Train to the Afterlife Meme

[mysockingstory]

The Train to the Afterlife Meme
 

 

Congratulations: You are dead.

Maybe you know how, maybe you don't. Perhaps the memory is fuzzy, or perhaps it's crystal clear down to the look in your comrades' eyes. Maybe it was your time; you've done all you wanted to. Or maybe you weren't at all ready to go, maybe you went out kicking and screaming - but none of it matters. You know you're dead, and the train is taking you to an afterlife. Perhaps an afterlife of your choice; you might've earned that heaven. Or perhaps you've earned something else entirely.

It'll be a bit of a journey, though, so you might as well take your time and talk to the other people in your coach. Death knows no place: most of them are strangers, even from faraway worlds. But death knows no time either, so who knows, some of them may be people you know, even if last you knew, they were alive - or long gone.

Oh look, here comes the snack cart.


All the usual:

• Post with your character's name and canon in the subject line.
• Said character is now dead for whatever reason - canon, AU, what have you. They are on a train with other dead people from many other times, places and worlds.
• Characters don't know for a fact where they're headed - just a general awareness that they're going to some kind of afterlife. Whatever they think it is is up to the player.
• This meme is built especially for cross-canon interaction, and potentially for threadjacking and group threading - if you're interested, may be a good idea to state as much in your subject line.
• Tag around and play nice!
• TRIGGER WARNING: Meme obviously deals with death and may deal with other unpleasant themes as a result. Please be cautious.

Comments

[the_new_sexy]

Back in Baker Street. Bored.

[There's more to that, of course. It was an anniversary of a night that not even Mycroft remembered, and there was a back-alley transaction and some complicated manipulations to make sure that John wasn't at home and---

Overdose? He remembered pain. Nausea. Perhaps this was just another hallucination.]

[whatyoulike]

[Well, no one ever died of boredom. But a quiet night in rarely ends with memory gaps and mysterious train rides either.]

Alone?

[the_new_sexy]

Yes.

This is probably a hallucination of some sort. Flashbacks are common, but not that common.

[whatyoulike]

You hallucinate about me? [The thought of it momentarily pulls her from her dark musings.]

[the_new_sexy]

I hallucinate about a lot of things.

[Answer: Yes.]

[whatyoulike]

[Oh, and doesn't she look smug.]

Well, I'd hate to ruin the script, but this time I'm real.

[the_new_sexy]

Doubt it.

You're some combination of drugs in my system. Morphine, most likely. Yes, I think you'd be morphine.

[whatyoulike]

Flatterer.

[She moves across the aisle and lays her hand over his.] Are they normally this realistic, your hallucinations? Visual, auditory, and tactile, I mean, that would be impressive.

[the_new_sexy]

[the warmth of her hand will always be startling. He swallows and looks down at it, and then back at her. He's had many dreams and hallucinations of the Woman, but yes, this is definitely the most vivid yet.]

I do have an impressive amount of morphine in my system.

[whatyoulike]

[Her thumb rubs small circles against his skin. Yes, she thinks, with a twinge of sadness. Yes, you must have.]

Not one of your cleverer moments.

[the_new_sexy]

[She's warm against his skin. He knows that hallucinations can include tactile sensations, but this feels so---it feels so---]

[His voice goes quiet, almost but not quite vulnerable]

This can't be real.

[whatyoulike]

Real enough.

[Her point has been made, but she likes the solidity of his hand under hers. It's grounding, proof that she can still feel something, so she maintains the contact as she gestures around at the train car with her other hand.]

I can't speak to what this is. But we're both here.

[the_new_sexy]

[He shakes his head, because he can't believe what he's beginning to think might be the explanation. It doesn't make sense. It can't---]

I've taken this mixture a dozen times. The worst that's happened to me is waking up in a rehabilitation center provided by my brother.

[He traces his fingertips along her wrist]

But you. You can't be here. Why would you be here?

[whatyoulike]

[She leans toward him, as if shielding her admission from the rest of the empty car.]

I made a mistake.

[There it is. She had realized, of course, the moment she walked into the room. That her intel was bad. That the information she carried no longer held weight. But by then it was far, far too late.]

[the_new_sexy]

[he wondered if he could tell exactly how it happened. If he could deduce her murder, if he could see who killed her. If it would help anything. He couldn't leave here. He couldn't even tell John or Lestrade. And as the Woman was supposed to be dead, no one would search for her killer.

It didn't seem fair.]

And here, we're going where?

[whatyoulike]

They haven't announced the stops.

[Did any of them get it right? All those religions people subscribed to. In the end, how does it all work? If it's a system of reward-the-devout-punish-the-wicked, she knows she's out of luck.

And she still wants to find out.]

[the_new_sexy]

I have a feeling there's only one stop.

[Sherlock is vaguely aware that wherever they're going is the end. He knows very little about what that might be, most likely because it has been deleted to make way for more important things, like mud splatters and tabacco ash, and how many different jumpers John owns.

John. John would be the first to come home, John would find him. That thought had never occurred to him when he would go out and purchase the morphine and cocaine. It was never---]

Were you alone?

[whatyoulike]

Strictly speaking, no. There were three of them.

[The two who had chased her down, one booting her in the ribs, the other yanking her up by the hair. The one with the gun—

But yes, she was alone in every way that matters.]

[the_new_sexy]

[He lets out a little snort of a laugh that has absolutely no humor in it. Alone. It's strange, but Sherlock never imagined the Woman dying any other way. Head held high, going out with either a fight or in a block of absolute dignity.

No matter how she died now, it was going to be more dignified than his death.]

We were never meant to live long.

[whatyoulike]

Meant to? That's awfully fatalistic of you.

[The gentle rocking of the train, while not enough to unbalance her, does make standing this way difficult. Rather than return to her seat, she kneels.]

I had plans for another five years, at least.

[the_new_sexy]

I only planned to eventually retire and keep bees. [a small, rueful laugh at that] Considering their decline, I should've expected nothing less than this.

[He looks down at the Woman, now kneeling. Yes, it is fatalistic, but he's never really thought of himself, or her for that matter, as something as ordinary as anyone else. Ordinary people lived long lives. Ordinary people died at old ages. They wouldn't.]

[he lowers his voice] We can try to leave the train.

[whatyoulike]

[Bee-keeping. She can picture him in the jumpsuit, white with netted hood. (She can picture him in a lot of things, to be terribly honest.) But she can't imagine him doing that day-to-day.]

Who knows if there's anything out there, before the destination? Maybe it's just ... limbo.

[There's something conspiratorial and a bit devilish in her tone.]

Let's try it.

[the_new_sexy]

[Oh, that was why the Woman was so appealing. She wasn't afraid, she wasn't willing to just stay on the train and wait for what happened. A suggestion of leaving and she was ready to go. He feels something coil in his chest, something that feels a bit like a python and he's internally named "The Woman", because he only feels it around her.

He doesn't pull away, stays close, keeps his voice low]

Second car down, there's a larger window. We can climb out, get to the ground that way.

[If there even is a ground. All he can figure is whereever they're going, it's going to be less interesting than out there.]

[whatyoulike]

[The lure of the unknown is irresistible, and besides, they're already dead. She took worse risks back when she still had something to lose. What's left to stop her now?

The anticipation of it practically hums through her.]

Give me a minute, then follow.

[She stands, finally taking her hand from his, and heads for the door at the end of the car. The next is more populated and she's careful to walk slowly, expression distant, as she passes the dead in their various states of shock, denial, grief. Second car, more of the same. She drifts over to the window and stares out, hands resting lightly on the frame.]

[the_new_sexy]

[He waits for a minute, his heart racing. Ironic, he thinks, to be dead and have his heart racing. The Woman always brought that out of him. A lesser woman might've had to say something sexual, or draw attention to her assets in order to seduce, but the Woman could just sit there, her hand on his, and talk to him. When she left the room, he felt compelled to follow. It's---it's frustrating, but not in a way that he'd want to stop.

When he does follow, he stands and straightens his coat, and then puts his scarf into his pocket rather than on his person. If he looks like he's preparing to leave the train, someone might get the idea that he is. He steps past the people on the cars to the main window, where the Woman is waiting. He steps behind her and places one hand on hers, ever the picture of a man simply following his lover, rather than preparing to open the window.

He stays behind her, but leans in to whisper to her ear:]

Ready?