someone." No matter...]

This place is called Somarium. People from different worlds are all pulled here - I believe for an experiment, though I have yet to discover what kind. A couple of weeks ago, we were attacked by... Natives, I guess, though I doubt anyone is native to this place. I arranged to be kidnapped, I was planning to become one of their side to figure out what was going on, but the other hostages decided to brake out.

Then the rest of the people here raided where we were held captive.

[And no that doesn't explain why Sherlock's in hospital, but it catches John up.]

[Okay there, Mr. deduction, one step at a time. Still, John's form grows less tense.]

Right, lets go back to that bit about different worlds.

So you're saying, everyone that is here.. they don't actually come from this, er, place?

[Sherlock nods - not as slowly because the pain isn't as bad.]

Yes. And some seem to be from different versions of Earth. When I first arrived, there was another Sherlock Holmes and John Watson here. Though, they were from the late 19th Century.

Okay.

[Oh-- hang it all; fine, he'll believe anything at this point.]

More than one version of us, sure, why not?
...And the dreams?

Dreams...

[Sherlock might have paled slightly.]

The device in your hand will broadcast your dreams and nightmares. And sometimes, other people can walk and interact with you in the dreams. They've called it dreamwalking.

[Clearly, Sherlock doesn't want to talk about it.]

..That so.

[John stills; clearly he isn't keen on that discussion either. Three things John Watson does not talk about- his limp, his tremor, and the night terrors that frequently cause both. He tries for a light smile.]

So um. What's been more ridiculous? The food here, or your brother trying to still be the government? Can't imagine he's done too well; his cameras gone and all that.

My brother has only been here a little over a month. And the food in general is not great and since the place went to pieces... [he means that literally.] ...it's gotten worse.

[He looks John up and down.]

Any other questions?

[Sherlock never promised to have patience.]

[John quirks a brow. What?]

Guess he might finally succeed in his dieting, then. There's good news for waistlines.

[The doctor frowns. He really doesn't want the answer to this, but it can't be helped.]

..And you? How long have you been here?

[Sherlock swallows thickly.]

Nearly eight months.

Eight...

[John has taken everything else with a grain of salt- probably a gulp of something ridiculously strong too- but this. This.
Suddenly, sitting in the chair is no longer something John can bear. He stands up quickly, but doesn't make to leave; just stands. Maybe to assure himself his legs won't give out.]

So what you're saying is... I've lost eight months of my life? It's been eight months longer than I remember?

[Sherlock shakes his head slowly.]

No... That's how long I've been here. Time here doesn't pass in the same way as it does back there. What's the last thing you remember?

[Private Video: Encrypted]

[Private Video: Encrypted]

[Private Video: Encrypted]

[Private Video: Encrypted] Figure we'll continue after I get a bit futher with Subaru?

[Private Video: Encrypted]

[Action] Hope this works for you?

[Action] Of course it does <3

[Action] <333

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[Action] lol lovely icon words

[Action] Well it's APT considering what scene that is :D

hehe indeed

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You've got some good tags below too XD

Oh I know it! XD I just had time to draft yours before my internet shut off

Oooo Forgot about that!

Re: Oooo Forgot about that!

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