Sirius Black signed my boob.

[Nodding as she sports a massive grin.]

Seriously. Sirius Mother-Faeking Black.

[Pointing to herself.]

I can now die happy.

[She pauses for a second, still grinning, shaking her head as if she can't believe her luck.]

Best - Kidnapping - Ever.

Who: Thing One and Thing Two, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, Red Fish and Blue Fish. (The Sherlocks)
What: Good question...
Where: Another good question...
When: January 6th, early.
Warnings: Considering the pair, unnecessary levels of snark and potential future mention/discussion of drug abuse.

Sherlock's birthday opens unpromisingly on a brief text exchange — besides the coordinates provided, there is little to deduce about the message, and Sherlock for maybe half a heartbeat is deeply worried that his alternate counterpart might have some kind of mutual celebration planned. However, he discards the thought almost as quickly as it can flit through his mind: surely there cannot be any universe in which a Holmes enjoys his own birthday. The very idea is absurd.

But that being the least likely of scenarios doesn't provide Sherlock with many actual possibilities. Never one to abandon a good mystery — nor, really, any mystery at this point, months of starvation for anything interesting — Sherlock has no problem pushing John's — their — no, John's blasted over-friendly cat off of his chest and taking off to the designated location first thing in the morning.

Not a bad way to avoid whatever kind of birthday breakfast John might have tried to inflict on him, in any case.

Who: Sherlock (CBS) & Mycroft (And Maybe Watson)
What: a 'chat'
When: Saturday, 5th. late afternoon
Where: That, you know, shop.

---

( Drug use within )

Those other doctors certainly picked a very festive time to take me out of my "fictional reality", as they put it. Luckily, I didn't have any plans to disturb. I got a 'Merry Christmas' right before my I'd imagine standard 'Hello, you're fictional' speech yesterday.

Help a poor new arrival out, will you?
On a scale of one to ten: How upset should I be that I'm here? It's so hard to make a clear judgement a place when it's decorated for the holidays.

The inhabitants of this island have gone positively batty. Quite amusing, if I do say so myself. Reminds me of- [He stops himself.] Can't go into that much detail about certain events, now can we?

I'd be inclined to release the files I have on most of you, but frankly, there's too much legwork involved...

Does no one know what's going on in this place? I must have heard every theory under the sun, and no one sounds positive about it except the girl at the police station. And hers didn't sound very credible either.

Regardless, does anyone have any idea where would be a good place to eat? Or what to eat, for that matter. Nothing sounds at all familiar.

[The feed shows a very troubled-looking Anita perched on top of a nondescript gravestone in the island's cemetery. The area around her appears to be otherwise vacant, but there's a low, almost droning sound off-screen that sounds like it might be the continuous rasp of another person's voice. Her eyes dart upwards to look at something behind her phone before she turns her attention back to the camera.]

So it seems like this memory loss is pretty widespread. I'm seeing a lot of people who don't remember anything about themselves. That's pretty well-established by now. I've already met someone nice enough to tell me my name, but I've got another question.

[She turns the camera just long enough to show that there's a young man standing across from her, although he's covered in a fair amount of rot and has begun to decompose. He doesn't seem to be aggressive in the least. In fact, all he's doing is standing there, smiling obliviously, watching Anita patiently as though he's expecting some kind of further interaction.

The camera turns back to focus on Anita's face.]

This guy keeps following me everywhere. He's not doing anything. Just shadowing me.

Who: Sherlock Holmes and Amureka
Where: SOUTH 402
When: Late night.
What: ahahaha. hah. Welp, it's Sherlock and America.

Never did get to this destination having placed word on the 'network' and being carried away with more interesting details. A good exercise in occupying his mind and keeping him from thinking about the larger picture. Ground up, starting over, alone and dealing with the idea that he was not real. His entire life was in a book or on the telly. Until now. A hard concept to wrap his mind around -- and going back to this being alone problem. Perhaps Father's bills had use after all. 

You never appreciate what you have until you don't. Common phrase. Completely inapplicable to Sherlock Holmes. No, he was fine. Work kept him busy, busy was good; boredom was dangerous.

He had details to mull over now, so Holmes finds the building easy enough and the flat. The door unlocked and pushed open just enough for all that light. Ungodly amounts of fake Christmas cheer. Hallmark knockoffs. Singing Santa Clause. Tinsel made to look like greenery, tinsel made to look like snow and ice. Snow flakes, hand woven table runners. He feels bile rising up as, deduced in moment, he concludes his roommate is a lunatic. Possibly an elder woman. (see: lunatic)

He closes the door and stands in the hall for a moment. 

 I think everybody knows how it goes by this point.

Release List

Aziraphale
Anthony J Crowley
Equius Zahhak
Peter Parker
Umi

[Locked to NMPD]

New Patrol Assignments

Police Station: Chief Shepard, Secretary Sheska, Precinct Caterer Frye (part-time).

South Beat: Rogers and Barnes.

East Beat: America and Jenny.

North Beat: Blake and Beckett.  Blake, you're also on Jackass Liaison Duty.

West Beat: Beifong, still solo.

Finally finished witness interviews on the Homecoming murder.  Lydia Martin and Derek Hale both have no solid alibi and documented unusual behavior around the time of the crime.  Forensic evidence, motive, and murder weapon don't link them, so we've got to find a new angle on this one.  What ahev you got for me?

[/Lock]


Holmes.  Holmes.  I've got something for you.  Anytime you two want to come into the station, I've got some files for you to look at.

[ a text message comes across people’s screens: ]
AiZdd0MY+f6y82dJ/gOR2VGTT/5f3NQH2e15tn84omI=

[ After half a minute, another: ]
Can’t think coffee into hand. COA: bullocks.

[ ooc: fyi, The password is three ]