Case File #oo4: The Forgotten Problem
[ This is a bit backdated, to Wednesday. Afternoon-ish? ]
[ These past few days had been irritating. He'd been plagued with this... whateverness that was paired with opening that letter - anybody smart wouldn't have opened it; anybody clever like him couldn't have resisted - he kept remembering somebody he hadn't QUITE before, which wasn't right. The memories were very crisp, and he remembered always having them NOW, but not before today, so why? He couldn't have forgotten, he never forgot anything, so the memories, what, had been taken? The memories had been implanted? The memories were of a real person or not a real person? ]
[ Well, no, he was here, he was here in Mayfield. ]
[ He didn't like this, the being sure of something with that niggling feeling in the back of his head, the never knowing if he was right or not. It was tiring. Furthermore, it was annoying. He had to think. Quite a bit. And smoking in the house just got him nagged at, which was also annoying. So he was on a walk. ]
[ ( a ) Sherlock has a gun yayyyyyy!! Actually, public shooting is probably rather rude, but he's trying to shoot soda bottles off the back of a bench in the park, here's to hoping, er. He doesn't hit anyone. ]
//
[ or, ( b ) Sherlock is parked on the bench, smoking up a storm. He is taking up the whole thing, feet pressed against one arm, his back against the other. There is an impressive pile of cigarette butts and he looks incredibly distracted. ]
[ Have fun! ]
[ link ]
[ These past few days had been irritating. He'd been plagued with this... whateverness that was paired with opening that letter - anybody smart wouldn't have opened it; anybody clever like him couldn't have resisted - he kept remembering somebody he hadn't QUITE before, which wasn't right. The memories were very crisp, and he remembered always having them NOW, but not before today, so why? He couldn't have forgotten, he never forgot anything, so the memories, what, had been taken? The memories had been implanted? The memories were of a real person or not a real person? ]
[ Well, no, he was here, he was here in Mayfield. ]
[ He didn't like this, the being sure of something with that niggling feeling in the back of his head, the never knowing if he was right or not. It was tiring. Furthermore, it was annoying. He had to think. Quite a bit. And smoking in the house just got him nagged at, which was also annoying. So he was on a walk. ]
[ ( a ) Sherlock has a gun yayyyyyy!! Actually, public shooting is probably rather rude, but he's trying to shoot soda bottles off the back of a bench in the park, here's to hoping, er. He doesn't hit anyone. ]
//
[ or, ( b ) Sherlock is parked on the bench, smoking up a storm. He is taking up the whole thing, feet pressed against one arm, his back against the other. There is an impressive pile of cigarette butts and he looks incredibly distracted. ]
[ Have fun! ]
[ link ]