capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

[Tom glances at the man, looking only slightly chastised; even Tom Riddle the prefect wouldn't be completely sorry for being curious, so most people wouldn't be. He does take a step before the other man, the interesting one, speaks up. Well. He has no problems with staying.

He shifts casually, hands resting in the pockets of his coat, one loosely gripping his wand. He looks for all the world like he just stepped out of the 1940s and his appearance is immaculate; his clothes are well taken care of and there are only a couple scuffs on his shoes.

And the polite look on his face is well practised, almost perfect.] I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stopped. I didn't mean to interrupt.

No, it's... fine. [Sherlock smiles. It's such a practiced motion that he pulls it off impeccably, despite not having an ounce of feeling behind it. He always was a good actor.

The details around Tom are bright and clear - the exact type of stitching in the shoes and around the pockets, the type of fabric and the exact colour dye...

A small counter appears beside Sherlock's head, with the year 2010, until it starts working backwards. It ends at 1940s with a '?' beside it. The words almost immediately fade after they appear.

Sherlock was right to be curious.]

It's only natural for an intelligent young man to be interested. [His low baritone voice was charming.]

[Tom's gaze immediately flicks up at the numbers and his eyes narrow a fraction as they tick down. Of course, it would be easy to tell when he was from if one had any understanding of history...but it was interesting to see when the numbers started.

Sherlock gets a very mechanical smile for the compliment--he does hear it very often, and while he likes to hear it, any regular person would grow tired of it after a time.]

I think many people would be. [His gaze flicks briefly back at the dead woman.] Do you know what happened?

[Sherlock, of course, is unaware of the images and the text and even the bright noticeable details. It's simply him projecting his mind around him. So when Tom asks, suddenly all the details of the crime scene leap into importance. The exact spray pattern of blood, the ragged edge of the wounds, the way her hand crumpled under her as she fell.

Images of six other murders float up around him like ghostly reflections - each different but then there are patterns, highlighted and glowing - that follow each of them.]

Of course.

[A small smirk. He isn't the world's greatest detective for nothing.]

[Horribly inefficient. Tom can simply not imagine why anyone would want to have everything happening in their mind visible to everyone like this, much less someone working with the police, someone who seemed to notice so very much about the world around him.

If Tom were a better person, he would point it out. The man didn't seem aware of it (a backfired spell?). And he couldn't quite keep himself from looking, however briefly.]

Of course. [He smiles apologetically and shrugs a bit.] I suppose that wouldn't be something you could share. Not in an ongoing investigation.

Still, it's good to see the police have someone so competent on their payroll. [Only not really. That is dangerous.]

They don't. I'm a consultant. [It's a point of personal pride. He doesn't need to be a police officer for them to beg him to come.]

But Sargeant Sally Donovan is getting tired with him - she didn't want him here in the first place and she's coming over with a very annoyed, exasperated look on her face.

Hey, Freak, you're wasting all our time here. [The statement could have been made to either of them, only Sally's eyes are locked on Sherlock.]

[A consultant. The word and the images want to remind him of something, but it's impossible, not to mention he was from completely the wrong time.

His polite smile falters a bit she the woman walks over, and his eyes briefly gain a very hard look at that word. It's gone soon enough, since it wasn't directed at him, but for that moment, it's clear it's not a word he's fond of hearing.]

I suppose I should go, then. Seeing as I shouldn't have stopped in the first place.

[Not that he really wants to, especially not now, but he has to keep up the act.]

[Donovan is obviously getting agitated - Sherlock's dreams seem to be reacting a bit to the other presence, even if that is what has Sherlock interested. But behind him, a body, a case... His attention is starting to waver, as if the dream is trying to suck him back in. He wants to focus on the man, wants to place him but as every moment passes he's getting more distracted by the body.]

[He opens his mouth to reply, but Donovan is already cutting off.

Yes. I think you should. This is an active crime scene, and Mr. Holmes here is already enough of a burden.

[Well, if he needed any confirmation, that was it. Even if it makes absolutely no sense--though in a lot of ways, it makes plenty of sense. Those images, undoubtedly the way his mind worked, fit all too well with what he knew of the legendary detective (which was quite a lot, frankly, there was only so much to do growing up in an orphanage when one hated all the other kids).

And in an instant, he is completely ignoring the woman. He's still pretty incredulous, since it was just a surname, but, well, he is a wizard, and one determined to make the impossible possible at that. He does try to keep most of that off his face.]

Holmes? Is Dr Watson nearby as well? [If this wasn't him, it should seem like a cute joke, one he'd undoubtedly heard before. But if it was...]

[That brings Sherlock's attention fully back to the boy. His eyes narrow and the details JUMP as his scrutiny falls back on Tom. Donovan is about to say something more, but Sherlock raises an impatient hand to stop her.

His voice has lost it's practiced charm when he speaks, and comes out ice cold.]

And how, exactly, do you know Dr. Watson?

[Outside of the dream he's used to people making the connection - but here it's still London, even if it's a London with a John in it, unlike at home.]

[That is a neat trick, not at all like having your mind open for all to see, but Tom only spares the slightest glance to see what, exactly, would seem even more important this time.

He gives a small shrug and looks a little confused by the reaction, but he can't quite hide his interest anymore. Sherlock Holmes.]

I've heard of you. Both of you.

[It is Sherlock's dream, after all, and nothing is more important to him than his mind. But all his focus is on Tom, now, running through the details like a laundry list.]

Have you. [Not a question. Sherlock's hands are in his pockets now, his steel eyes narrowed and his chin is just ever so slightly tucked into his scarf.

Lestrade has noticed, now, and he's calling for other policemen while Donovan is watching Sherlock and the boy intently.

Sherlock almost remembers something, but it flickers out instantly. The idea of that book still hasn't lodged firmly enough in his mind to be able to think of it clearly when sleeping.]

And, pray tell, how exactly you would have heard of myself and a man I've only just met?

[His gaze flicks briefly over at Lestrade and his eyes narrow very slightly; he has his reasons, none of which were connected to this murder, for not wanting to be detained by Muggle authorities. As they must be. No matter what sort of magic seemed to be going on here, Sherlock Holmes was not a wizard.

And that was not a question he'd expected. But then, Holmes did look quite young, comparatively. It did explain his reaction a bit.

How did you tell someone you thought was fictional until a minute ago that you read about them in a book that likely wasn't even written yet for them.]

I'm unsure if you would believe me if I told you. It's quite a long and convoluted story. [that he was kind of still working out himself.]

Try me. [The challenge was more than apparent in the icy baritone, but there were sirens in the distance now. Sherlock's dreaming mind was completely on the defensive.

Donovan was shoving him aside, now, to get between him and the boy.]

Sir, I must insist that you leave.

[Outwardly, Tom looks completely unconcerned by the sirens or Donovan, still ignoring them both. Inwardly...well, he's still mostly unconcerned but he is starting to go over defensive spells and what he might say if he had to Oblivate any of them.

He's silent for a moment, fingers playing with his wand in his pocket, but if there was anyone who might get it, it was this man.]

There's a book. Several books, actually, and several short stories. Written from the point of view of Dr. Watson, detailing some of your more interesting cases.

[Something in the back of Sherlock's mind brightens and tries to latch onto it - a memory, a conversation, a book - but then his dreams go on full alert and the police cars are pulling up, sirens roaring, and Lestrade has run up and pushed Sherlock back.

Sherlock's keen eyes, though, are still locked on Tom's face, even as both Lestrade and Donovan draw guns.]

[Tom still looks like he's ignoring the commotion and the guns, which is not at all how the model student would behave, but at this point he doesn't care. He's not staying here. Far too many people to effectively Stun or Obliviate, and he has no intention of being arrested for having a chat.

He shrugs and gives Sherlock an apologetic look, his mind reaching for a place to go, hand tightening its grip on his wand...]

Perhaps another time, Mr. Holmes.

[And he turns on the spot and disappears.]

(no subject)

got it! :3

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