[log] Strangely Enough [closed]

[jumpthegun]

Characters: John Watson and Stephen Strange
Location: House 83
Date: Day 189, evening
Summary: John mistakes Stephen for Sherlock, and it's a been a bit of a mess the past few days.
Warnings: Some violence? John is going toe-to-toe with a magic cape.

[John hadn't been able to make it all the way to the chapel today, having to turn back at the graveyard. Cuffing himself in the pews of the chapel might be a bit overly dramatic, but he's planning to stop Sherlock from doing any morgue experiments there. Whatever he has to do. And with everything else going on... well, his head isn't in the best place, but he has enough sense to realize that it would be better to head back and try tomorrow. Sherlock might not have been able to make it there. He hadn't been in the Day 188 obituary. That has to mean something.

He arrives at what appears to be a crazy cat lady's house and there's mewing beneath the floor boards at first that rapidly turns into yowling. John tries to ignore it, and it comes and goes, seeming to wander the house, just beneath the floor. He doesn't know what to do with that, though. Pry everything up? He manages to find a can-opener and a proper blanket, though that's covered in fur. He doesn't care. John sets himself up in the living room just for a little bit to watch the door until lockdown. He's heard about anomalies breaking in through them, and would rather not tempt fate.

The doctor doesn't pull out his tablet, so he's fairly inconspicuous to anyone entering the dim house.]

Comments

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen is tired. The initial rush of finding himself in a new place with problems to solve, fresh from staving off the apocalypse, has faded and left him with the grim reality of being completely and utterly alone and unequipped to take any meaningful action. If he had the energy to be optimistic he'd tell himself that his inability to sleep is probably the root of his inability to crack whatever's holding his powers at bay.

It's dark and the tablet has already chimed its warning when he finds another house standing in the rubble. He pushes his way inside with an audible sigh, slowing his steps as he moves to shuck off his pack from under his cloak.]

[jumpthegun]

[John is already still when the door opens, but he practically stops breathing for a moment as the silhouette enters. A part of him is hoping it's the Joker. The man has to still be in the area. But, no. It's better than the Joker. He would recognize the profile of that nose and the slant of the forehead anywhere. What doesn't quite register is the beard and the hair that's all wrong, not to mention the cloak, and the lack of accompanying serial killer.

The doctor rises from the sofa he's sat on quietly, and then he's not terrible quiet at all as he strides forward, winds up, and aims a hard punch at what he thinks is Sherlock's cheek--avoid the nose and teeth. John's voice is a snarl when he speaks, the words thrown in tandem with the hit.]

You utter cock! You tell me not to leave you, and the moment I'm away more than an hour or two you run off with Sylar? What the hell were you thinking?!

[thewarningafter]

[To say Stephen is surprised by this turn of events would be an understatement. When he first catches the movement out of the corner of his eye he has just one panicked second in which to assume that this is it, he's seeing his first anomaly and it's going to kill him because it's already in the house and it's not fair, he only just got here --

It's an entirely corporeal fist that smashes into his face and sends him stumbling, though, his arms belatedly rising to block any further attacks as he sputters an indignant protest.]

What the hell!

[John's real tip-off that he's got the wrong man, however, will come when the heavy cloak draped over Stephen's shoulders suddenly isn't draped there at all. It whips itself free, twisting past Stephen to launch itself at his attacker, heavy fabric aiming to wrap itself around his throat.]

[jumpthegun]

What...?

[The accent throws John off completely, and he stops, blinking one eye at the other man. And then there are all the little details he'd missed filtering in--You see, but you do not observe, John. What he also doesn't observe until it's too late to do anything about it is the cloak.

The attack cloak?]

Gck!

[Both of John's hands go up to grasp the thing trying to strangle him, and yank hard to get some space between it and his neck as he stumbles backward, fighting the cloak.]

[thewarningafter]

Enough!

[Stephen saw that moment of surprise, and he can see just as well that his cloak is doing its damnedest to strangle the guy. His voice is firm if not exactly calm.]

Let him go. Now.

[Thankfully, it listens. The portion of it wrapped around John's neck in the effort to throttle him relaxes and it allows itself to be pulled free, retreating to shake itself out and hang in midair between the two men with a weirdly watchful sort of air.]

[jumpthegun]

[John gasps and places one hand to his neck.]

You're not... oh, God. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I thought you were-

[He coughs and swallows a few times wincing.]

I apologize, Doctor... uh, Strange. [Because that's the only other person this could be.] I thought you were my- I thought you were Sherlock Holmes. [My friend, the idiot known as Sherlock Holmes.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen puts his own hand to his face, feeling out the bruise that will form. He stares at the other man, conclusions clicking rapidly into place.]

Watson. You're John Watson.

[The cloak remains hovering in front of John, making little shifts to match his position, keep itself placed precisely between them. For the moment, Stephen doesn't feel much need to tell it to knock it off.]

Guess that answers the question of whether Solomons was lying about your friend's face.

[jumpthegun]

[There's a wince at Alfie's name, but that could be interpreted as embarrassment. Wait. How did Alfie know he'd punched Sherlock? He'd only mentioned Sylar. Sherlock wouldn't have told him.]

Yes, sir. You can call me John. [He takes a step back, not from fear, but to give Stephen and the cloak a little more room.]

I, uh... had a bit of a row with Sherlock. You look rather like him in the dark. I can just... go sit on the sofa for the night. The bedroom's a little ways in.

[thewarningafter]

[He'd meant the resemblance; if Stephen knew how John had interpreted it he'd be wondering just how much punching that particular friendship involves. He does catch the wince, but he assumes it's still embarrassment over hitting him.]

Did you just offer to put yourself in time out?

[jumpthegun]

[Don't make it sound weird, Stephen.]

I'm offering to step away. I think it might make... sorry, do you have a name? [That's addressed to the cloak.] I really am sorry. I thought he was someone else.

[Is it a sentient cape? It seems to be. John's going to treat it like one until he's told otherwise.]

[thewarningafter]

It's called the Cloak of Levitation.

[Safe assumption to make, really. Stephen shucks his backpack and tsks at the cloak, making a shooing motion at it for good measure. It ripples, no doubt expressing some opinion or another, but shifts a little further away from John. Stephen puts his hand to his face again, working his jaw.]

Is there anyone else here with you?

[jumpthegun]

Bit of a mouthful. Does it have a nickname? Levi, or something? [You should absolutely nickname your cloak, Stephen.]

I'm alone for the moment. Getting close to lockdown. [John starts moving back to the sofa--not for a time out, just for his pack--while he speaks.] Might be just us. Um... you're new. Have you been able to get any food apart from the nutrition bars? I have chicken nuggets, green beans, and fruit cups from the school, if you'd like.

[thewarningafter]

And here I thought it rolled right off the tongue.

[He does mutter a thoughtful little "Levi" under his breath, though. Maybe, John. Maybe.]

So you were sitting in the dark by yourself. That's not weird at all. Do you always give fruit cups to the people you attack?

[jumpthegun]

[John's sitting in the living room again, it's the dead of night because he can't sleep, and Sylar apparently can't, either. His voice rises to an outright snarl on the last part of the conversation, and then his tablet crashes against the wall after he throws it.

The doctor is all but shaking with anger. How dare he. How dare Sylar say that. How dare another bloody universe exist where it didn't happen. Where it was all some sort of trick.

And what if it is true? That little voice in his head, the one that's needled about that bullet wound, about how evasive Sherlock has been. What if it's true?

John curls himself up on the sofa, knees up against his chest and arms wrapped around them. His face is pressed to his knees and he's keeping a stiff upper lip. He doesn't need this twice in as many nights. He doesn't need to lose it completely again.]

cw reference to auto wreck; injury

[thewarningafter]

[Sleep hasn't come to Stephen, either, except in fits and starts. That's not new and his dreams are nothing to look forward to if he does ever manage to drift off, but he's still at least trying.

He's just dozing off again when a crash from the other room jolts him awake, and for a second his sleepy, misfiring brain mistakes it for the sound of his car striking the guard rail in that moment before he and it were hurled into the darkness below. Reality comes back to him in bits and pieces as he lays gasping and clutching at the mattress -- stillness, bed, Levi the cloak snugged around him as a blanket against the chill. He's not sure initially whether the sound he heard was real at all, but convinces himself it must have been as his heart rate calms. It won't hurt to check, anyway.

His own tablet in hand for a flashlight, he creaks open the door into the living room, half expecting to find Dr. Watson asleep and the rest of it a figment of an overworked mind. But...no. Definitely not, he thinks, catching sight of Watson's tablet where it came to rest. He takes a couple of steps into the room, looking back at Watson himself again.]

So...do you want to...talk about that?

[jumpthegun]

No.

[It comes, muffled, before John raises his head up. He doesn't actually look at Stephen. His voice is gruff, still strained with keeping his anger in check.]

I dunno. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up.

[thewarningafter]

I couldn't sleep anyway.

[It's a surprise to see Dr. Watson acting like this when he seemed to have things together so well earlier in the evening...but maybe not such a surprise considering how he'd acted when Stephen first arrived. Another row with Sherlock after the joking of earlier?

He steps further into the room and finds a chair in which to sit, leaving Watson's tablet where it fell for now. Okay, so he doesn't want to talk about it. They can talk about something else.]

There seems to be a cat stuck under the floor, did you notice that? Been keeping me up all night.

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. It's been here since I got in. I'd call the cat to ask him to translate, but I'm the reason he died in the school a few days ago. Didn't feel like imposing. [This is a great topic of choice, Stephen.]

Never let anyone or anything go down the vents here, Dr. Strange. They're filled with mechanical spiders.

[thewarningafter]

[...Great. Because that's not depressing or disturbing.]

I'll keep that in mind.

[Another awkward pause ensues, followed by another slightly desperate attempt to reroute the conversation.]

We could always pull up the floorboards.

[jumpthegun]

[John realizes what Stephen's doing, and he doesn't exactly want to discourage the man's kindness, but at the same time...]

Have you got any tools for prying the boards up? I've taken a recording for Sherlock. He wanted to make a catalog for all the strange things people have heard in the houses.

[thewarningafter]

[He has to give it a moment's thought, but of course he comes up blank.]

Good point. Is that something he's likely to share with the rest of the class?

[jumpthegun]

[John's jaw sets and his voice is tighter.]

We'll see. If he doesn't, I'll share it out.

[thewarningafter]

[Ah-hah. That's a fresh round of fighting with Sherlock, then, given that they seemed to have made up earlier. Carefully, now.]

I appreciate that.

[A momentary pause.]

Look, I know it isn't any of my business, but that offer to talk about it still stands.

[jumpthegun]

[John is silent for a long few seconds.]

What d'you know about the Sherlock Holmes... stories, Dr. Strange?

[thewarningafter]

Probably more than you're going to like.

[No point dancing around it. He'd wanted Dr. Watson to be honest with him, after all, when he thought he might have shown up in those films.]