Sʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ ❝sʜɪᴛᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ❞ Hᴏʟᴍᴇs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
logicals) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-08-17 08:23 pm
logicals) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-08-17 08:23 pm
But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from you
CHARACTERS: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) & YOU.
LOCATION: The crime scene in which his doppleganger lies dead.
WARNINGS: Dead body, graphic descriptions of asphyxiation/drowning? idk.
SUMMARY: Sherlock looks over the dead body of himself and he gets a little weirded out about the whole thing.
NOTES: Probably pretty morbid from here on out. Sherlock's acting strangely as he gathers information on the murder of ... himself.
It's somewhat surreal to see yourself lying face down inside a pool, breath all but silenced for eternity long before he honestly has the chance to fix it. There's nothing quite so alarming as looking down at your own lifeless body, quietly taking in every detail immediately available with a rate that is, in his own opinion, taking far too long due to the cold sensation of shock inching its way down his spine. Nothing could ever prepare one for the image of their dead body, and as it stands, no one should ever be allowed to see themselves bereft of life; it's an odd sensation, almost as though you're standing in front of what you know to be a fixed event, whether it's happening now or later. It's an image he was never meant to see, despite the fact that he's now died twice (as far as his John's concerned, at the very least) - this is the one thing no one should ever have to experience, and Sherlock isn't sure what to do with himself beyond the initial collection of data. He's going through the motions, mind suspiciously blank as he picks certain things up and pockets them. He's barely paying attention to his movements, which speaks volumes for the way in which Sherlock's feeling - detached, because everything is finally catching up. With the amount of trauma he's had to deal with over the past few months, some might say that it's been a long time coming.
Well, Sherlock just finds it unnecessary - or he would, if he could pull himself together enough to actively pay attention to his surroundings and the actions of his hands as he uses his fingertips to slide those eerily empty eyes shut. He's never seen a look like that, not on his own face. The slack expression of nothing going on, no mask pulled up to fake his way through the day, just a blank, uncharacteristic nothing. Suddenly all of that information is worthless, stuck inside the head of a dead man, never to be retrieved.
Somewhere, the thought occurs to him that he'd quite like to do an autopsy of his brain, to see what he's dealing with. Is that an especially morbid thought? Probably. He's not really keeping track any more.
LOCATION: The crime scene in which his doppleganger lies dead.
WARNINGS: Dead body, graphic descriptions of asphyxiation/drowning? idk.
SUMMARY: Sherlock looks over the dead body of himself and he gets a little weirded out about the whole thing.
NOTES: Probably pretty morbid from here on out. Sherlock's acting strangely as he gathers information on the murder of ... himself.
It's somewhat surreal to see yourself lying face down inside a pool, breath all but silenced for eternity long before he honestly has the chance to fix it. There's nothing quite so alarming as looking down at your own lifeless body, quietly taking in every detail immediately available with a rate that is, in his own opinion, taking far too long due to the cold sensation of shock inching its way down his spine. Nothing could ever prepare one for the image of their dead body, and as it stands, no one should ever be allowed to see themselves bereft of life; it's an odd sensation, almost as though you're standing in front of what you know to be a fixed event, whether it's happening now or later. It's an image he was never meant to see, despite the fact that he's now died twice (as far as his John's concerned, at the very least) - this is the one thing no one should ever have to experience, and Sherlock isn't sure what to do with himself beyond the initial collection of data. He's going through the motions, mind suspiciously blank as he picks certain things up and pockets them. He's barely paying attention to his movements, which speaks volumes for the way in which Sherlock's feeling - detached, because everything is finally catching up. With the amount of trauma he's had to deal with over the past few months, some might say that it's been a long time coming.
Well, Sherlock just finds it unnecessary - or he would, if he could pull himself together enough to actively pay attention to his surroundings and the actions of his hands as he uses his fingertips to slide those eerily empty eyes shut. He's never seen a look like that, not on his own face. The slack expression of nothing going on, no mask pulled up to fake his way through the day, just a blank, uncharacteristic nothing. Suddenly all of that information is worthless, stuck inside the head of a dead man, never to be retrieved.
Somewhere, the thought occurs to him that he'd quite like to do an autopsy of his brain, to see what he's dealing with. Is that an especially morbid thought? Probably. He's not really keeping track any more.
no subject
It's not somewhat surreal, it's infinitely surreal, existentially surreal, and much more to Sherlock in ways than it is Holmes. It's not his face, quite simply, and so there's a layer of disconnect that Holmes feels as opposed to what Sherlock feels. He is, however, in a few ways, this first Sherlock's elder. He's older, he'd like to believe he's wiser, and he's seen much more than either of the two have.
It, in part, makes him wonder if there was something he could have done about this, but he really doesn't want to bother to approach that road of thought. It won't lead to anything he'll particularly like to see, and he'd rather not send himself into a downward spiral over self-righteous conjecture.
He lingers behind Sherlock, hands in his pockets, leaning slightly over the other man. And tsks, once, lowly. "Penny for your thoughts."
no subject
He moves in order to make sure he looks as though he's working, but to trained eyes such as Holmes, he'd be able to tell that he is, for the most part, just acting; it's difficult to wrap his head around these events, and it's taking up quite a lot of strength to forcibly stop his hands from shaking. God, when did he become so weak, so easily swayed? His time with John has left him soft, and he's not entirely sure how to go back to being cold and aloof (and what's more, he's not sure he wants to go back at all). Still, this entire situation is distressing, and the pressure that's been placed on his shoulders is hard to shake. Especially when people seem to think that he's the one that had committed the crime.
As if he'd ever need to murder himself. There are plenty of people on the ship willing to do it for him (not that he'd ever really consider it).
It takes him a while to respond to Holmes; there's just so much going on in his head that he almost misses it entirely - but once he catches up with reality, he subtly shakes his head and his eyes skirt away from the body below him.
"Complicated." An admission that he doesn't quite know where to start, and it's one he expects Holmes to pick up on all too easily.