there is nothing more deceptive

[costing]

Who| sherlock holmes & open.
What| an arrival, an exploration, perhaps more than one encounter.
Where| the basement & fourth floor.
When| the beginning of week 5.
Warnings/Notes| to be added as needed.

His first thought is that the entire situation is ludicrous. The outfits, the setting, the very premise. After entering the arena, Sherlock’s first thought is to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation, but that proves easier thought of than done. He takes to rubbing his forearm where the tracker had been implanted, a gesture he knows comes off as a nervous tick but one that he can’t help.

The need for cover doesn’t seem real to him, yet, but he bets on the fact that the explanation he was given was true. So when he finds an overturned car in the basement, he ducks around it for a moment. He tries to take stock, listens carefully. If he hears anyone approach, he’ll try to observe them before making himself known. He isn’t much of a runner, but he’s counting on his ability to distract if it comes down to it.

--

A little while later he can be found at one of the doors to the staircases. He knows that the elevators would be faster, but they’re also more easily controlled. He doesn’t have any of his lock-picking tools with him, but he’s good at improvising. So for several long minutes, Sherlock toys with the locks with bits of thin rubble, trying to rig them open.

He looks as though his concentration on the lock is absolute; he doesn’t turn his head or even pause. But his senses are acute, trained to notice if anyone comes at him. He knows of his own tendency to get lost in his own head, and so tries his utmost to be as alert as he can.

--

And finally, he’ll grow tired of the door’s lock and abandon it. That’s a tough pill for him to swallow—failing at something—but compared to all else going on around him, it’s the smallest on his list of grievances. Instead, now, he turns to the elevators and picks a random number once he’s inside.

He ends up on the fourth floor. He lifts a brow, as he prepares to exit the elevator. A museum. He supposes that’s fitting, given the atmosphere of the arena. A museum is a place of past spectacle. They’ve just now combined it with a live, present one. It’s almost too fitting, in a campy way that makes him feel like he’s being mocked. But he takes a deep breath, rubs at his arm again, and prepares to explore.

( ooc: feel free to encounter him at any point; i'll edit things if anything major occurs. i have a permissions post for deductions here, if there's anything you think i/sherlock should know. and if you'd like any more specific scenarios or want to plot a bit further, please let me know. )

Comments

[polyturtle]

"...Given the story about this place, I doubt London's in much better condition."

Don's not without his own deduction skills. As rusty as they have been in this place. He does know a little bit about accents. He'd pegged Tony Stark, of all people, after all.

...London....wait...

"Though, you're not the only one from around the other side of the pond, if that makes you feel better about the situation."

[costing]

"Likely not. The western world will rise and fall as one, or so most leading conspiracy theorists conjecture." He shrugs. He has particular attachment to both London and New York, now. He doesn't really prefer one to the other.

"I'd think that we'd want to band together as people, in times like this. Not on pettier bases."

[polyturtle]

"You'd be surprised," Don mumbled, quietly, to himself. "Well, even so, you'd be in luck in the national pride contest. You'd have Sherlock Holmes on your side, of all people. That could count for something."

As he spoke to...Sherlock Holmes. Though, of course, he didn't have any clue of this. As far as he knew, the man in front of him was just another British guy who didn't seem to be getting much headway with the garage lock.

[costing]

He tilts his head, at that. "Yes. I am rather fond of being on my own side."

But why would he name Sherlock so casually, as if talking about a third person? Sherlock's not surprised that his name is knows, more at the context that it was presented.

[polyturtle]

"But you're not..." Donatello trailed off. It was clear something wasn't right, from the stunned silence, before his voice spoke again. "We already have a Sherlock Holmes."

[costing]

"Do you." He doesn't phrase that as a question. After a moment's thought, he turns his head. "In that case, I will assume that the redundancy will soon be discovered and that I will be returned back to my point of origin."

[polyturtle]

"That hasn't happened yet," Don replied. "Not since I've been here, at least. You might as well get used to being here."

[costing]

"Is this before or after I get used to the idea of my imminent death?" He'd like to have his priorities straight.

[polyturtle]

"....Both." Don frowned. "You...uh, will die repeatedly in this place. You don't generally die permanently here."

[costing]

"The definition of death implies its permanency. If people come back, here, then what is happening to them isn't death."

His sanity requires he believe this, for now.

[polyturtle]

"...Well, you'll see, then." Another sigh. "So are you going to keep fidgeting with that lock?"

[costing]

"Unless I can find metal shears? Yes." As if it were obvious.

"Elevators are too enclosed for the kind of investigation I'd like."

[polyturtle]

"...I can take a look at it. I could probably jimmy it open."

And hopefully, not be attacked by this new Holmes. Not that he knew much about the other Holmes Doyle and Rathbone aside, of which Don felt he was...neither, but the thought occurred to the turtle that he could use the lock to his advantage, if he undid it.

[costing]

"Could you." His voice is flat, his tone scathing. He's ill-prepared to acknowledge anyone else's ability to complete a task better than he can, himself.

He waves a hand, impatient. "By all means-- go ahead."