cape_kore | Kenzi [001] Video

[Bingo. That is one suspicious grin.]

You seen anyone else near that fountain with hair like yours? You know... I really think we had a moment back there. We connected. It was destiny.

So! My question to you, Sir, is... Whatcha doooooin'?

I think you're a phenomenal idiot; clearly we don't see eye-to-eye on that front. The only moment I had was one of acute self-pity.

[Normally this would be where he adds 'and I won't talk to you anymore', but he can't have her going about blabbering to everyone about having seen him. And so...]

Fountain. If you must.

Ouch. We're already at idiot. Okay.

[The smile doesn't falter, but she does roll her eyes.] I must. See you in a few!

[Sherlock waits with his coat collar turned up and his head lowered, cursing himself silently for not stowing the thing earlier and fetching some more nondescript clothing. A haircut had been next on the agenda, perhaps a dye job, anything to make himself less recognisable. But then, how was he to know he'd be kidnapped by an as-yet unknown person or persons and deposited on the other side of the Atlantic bloody ocean?

When Kenzi appears and he's caught her eye, he inclines his head and begins to walk, away from her, not towards. He expects she'll follow.]

[Of course she follows. It's kind of a habit of hers. This guy is beyond paranoid and Kenzi finds it kind of hilarious. Cameras everywhere and he's still trying to not draw attention to himself? Whoever's watching... they're already paying attention. Or there's no one there at all.]

Should we be whispering? Is this like a spy meeting?

[Whoever's watching is unavoidable. That doesn't mean he needs to draw attention to himself, though, and he'd rather be somewhere hidden and out of the way before they speak.]

Not precisely, but I would appreciate it if you were in future to refrain from mentioning me over the public network. That's the only reason I've agreed to speak with you, so don't flatter yourself.

[He looks down at her, tight-lipped.]

Does the name James Moriarty mean anything to you?

If it helps, I didn't use your name! Mostly because I don't know what it is. I'm Kenzi, by the way.

[Staying off the radar is not a priority for her right now. Mostly because she's feeling fearless after taking on the Norn, and also because the only people she's run into so far have all been human.]

Should... it? Kind of sounds like the name of a good whiskey. Or a pirate. Captain James Moriarty! That would be a sweet pirate name. Oh my god, is that you? Are you a pirate, Fluffy?

[So no. No it doesn't.]

[Sherlock doesn't respond to her rambling except to press his lips more tightly together and turn his eyes forward again. No tells that he caught. Just genuine idiocy.

He waits, though. Waits until they've reached the house he's claimed for himself and closed the door behind him before he speaks again, voice low and intent.]

James Moriarty was the most ingenious criminal mastermind the world has ever known. Some months ago he was responsible, he and his organisation, for a series of serial killings, black market operations, kidnappings, bombings, and sundry other crimes too numerous to mention.

Some weeks ago he broke into the Tower of London, the Bank of England's London vaults, and Pentonville prison simultaneously. A week and a half ago he shot himself on the roof of St. Bart's hospital. Quite dead. So am I, officially. I jumped. Those were the terms.

If it should get out, if it should reach the remnants of his organisation that I'm not actually dead, my... friend will be. And my landlady. And a man who saved my life more than once. So no, you didn't use my name, and you won't use it, as you won't get it. I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from discussing me at all, in fact. With anyone. Myself included.

Niiiiice. Oh, uh... the break in. Not all the other shit. That totally sucks and I'm sorry about the dying and all those murders. Did he steal anything? Do they keep money in that tower?

[Priorities, Kenzi! Come on. She takes a moment to look around the house before setting her gaze on Sherlock once more.]

Do you think they did this? His lackeys? Could he pull something like this off?

[Why bring the others, then? Whoever this guy was, it seemed pretty damn self centered to think all this was about him. But it could be. From what he was telling her, it very well could be.]

I can keep my mouth shut, Fluffy, don't freak.

If they've done it then John is already dead and there's no point in me hiding.

[His shoulders slump and he looks faintly troubled, distant. This is a possibility he's been avoiding dwelling upon. Best not to start now.]

I don't think they have. No point in it. An excess of expense and effort when they could just kill me. Without Moriarty to stay them I expect that's exactly what they'd do, in fact.

But until I'm certain nobody here is willing or able to report back to what's left of his organisation then I'd rather my existence remain as widely unknown as possible. My life is at stake too, and until it's confirmed for me unequivocally that John is dead I've no intention of letting them kill me. So. Just... shut up.

Great! So figure out who did it and we can all go home. Sounds soooo simple. It's not like they have some weird magic that totally brought us here with no memory of how it happened or anything!

[If only sarcasm could be used as a weapon.]

... You shut up.

Edited 2012-10-18 18:36 (UTC)

I'm beginning to see a trend with you. Psychic powers, magic...

[Eyeliner. General new-age-y gothic nonsense.]

Is it not much more reasonable to assume drugging? Plenty of tranquilizers are known to cause short-term memory loss.

Psychic powers and magic are real. I don't blame you for not believing, because I probably wouldn't either if I were you.

[But she's seen that shit first hand.] Probably not drugs. Could be, but doubt it. Didn't wake up with the creepy chemical cloudy feeling or the gross taste in my mouth. Just a regular cloudy feeling. [She also knows about being drugged.Great.]

And where the hell is everyone? It's like they all just got... space-teleported out of their houses mid-everything!

[Her wild theories and accusations are often accompanied by flailing]

[Dear God. She's completely mental. Sherlock gives her his best incredulous stare.]

They left, certainly, and in a hurry, but there's no evidence of anything more than that. Note, in fact, that the telephones are gone too, all technology which might be used to contact the outside world. That speaks of intentionality, does it not?

Unless the ALIENS ripped out the technology and took it all with them along with the people for creepy space experiments in space!

Or it's a military thing. OH! What if it was some kind of crazed, pre-zombie pandemic!? So cool. Also terrifying.

[This is the part where she starts wandering. Somehow, she ends up jumping on the couch.]

There's a camera in here, too! Aliens would explain the wrist things and probably also the cameras!

Down.

[That snarl means now.]

Don't touch anything; I want this house to look as abandoned as possible. If you must jump about, do it in the attic, where I'll be living.

[Holyshit-- She stops mid-bounce and lets herself flop on the couch, looking up at him with wide eyes. Dude is scary when he's grumpy. Probably needs to eat a snack or something.]

You're going to live... in the attic? Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a crazy old man?

Crazy, yes, old news, entirely correct. Old man, no. I don't think anyone expected me to live that long, myself included. And I suppose I proved them right, after a fashion. Up. Upstairs, if you want to talk. Shoo.

Well that's comforting.

[She smirks and and heads upstairs, fully allowing herself to be shoo'd. For a grumpy, paranoid guy, he's pretty okay and surprisingly not trying to get rid of her.]

Are you gonna booby trap the place like the kid from Home Alone?

[Sherlock follows her, still visibly sullen. He wants her to go. He also doesn't. Part of it is the desire to be certain she'll not talk about him, and part of it is the simple fact that he's not really spoken to anyone but himself in nearly two weeks, which would've been normal once, but not now. Not since John Watson limped into his life.]

From what? No. Why would I? I did say I don't want anyone to know I'm here, did I not? I think an elaborate system of traps would be a massive bloody hint, personally, though admittedly you might miss it.

It's a movie and because it's AWESOME and if the booby traps were effective enough, the intruders would just think it was poltergeists. Or the traps would kill them. It depends how hardcore you wanna go with that shiz.

[Also, hey! Insulting, much? That gets him a glare before she promptly sits down in the middle of the attic and looks up. Another camera. Broken, but still there.]

This is totally freaking me out. No technology, but a BAJILLION cameras. The hell is up with that?

Ah. Movies. Dull.

[Which says it all, really. He's seen a few, and promptly and deliberately forgotten almost all of them.]

As for the cameras, obviously someone wants to keep an eye on us, and doesn't want us to be able to access the outside world. As for why, I can only speculate.

... What do you even do? [Translation: Why are you so weird?] Why was that psycho dude after you? Did you foil his plans one too many times? I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling crazy-people style?

Consulting detective. I solve the cases the police can't. Or I used to, anyhow.

As for Moriarty, yes, I suppose it was that I'd stepped on his toes, to start. But it became more than that. At first he saw in me a kindred spirit. An end to his boredom if he offered me an end to mine. Quite a neat arrangement, but one of which we eventually mutually grew tired.

After that he took it upon himself to ruin me. He took my credibility, my reputation, and then my life. It was all very thorough, very clever. If I hadn't expected it it would've worked properly, too, and I'd not be here. Or anywhere but in a box in the ground.

Woah. Battle of the super geniuses? Sounds messed up.

[And messy in general. Ultra dramatic. Not too unlike her life back home. Okay, VERY unlike her life, but she could sympathize with the massive piles of suckage and danger.]

But that just means you can solve this thing!

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