bakerstreet | it's coming it's bad

Entry tags:

[meme] gen

it's coming it's bad

❄ it's quiet
and the snow's beautiful tonight → a winter open meme

snowfall;

stage i; none, streets are already blanketed in white.
stage ii; very light and intermittent.
stage iii; light - moderate. lasts longer periods.
stage iv; continuous, heavy snowfall.
stage v; the hardest of cores - blizzards, snowstorms, you name it.

scenarios;

① fuck the police, this is the best time for a walk. hope you've got a nice thick coat on.

② stranded in the buttcrack of nowheresville? weren't you watching the time? now you've gone and missed that last bus out of there. or maybe you're lost, somehow. what do?

③ literally chilling, in this weather, is quite easy to do. sitting around relaxing in it is a wee more difficult, but sometimes much more enjoyable, especially if shelter can be found. the snow is beautiful to watch, after all.

④ the weather's not going to stop you. your snow fort's packed full of ammo and ready to go. those aren't snow angels over there; they mark where the poor souls you've downed have fallen. be careful with that snowman's head!!

⑤ you're about fifty miles from civilization but there's a roof over your head, so never mind the chilly draught, right? right. you mightn't be the only one lucky enough to stumble upon this little shelter, though. remember to share the blanket.

⑥ everyone stuck outside should be jelly. you've got a fireplace and hot cocoa and damn if it isn't awesome. a heater's not quite so romantic, but it'd do. there'd better be a backup generator in case the power trips.

⑦ mix and match, or make up your own.

- from krystaliske @ memebells

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[[lost, and all other options are good.]]

Malcolm Bright looked up from his cup of tea when a restless seeming man walked into the cafe. The snow had grown heavy outside - storm of the year, they were calling it - and New York could be hard to navigate on a good day. This wasn't a particularly touristy neighbourhood; Malcolm liked that this cafe, in particular, was quiet. He could sit with his thoughts there, normally. He wasn't sure why the man stood out, in particular, apart from being somewhat striking to look at. Something in the vaguely irritated expression on his face that wasn't completely hidden by what was clearly a practiced neutral gaze told Malcolm's trained and experienced eye that something was going with him.

"Do you need some help?" he asked without getting up from his seat. He didn't want to come across as aggressive; he didn't know how the man would react.

Sherlock shook some of the heavy, wet snow out of his coat. He knew this neighborhood wasn't probably the best place for a tourist like him. That's if he was a tourist. He didn't usually deal with missing persons, but this struck him as an excellent distraction and a good course to distract his mind.
The one thing about Americans that he did like is that they were helpful, for the most part, but they were also demanding and loud and other things that his posh self did not necessarily find... attractive.

He looked very neutral at this point, tensing. Looking the stranger up and down, a light look of shock at some of the similarities he could see. He was not sure if this made him suspicious, or to trust this person that was like himself. Though Malcolm wasn't like him, either. Unless the offer to help was a basis to find out why he was here.

Malcolm may see a similar reflection, childhood trauma, or trauma of a different sort entirely, prone to night terrors and not sleeping for days on end. The same light tremor in his right hand. Though, unlike Malcolm, Sherlock had a way of looking around the room with a certain level of caution.

"Map of the city would be most helpful, at this point."
He didn't want to admit he was lost, being lost meant a person was vulnerable. He also didn't know the best course with finding a person that no one seemed to know them or where they were.

Maybe it had some sort of odd kinship that Malcolm identified subconsciously before he identified it consciously that made him talk to the man. The British accent was filed under 'further information'.

"If all you needed was a map," he replied reasonably, "you could pull it up on your phone like anyone else." He gestured to the seat across from him. "My name's 'Bright'," he offered. "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you get there." He raised his eyebrows while he observed whether the man would sit or not. "Can I get you a coffee or something?"

Sherlock was considering taking a seat. Maybe it was alright if he asked. "I don't usually handle missing persons cases and the authorities have already proved their lack of interest. A map might show more of the tunnels, is what I was thinking though that might be archaic research."

He takes the photo out, taken from clearly a family print on his own phone.
"They've already tried the authorities. They thought if they sent a more knowledgeable representative that it might be possible to find her more readily."

He did not say the girl was a drug user and had possibly been trafficked, though there won't be an indicator of this in the photo anyway, it won't be hard to connect those dots. He doesn't want a coffee. Best not. Maybe he's a bit less trusting than in the past.

"She's missing from her family in the South Downs, and all they want is her to be returned to them. Where she belongs."

Malcolm, for his part, was drinking chamomile tea, but it was left forgotten as his new British acquaintance told him the reason for his visit. Malcolm looked at the photo with great interest, studying it for a moment, then up at him with even greater interest, studying him for a moment.

"Are you a detective, Mr....?"

Sherlock gives a slight smile, though his words are definitely snobbish. "Consulting detective." I pick who I work with and when.
He folds his hands in a prayer position and observes.

"Very clever, Mr. -?" Sherlock waited to be properly introduced.
But he did like being able to talk about their business before their names.

"Bright, like I said. But... just 'Bright'. No 'Mister'." He leaned back in his seat a bit. "I do some consulting for the NYPD, as a profiler. I usually work for a Lieutenant in Major Crimes. I can get this case seen for you, if that helps. Or I can get you the use of department resources, if that's better for you. If I can make a case for your case." He nodded towards the picture. "What do you know so far?"

Sherlock might be pleasantly surprised by this. "Thank you, Bright. If you want it seen then that is your discretion. I do not think this will end well, but I would be glad to be wrong in this case. Her parents are well-off and are paying me well. Virtually have likely ignored their child physically until now, though I think their care is genuine and they will likely see to getting the care the woman will likely need if we are fortunate enough to find her alive."

Sherlock doesn't consider himself a profiler. He doesn't understand people's motives as well as he'd like.
"She was last seen about four days ago, I have evidence of a plane ticket and a Visa, that is likely to be her, it's unknown if she fled someone or of her own will, or if her fear is merely a delusion of the usage of opiates which her parents claim."
Sherlock thinks that's enough, right?

"Interesting. So... she flew here from England to get away from... we don't know what." He looks up at the detective. "Do we know for sure she wasn't fleeing her family? Well-off parents and their kids don't always see eye to eye on a lot of things. Family legacy or the family business. The value of money. What constitutes appropriate gratitude." He shrugged a shoulder under his expensive bespoke suit jacket. "Maybe she doesn't want to be found by them."

"I want to find that out when I find her. Or find evidence of her. If she wants to be left alone and is relatively safe, I can bring the message of such to her parents. They won't be pleased, but can't really do anything about that."

But that wasn't for him to determine. "I do not have sufficient data that she is here of her free will or not."

"Well, I guess all we can do is find her, then," Malcolm said, getting to his feet. ”Do we have access to her social media; can we find out if she knows anyone here?"

Sherlock taps a few times on his phone, turning it so Bright can see. "It hasn't updated since she left," he explains. He also doesn't use this social media site that often himself.

She follows travellers, people that post all over the world, silly people, what one normal young person follows. Though Sherlock isn't sure if he has a good basis for 'normal'.

Bright doesn't either; they'll have to work it out together.

"Are any of her online friends based in New York?"

"Seven. One of them was here about twenty minutes ago."
He displays his evidence, beginning to relax. Sherlock does better with an audience, when he can explain something without having to go into a certain amount of detail.

He looks around a bit, but he hadn't seen them, here, at least not what their profile picture looked like.

Malcolm raises his eyebrows. "Let me see?"

He looks at the picture on Sherlock's phone.

"A woman with this build was at the counter about that long ago. She had her hood up, but she was definitely blonde."

He got up. "I saw which way she went. It's a place to start."

"People with their hoods up are usually hiding something."
Though, sometimes their anonymity is for a reason. Even though Sherlock would try not to judge without more data.

At this point, he might subtly let Bright lead the way out and what manners he adapted. He could probably find his way around if he tried without any help but the parents were rather desperate for any news at all, when they shouldn't have waited nearly as long to get information. It would hopefully be faster.

[[ooc: notifs are very wonky on my end, probably due to the onslaught of holiday points, I just happened to check this to make sure it wasn't dropped.]]

Edited 2019-12-08 03:47 (UTC)

[ooc: Whenever notifs are borked, you can check this page with whichever journal you're logged into to see which of your comments have been replied to. That's how I've been getting through the latest DW notif borkage!]

Malcolm was bright and animated when he was working a case and as he headed out into the street, he was looking around, keeping his eyes open for the same hooded figure. Why would they think they had something to hide? Maybe they didn't; it was a chilly day. Or maybe it was subconscious. They must know their friend ran away, if they're the one harbouring her.

He spotted the same figure heading into the subway just ahead of them. "This way!" he said to Sherlock over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs.

[...I had no idea this existed. Thanks so much 😊]

"Head her off before she gets on the train."

Sherlock knows this from experience. Had this been London he would have known what alley was quicker and what was the best route to head her off. But then in London there were all sorts of tunnels to hide in.

He also knows it's probably not a good idea to alert her that she's being followed.

[ooc: <3]

"I think we should follow her onto the train and see where she goes," Malcolm proposed as they moved through the crowd.

"That increases the chances of losing her. If this was London I'd take the alley round before the boarding entrance."

He sounds arrogant and annoyed.

"Well, it's not, so let's go," Malcolm tells him, stepping into the train just before the door closes and pulling Sherlock with him. He can see her hoodie just down the car and keeps half an eye there, turning the rest of his attention to his impromptu colleague. Malcolm himself had been known to wear the Arrogant Little Shit sword and shield and he recognized it in the other man.

"I take it knowing the city so well helps you a lot at home."

Sherlock nods absently, razor focus zeroing in on the . She's hiding, she's afraid, she knows something. Does she think him and Bright the enemy instead of an ally?

He moves forward, subtly. Keeping her in his sights. Despite his efforts and his appearance he doesn't blend in as a New Yorker at all, but no one seems to notice. The girl is breathing hard she's going to definitely try and run again. Probably at the next stop.

"You know, you're wound pretty tight. Have you tried therapy?" Malcolm asked.

He was also watching the girl, but looking like a coiled viper, ready to strike, was hardly going to put her at ease.

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it's coming it's bad

Sherlock Holmes | Sherlock BBC | m/m

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I just want you to know I screamed with happiness for like 10 minutes.

ohmygosh thank you :)

you're welcome :)

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