The Really Random Scenario Meme

[monkeytailed]

The Really Random Scenario Meme
...called such because 'The I know I said this once already but I'm friends with nothing but enablers meme' was a bit too long.



[insert witty and meaningful flavor text HERE]

- Post with your character.
- Reply to other characters.
- If you need a prompt, hit up the RNG and...

1. You are now trapped in a room. This room could be a kitchen or it could be a secret laboratory or something in between. Either way, you and your companion are forced to solve inane puzzles to get free...though the next room might be more of the same. Seek a way out!

2. You're haunting the land of the living as a ghost, and the only person who can see you is...them. Why are you haunting the land of the living instead of wandering off to the afterlife? I have no clue. It could be unfinished business or revenge, or it could just be a big case of it sounded like a good idea at the time.

3. You're now in a very silly disguise (Don Paolo you are not) and you just bumped into the other person. Are you a superhero? Are you a spy? Are you spying on them?

4. The subway you're on just broke down and you're trapped in it until maintenance shows up or a tow truck drives into the tunnel or...something. The doors won't open, either. It's just you and them, stuck in a dark subway car in a tunnel for a few hours.

5. ...oh wait, nevermind. The reason why the subway (or other mundane object of your choice) broke down is because Prompt 4 crossed over with a sudden disaster movie scenario. The apocalypse! Aliens! Floods and fire! Enjoy the dramatic escape.

6. You're hungry. The fridge is empty. Someone just made themselves a sandwich with the last of the food, leaving only saltine crackers and a mostly empty jar of mayonnaise behind.

- And live long and prosper.

Comments

1

[the_new_sexy]

Where is he? He blinks, and tries to get up. Drugged, definitely. Feels like something narcotic, and his brain isn't quite working the way he prefers it. Sherlock shakes his head and tries to stand. Some room, somewhere in a large house. Wood floors. Hollow sound as he moves. Not the ground floor. Temperature is cold, so possibly somewhere in London. Difficult to say.

Breathing, and not his own, somewhere in the room. Ah, he's not alone.

[aintno_grave]

"Psst!! Hey, guy. Mind helping a fella down?" Yes, the Doctor's on the ceiling hanging from -- well, nothing actually. He's just like floating up there really, like he's a balloon at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.

[the_new_sexy]

Sherlock looks up, startled by the voice above him. All right, not something he was expecting. He can't hear the creaking of wires, so this man is probably held up by some sort of rope or nylon wire. He looks the man up and down.

Tweed jacket: 3+ years old, bought second hand, not tailored to him. Bow tie: 2+ years old. Shirt: 4+ years old, also bought second hand. Trousers, second hand, not tailored. Age: 25-30. No product in hair and...and...

This man was immensely difficult to read on a first glance.

"Where are you strung up?"

[aintno_grave]

"Ah, nowhere. Just -- " He puts his arm out and, realising that it's not long enough for the man to grab onto, sticks out his leg instead. "This isn't very comfortable."

[the_new_sexy]

"Nowhere." The concept of nowhere isn't something he can take logically, so he figures that the wires must be somewhere he can't see, or the man in front of him can't feel.

He looks at the extended leg. Shoes, properly fitted but clearly old, at least 4+ years. Heavy wear on the inside of the sole and the top of the toes, frequent running by an experienced runner. They don't appear to be athletic wear, but they are used athletically. Strange.

He grips the man's ankle and gives him a pull downwards.

"You haven't been up there for very long," he says.

[aintno_grave]

When he's finally back on the ground, he gives the floor a little peck before standing back up. "No, not very long I suppose. Though I don't know how I got up there -- no, scratch that. I do know -- body's reaction to the methenyl trichloride in the drug they gave us, or me at least. Must have been that twenty-six waffles I ate earlier that expelled the gas; gas has nowhere to go, up I go."

He pauses in his talking long enough to hold his hand out to him. "I'm the Doctor by the way."

[the_new_sexy]

"Chloroform," Sherlock confirms. "Makes sense, considering the longevity of my unconsciousness and the fogginess when I woke up, but---"

He has absolutely no idea what the man is talking about when it comes to waffles. He looks down at the extended hand, then back at the man.

"Not a doctor of medicine, I suppose."

[aintno_grave]

Sorry, he got distracted, so now he's intently studying the floors and walls of the room. "Wouldn't necessarily say that, no." He gives the wall a lick before grimacing from the taste. "A granite mixture annnnnnd" -- he pats his person down. "Sonic screwdriver-less."

[the_new_sexy]

"We're in a late victorian house, stripped of all of its wallpaper within the last 24 hours," Sherlock says. "Brick underlay with wood flooring and a hardwood ceiling. Top floor, probably third. Not certain, but I've only just woken up, you'll have to give me a minute."

He turns around. "No door. That is interesting."

[aintno_grave]

The Doctor pauses, smacking his lips rather loudly. "Metallic-y taste; it was a teleporter."

[the_new_sexy]

Sherlock lets out a laugh. "A what?"

[aintno_grave]

"A teleporter." He rubs the back of his neck. "Got anything on you? They seem to have nicked everything from me."

[the_new_sexy]

Teleporter, of course. He hasn't eliminated enough possibles to make something that improbable appear like it could be the truth. Which means this man must be completely insane.

"Brilliant," Sherlock says. "So you'll be of absolutely no use to me whatsoever."

He heads over to the walls and begins pressing his ear up against the stone. He reaches for his magnifying glass, only to find it's been taken. Unsurprising, he supposes, considering the Madman says everything he has is gone.

He drops down to the ground and gives the floor a careful rap. "Four floors up," he corrects himself.

[aintno_grave]

Oh yeah? Wait till he gets you out of this room and you'll be all "Oh my gawd" and he'll be all "Yeah, I know". Expect not really though, cos he's modest. "Good thing I invested in those two weeks of free magic lessons then." Smiling, he pulls a shiny, red button from behind his ear. "Ta-da! Time for the laces now!"

He sits down onto the ground, takes off his shoe, and begins to unlace them, deep in thought.

[the_new_sexy]

Sherlock barely even gives him a look up. The moment he leaves this room, he's deleting the man from his memory. He's irritating. He glances over to him again, though. Mud, right side of shoe, not London mud. Mud, left side of coat pocket, bright red. Possibly desert. How would he end up in London and in two completely different places in the world within the span of not even long enough to let the mud dry?

"Your own personal transport isn't nearby?" he inquires, back down to the floor. Because that is the only logical explanation. This man must have some sort of small, superjet. Or a teleporter, which is significantly less likely.

[aintno_grave]

"I'd say yes." Only because that's usually one of the reasons why people kidnap or try to kill him (aside from the whole "he stops your nefarious plans" bit). There's a bright, red light from the button and shoelace combo on the floor then crackle of electricity before the Doctor lets out a chuckle and points to the door near the ceiling. "I thought something was poking me in the bottom."

He just turns that badassness on and off like a hose, doesn't he?

[the_new_sexy]

He looks upwards at the door.

"Must've lowered us down," he says. He looks down at the button and the shoelace. His brain tries to work out how that was done in the back of his mind, and while he comes up with a few dozen ideas, most of them involve this man being involved in whatever game is being played here. Perhaps, if Sherlock pretends to trust him, then he'll lead him out of this place.

"What do you suggest, then? To get up there?"

[aintno_grave]

"I could always give you a lift."

[the_new_sexy]

Sherlock lets out another incredulous laugh. "Doing your floating gas bit, I assume?"

He looks up to the door. This is all part of the game.

"All right, let's go."

[aintno_grave]

"No, I mean, actually giving you a boost." He pauses to let out a silent burp.

[the_new_sexy]

"Yes, that'll do."

He lifts his leg. "Give us a leg up."

[aintno_grave]

"Right", he lowers then clasps his hands together.

[the_new_sexy]

Sherlock steps up on the man's hand, and then reaches up for the doorknob. To his surprise, it is open. He turns the knob and pushes the door open. Something is blocking the doorway just a bit, but he gives it a proper shove to get it out of the way.

"I don't think we're alone here."

[aintno_grave]

Mental note: upper body is just as important as cardio. "Yeah, I know." He lets out a slow sigh before his eyes snap to attention. "What makes you say that?"

Please not let it be an alien pointing a gun right at them, please not let it be an alien pointing a gun right at them.

[the_new_sexy]

Sherlock pulls himself up and looks down at the corpse that had been blocking the doorway. This is, at least, his area of expertise.

"Don't worry, they're of no threat to us."

He leans his arm down to help the madman up.