cape_kore | Kenzi [001] Video

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!

Given the appropriate data, yes. Without information, though, I can't do more than anyone else could.

[He seats himself on a box of... something, doesn't matter, it isn't his.]

I would tell you to keep a look out for anything potentially useful but you're even less observant than--

[--John is. Sherlock winces before he can stop himself.]

[She grins at him, pointing a finger]

Lucky for you, Fluffy, finding info is my thing. It's legit my job to get information.

[Less observant. HA! She hadn't even started to get all observant on this place. In all honesty, she was kind of enjoying the fact that she wasn't face to face with an incredibly powerful being of hate and violence. Vacation mode. But it was really time to get down to business.]

I got this. Just trust me.

Mmm, yes, well, luckily, I won't have to just trust you. I have no intention of sitting on my arse up here all day. Not a good idea; I'd get bored, and when I get bored, awful things happen.

[Doubly awful when they don't know where they are or how limited their supplies are. The fact that Sherlock would rather die than be bored in the long term doesn't obscure for him the fact that most people probably don't agree with that sentiment.]

So you're gonna partially trust me?

[Not that she even trusts him for a second-- okay, yes she does. The whole being distant thing doesn't always work out for her whens he comes across weirdos and outcasts and generally awesome people that she wants to spend time with.]

Boring isn't a thing you have to worry about while I'm around. I'll come and visit you every day until we bust outta here.

N-- what? No; may as well just kill me now. I'm going to trust you not to say anything because I'm going to trust that you don't want me to find you and shoot you, and you're not going to visit me any more than is strictly necessary.

[So never, ideally.]

[She gets up, stretches her arms up over her head and cracks her neck.]

Yep. So every day. Sufficient motivation for you to figure a way out. Should be easy, right? With you psychic powers. How did you do that, anyway?

You seemed rather confident in your earlier explanation. Who am I to argue with such an enthusiastically-delivered conclusion?

If you were actually psychic, you'd already know why I have every right to believe in that shiz.

[Because it's real. Not when she does it for cons. Not when her aunt does it to hustle people for money as a fake, Russian, fortune telling gypsy. But it is real. And since he hasn't asked a single question about why the hell her brain is full of magical fairy creatures and a billion different secrets, mostly of the dark variety, she knows that is not the case.]

What gave it away?

Kenzi [001] Video

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