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WHO: Sherlock Holmes and OPEN
WHERE: Sherlock's lab at Rossum
WHEN: Uh lots of different times in the last week up until a couple days from now
WARNINGS: powers on display...? Sherlock being a dick. probably some violence and dead bodies.
SUMMARY: Follow up to this post, Sherlock is running some tests
FORMAT: Whatever you want, bbs.

Sherlock had made very sure he was going to be very, very busy, but he was well prepared. He'd outfitted his lab with as much equipment as he could possibly think to need, and even managed to find some extra space for the more - well - explosive tests.

All he had to do was wait for the participants to arrive.

Ah, and make sure he had plenty of cash on hand.

[Tag in with the time of your test, and make sure to mention if you want it just one on one, or if anyone else is invited!]

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[He isn't sure what he'd been expecting, but the blood and the collapse somehow hadn't been it - even though he'd fired the gun, even though he'd seen head wounds before, hundred's of times and --

He nearly dropped the gun, where he was, frozen by shock for a whole two minutes as Jack lay still, before finally he thrust the gun into his jacket pocket and ran forward, crouching down next to Jack's body with overt concern crossing his face.]

Jack. Jack.

[Nothing. He'd actually killed a man, and it was only supposed to be an experi--

The gasp was enough to get Sherlock to stand bolt upright immediately, take a step back. Stock still once more as he watched, a mixture of rapt fascination, horror, and - yes - that trace of honest concern - as Jack came back to himself.

Slowly, slowly, he let himself breathe again.]

... That... [And Sherlock, at a loss for words.]

... You were dead--

[There's something Jack never thought he would see, and it is enough to make him grin a little more, playful, now.]

Oh, I know I was. It doesn't exactly stick. Hasn't for quite a long time, now.

[He rolls his shoulders a bit.] That's the funny thing about humans messing with the time vortex, it doesn't exactly end well.

[Sherlock was generally exceedingly good at keeping a mask on his real emotions, a clamp on his real thoughts, but he was too busy learning to breathe again to be able to entirely smother them - brow creased and his fingers curling into themselves, straightening again, and then curling once more. The rest of him didn't move.]

But it-- [He could remember, of course, in perfect, complete detail, everything about it. And he would remember. Every single detail. At long as he was in the city. Exactly how much blood, and exactly the dimensions of the wound, and exactly how Jack's face looked and--

It took a massive amount of effort, to force that from his mind and come back to the here and now.]

How many... Do you have any idea how many times that has happened? [His voice was odd and tight.]

[Jack stands, a tad shakily, and gives Sherlock a long look.]

Over a thousand. [And for just a moment he looks it, old and tired, but it's gone as soon as he straightens.] I remember every time.

[He said nothing for a long moment, and then drew out the gun, holding it hilt first towards Jack.]

Wounds. They work the same? Or do you only heal once you've been dead several minutes. [He's trying to be as professional as possible, but he's still a bit shaken, and he isn't quite adept enough to keep that completely hidden in his voice.]

They heal eventually. [He takes the gun and sticks it in his pocket again, looking slightly wary.]

If you want another demonstration, I can do that.

[Sherlock said nothing for a long moment, still watching Jack, and then he seemed to shake himself - and suddenly that half sarcastic, half smug demeanor was back... mostly. There was still an edge to it that could almost be called concern.]

How eventual is eventually? A usual human rate, or accelerated, or...?

[He didn't really know if he wanted to watch Jack die again, so he kept that question firmly to the side.]

Accelerated, yeah. Though if it's bigger it takes longer.

[He let out a long breath.]

And pain? I assume it's comparable to the normal amounts? If you regenerate, I assume the nerve ending regenerate at the same rate as well? Are you desensitized, at all?

I don't know if I'd call it regenerating, really, it's more -- I'm a fixed point in time. I have been ever since Rose brought me back.

But yeah, it's -- comparable. The only reason I'm desensitized, really, is living with it for over a century.

Time... [He frowned, closing his eyes, brows furrowed. Small white notes popping up by his head but again, unreadable. Attempting to make sense.]

This isn't a power. At least, not here... It was something that happened to you, not something innate?

Exactly. With the Doctor and Rose, a few months after I started traveling with them.

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