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(no subject)

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (

of_deduction) and YOU (especially those there are memory plots with.)
Date: Through out the memory Event (Feb 8th-12th)
Location: Several Different Locations (Home, KPD, The University, and some other places.
Situation: Memory Sharing.
Warnings/Rating: Drugs.

{ A. The University. 8th-9th }

[ Due to the extremely dangerous nature of the drug known as 'Dust' Sherlock's opting to look at it under the microscope in the lab space he'd been provided by Tony. He's wearing a mask to be safe and hung a sign on the door mentioning dangerous chemicals were currently in use. Or there was a sign, it might have fallen down at some point. ]

[ Don't forget your lab safety folks. ]

{ B. KPD 10th }

[ Sherlock is back at the KPD, though this time his mind isn't so much on making a good impression so he strolls right to the receptionist-the same one he seemed to have offended upon first meeting her. He glances at her briefly and offers a small, half smile. ]

I have a crime to report.

[ He states confidently. ]

{ C. Not!221b 11th-12th }

[ This has been a week. He's learned more about people around him than he usually does from his observations just by standing around them. He's not complaining as he does have a rather insatiable desire to know things but he's not so keen on others knowing things about his memories. ]

[ He hasn't avoided going out as there is still plenty of work for him to be doing but at the moment he's back to reviewing his notes on the Kedanese language and sipping tea. At least he's no longer sick. ]

{ D. Provide a Starter 8th-12th }

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"If I asked you both to forget everything you'd learned and leave it at this, would you?"

"Why are you asking?" That would be a no.

"Call it a test. There are two kinds of help. I prefer not to accept this kind of it."

Like his parents, trying to scare him into accepting their offer to come back to America and let Interpol take care of it.

"Do you expect John and I to do nothing if something were to happen to you?"

"If I gave you a way to find me if something happens, would you drop it?"

Sherlock sets his cup of tea down and considers the compromise. It probably more important to have a way to find the kid if nothing else. If those men from the memory were to turn up they wouldn't be able to contact their organization do anticipating the moves of this organization would hardly be relevant.

"Yes." He finally decides. "I think that will be more than sufficient."

Conan slowly removes his glasses and presses a switch concealed in the frame, allowing a grid pattern to appear in the lenses with a dot blinking right in the center.

"I don't have a spare set of glasses with me, but find a way to copy this signal and you'll be able to find me."

This kid is just full of surprises.

"May I?" Sherlock holds his hand out to see the glasses. He's sure he could find someone that could copy the signal-even with their limited resources.

Conan holds out the glasses for Sherlock to take, but as their fingers touch, another memory begins to play through Conan's mind.

The scene, a dimly lit coin locker room. Conan was crouched down, hidden in the shadows of a row of lockers as he eavesdropped on two familiar voices.

"What are you doing? The meeting wasn't till tomorrow."

Conan flinches back in recognition of the voice. Gin. This wasn't part of the plan.

"Actually the time was changed because Itakura couldn't do it then."

"So you decided it was best to give him the upper hand?"

"No the time was decided by me. He couldn't open his mail at his house due to a blackout. So I called him up. But look! I wasn't able to dispose of him, but I did get the program. And his heart is in bad shape. He won't last much longer."

"Oi. Do you know why there was tape on this? To get your fingerprints. Since you couldn't peel it off while wearing your gloves. And you lit a cigarette when you didn't see the person you came to meet. This saliva will tell him your blood type. And look, he also wanted to find our hideout. There's a tracking device hidden in this CD case. This is a clever fox."

"Itakura-"

"No, this wasn't Itakura. Extreme climate places stress on the heart. Someone in that condition would never go to a place like that during a snowstorm. This was most likely someone he hired. But they made a mistake. This case has been wiped off, but its still giving off heat."

"That means?"

"Yeah, he must be hiding nearby."

Conan flinches back against the wall in his hiding place as he hears the distinct sound of two guns being cocked. Their footsteps were quickly approaching his hiding place. Taking a quick look around, he silently slips into one of the coin lockers. He holds himself completely silent as he pouts all of his attention into listening for the two Organization members. He hears their footsteps moving up and down the aisles of the locker room..

"I guess there's nowhere for him to hide around here."

"There's always somewhere."

He hears their footsteps stop right in front of the locker he had concealed himself in.

"He's not here. What do we do now?"

Conan hears the sound of a locker opening just above him. A second one. With horror, he sees a sliver of light appear at the edge of his locker's door. And then it stops.

"What am I doing? An adult couldn't fit in here."

And the door is latched again. He hears their voices begin to get quieter as they move away.

"Let's disguise and leave. The cops could be on their way."

"Because of the person Itakura hired?"

"Aah. Always be on your guard. Because someone is investigating us. A fox as clever as a detective."

They were gone. But Conan, still panicked and breathing harshly didn't dare leave yet. They could be waiting for him to follow. Waiting with an ambush.

He stays, his brain frantically working over everything he had learned. Haibara had been with them to invent strange drugs. But Itakura was a software engineer. He had nothing to do with drugs. What was the program he had created for them?

Sherlock begins to look the glasses over but he's lost in another memory-this one not his own. He watches the scene unfold with growing suspense-it's like getting wrapped up in a movie where you know the main character will survive. It's a memory so there's no possible way those men-the same ones from the previous memory managed to find the boy as last he checked, Conan was still very much alive.

The flat fades back into view again and the memory has stopped. That had been just a little intense for Sherlock and his attention focuses back to Conan. He should say something to bring the child back to present time so he doesn't get trapped in his own memory.

"...Conan?" He offers softly at first. The boy has only been forced to share two memories with Sherlock thus far and already they've been extremely enlightening. "Are you alright?"

Conan doesn't respond. His mind was still back in that coin locker,remembering the panic and the feeling of being trapped in that tiny dark space for hours, too afraid of an ambush to leave.

Sherlock starts to reach forward to touch the boy's shoulder but thinks better of it. What is he supposed to do? Is the memory still playing for him somehow? Or is it just that disturbing.

"Conan?" He says a little louder. "It's alright, you're safe. It's okay."

Conan flinches back from Sherlock as he snaps out of the memory. His breathing is unsteady for a moment as he fights down the lingering panic.

"It's alright." He repeats, raising his hands to show he meant no harm.

"What was that about?"

He looks away.

"It was nothing. Most likely just a reaction to whatever is making this happen."

He just gives Conan a very unimpressed look for even trying to get away with something that lame and obvious.

"That's not what I meant-That was a memory, was it not?"

"Yes. From a while ago."

There was no use to denying that.

"Okay. A while ago." Sherlock nods in agreement. "But it still upsets you."

"It doesn't matter."

It was nothing more than a memory. It was completely illogical to still let something like affect him.

Yes, Sherlock has been through torture and several other unpleasant things in his life but he'd not the one that had been diagnosed with PTSD-that had been John. Meaning that Sherlock isn't entirely sure how to press the issue or even if he should. Conan says that it doesn't matter-but he can see that it does.

"Fine." He finally decides, taking another sip of his tea. "You can go." He dismisses the boy. He needs to talk to John about all this anyway and work out some kind of plan to keep the kid safe-even if it's just to keep him safe from himself.

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