ataraxion | CASE 006; TEXT

It is. Caring is inconvenient.

We're capable of worse. This is minor.

[ "Capable of worse"? He threw himself off a fucking waterfall to keep Watson safe. Yeah, he's capable of worse. ]

it's not calculated, and it's entirely emotionally charged and impulsive.

it's been ages.

It is.

Do you know what's terrifying?
It's not the monsters, the smile. Moriarty. Space.
It's the fact that I'm calm.

When was the last time?

depending. expound upon your definition of "calm".

My hands are still. Terrifying.

and we both know we've participated in stakeouts that have lasted up to a manner of hours. patience and stillness may not be one in the same, but they do walk hand in hand.

why does it upset you? i don't want riddles, vague suggestions. i want your answer.

Emotions should be left deleted.

But they come back. They don't stay in the recycling bin,
they worm back into files and folders like the viruses that they are.
Sentiment is the dusty trunk in your brain attic and
you can't move it away and it gathers mold.

It's charged. It's impulsive. It's desperate. It's - nauseating.

And on the plane of things, I've yet to actually feel regret.

What do you deduce?

induce, actually; to deduce would be my sharing my thoughts aloud with you. what i'm doing now is deducing, should i so choose.

'virus' is an apt explanation, an illness to which there's little foolproof cure; persistent and (oftentimes) lying dormant within one's system. of course you've emotion. of course you've sentiment. you're human, as much as, sometimes, you'd desperately and achingly not like to be, as it would make your job magnificently easier. but you know better that it's there to stay, a useless necessity, an oxymoron in and of itself. you've wished more than once that you could be mere stone and marble, unfeeling and much less apt to things that hurt and wound more than any hook ever could.

the problem with marble and stone is that it cannot think for itself, and it is just that. a bloody rock. you are remarkable. and if you weren't human, you would no longer be remarkable. you would just be.

that being said, your metaphor is absolutely heinous, and you must step away from the poetry books; i don't care how little there is to read on this devil's trap of a ship.

Edited 2012-05-18 05:15 (UTC)

Considering we had a donkey tell us to cut the poetics out.
It may be best.

If this were John, no one would question. Then again -
if this were John, I'd have probably done something worse.
We would have done something worse.

In this ship, I don't have casework. I don't have the chase.
Mysteries are common place, but they cannot be solved because
what we term as impossible is constantly being redefined.

He stops me from stagnating. It's enough to warrant the gesture.

you've now insinuated i'd throw myself into the unknown for an utterly pointless and questionable reason out of mere sentiment for another human being. while john watson's importance is indisputable and the fact hardly even needs to exist, having been said, i still find the claim insulting and baseless.

this list, ominous as it may be, has made little to no sinister claims. it could just as easily be a list of those who have won prizes as it could be those meant for the noose. my problem, sherlock the first, lies not within your affection for neal caffrey, [ even if it does, a lot, and he thinks so much less of Sherlock because of it, actually, ] nor does it with your necessity for distraction in a place so dull and absolutely without incident.

[ Another point if insult. Insinuating the same doesn't hold for Holmes, and that Sherlock's suffering is any worse than his own. He's actually angry now, that he's thinking about it. Emotions truly are so bothersome. ]

where i take issue is your blind attempt at self-sacrifice in the name of a man you've just met mere months ago without even taking into question the importance of someone who came far previous, who is so, so very much more than mere man, flesh, and blood.

your happiness has somehow become the most important factor in this entire equation, more so than the meaning behind this list, more so than neal caffrey, and most importantly, and the fact that you've so annoyingly left twisting in the wind like a tattered flag, john watson.

[ So- Yeah. Holmes is a little irritated with his younger self. ]

Base then.

Rudimentary for me to point out that first our lives are based on chasing the
unknown. It's a weak play, one fueled by sentiment, this fact is acknowledged
but it doesn't exempt it from being a play. Why wait for answers when
you can go to it? Regardless of why - I'm doing it doesn't exempt it
as a method of gathering intel.

The list had a header entitled 'Try not to die'.
What aren't you counting as a sinister claim?
The intent is there.

[ The presumption of course that Holmes' own chases for distraction are doing any better. That causes him to pause, why was time an object? It didn't take Irene Adler long to make an impact. It took James Moriarty then 20 minutes to create a fleeting impression. John shot a man for him in 42 hours. Time wasn't subjective to interest. ]

[ The fact that he brings up John is another matter entirely. ]

[ That makes his blood run cold. ]

[ Fuck emotions, seriously. ]

If you're bringing John up, you'll care to note that our relationship
has fallen into a pattern I'm not particularly keen on.
He has duties, god knows - being the only doctor worth knowing on this damn ship.
Do notice, your solutions for distraction take up whatever time he's not spending in the Medbay.
He's important. He's the only friend I've got.
I haven't left and I would have done worse if John's name was on this list.
But you know that John needs me less.

[ the because he has you is implied but not spoken. ]

Edited 2012-05-23 11:13 (UTC)

[ Holmes could laugh aloud at what he's reading, but it's only text, and it's not a laughing matter anyway. There's a lot of importance to what's being said here, on either side, and as Sherlock types and as Holmes reads, he's seeing more and more of himself - it's such a strange thing, an experience one so rarely gets to see, when they can look into a lens and see their self, see their own actions and heartbeats and breaths. ]

[ Not identical but similar enough that it burns in strange ways. And he's grown and he knows he has, but it makes him wonder where he's faltered. ]

[ A million rebuts die in his fingers. The mocking smile, the pointed list (with pieces missing or are they missing the pieces?), so many a grand question. The large juxtaposition with don't believe what they say in sharp pursuit of try not to die; there's too many discrepancies and cracks in this case and Sherlock is being volatile and so young and it's making him angry. ]

[ It doesn't happen often. Annoyance, absolutely. Skulking disapproval. But anger- ]

i always have been such an idiot.

[ Sherlock has always thought it strange. He's a derivative of Holmes that much has been hard wired into his system, it's not the other way around. When the name Sherlock Holmes is expected he's never the one being asked for. He's been questioned on a lack of victorian inflection; on his youth - on the absence of a deerstalker. He's the version people aren't quite as familiar with, the one people attribute the: "you're kidding?" after he says Sherlock Holmes. ]

[ Holmes is a little bit more defined. He's the one in the stories that Kirk and Jim are familiar with. Holmes has, as he recalls, saved the world from war . He's managed so much less in comparison and that shouldn't bother him as much as it does, but it's thoughts he comes back to frequently. ]

[ It's a compounding of ideas. ]

[ In space he's without casework, without real use for his talents. Jim's upper hand in what he knows grates on every nerve of his body. He's continuously met with impossibilities. Contingents of data that are corrupted and invaluable. Here he is void of his mysteries and the applause that comes with John's blog. Holmes makes him compete with himself subconciously. Except the competition is one sided, literal and on the plane of things probably doesn't matter. He's working on a name that's not entirely his anymore in a situation where he has nothing put to his advantage. Holmes, he thinks, has always been luckier of the two. ]

[ This ship is worse than a car in a wasteland in Surrey. ]

[ Neal started as an escape. A distraction. The closest thing he could get to consistent casework. Neal gave him so much to work with. So much to think about. He doesn't know how or when it happened for either of them. But somewhere on the course of time - four months in and declarations (stupid ones) of self sacrifice on both ends Neal stopped being just a case. And suddenly there's another human being that's important outside of John and Sherlock doesn't know how he fits. ]

[ Sherlock doesn't even need to guess. He can hear the sarcasm practically from the letters in the text. There is a feeling in his gut that triggers emotional responses like annoyance, frustration and utter agreement. Holmes makes him feel childish and in a lot of ways Holmes is who he wants to be. He wants the cold edges of raw calculation.The carriage. The sharpness. The detachment. But mostly he wants John's attention back. ]

Define.

[ While, similarly, Holmes found himself happening upon a somewhere where Sherlock had already well-established himself, and showing up had introduced a chorus of, 'another Sherlock Holmes?'. A name that he had so selfishly called his own - though absolutely rightly so - for so many years was suddenly someone else's, and it was a mystery he'd never been particularly able to unwind, though he wasn't entirely sure what mystery there was either, other than the confusion that existed within his own mind and emotions regarding the issue. ]

[ Intensified, perhaps, by the fact that he'd just essentially died before he'd showed up here. He'd been expecting his name to be held with a bit of remorse if recognized at all - or, alternatively, thinking he'd been some mannered of captured at the time, successfully irritated or he'd even settle for mildly vexed. Instead it had been abject surprise across the board, and still now he questioned whether his name was intended for him or not when he heard it spoken aloud. ]

[ It's perhaps a conundrum he should recognize might exist within the other Sherlock as well as himself, but he always has been particularly short-sighted when so blinded by his own shortcomings. They're annoying in the fact that they're so distracting, and particularly in a case like this where it shouldn't bother him - why, it's no fault of his own - but it does. ]

no. shan't. that would be cheating. perhaps i'll just let it fester until you've unraveled it yourself.

[ He's hardly about to give himself an answer, even if it's to a particularly difficult question. Especially if it's to a particularly difficult question, actually. And deny himself the thought process? ]

[ in odd ways, they're both entirely selfish. the confusion was mutual and against him, Sherlock feels - for lack of a better term - amateur. he was younger and more prone to impulses and in his opinion - Holmes kept it together a lot better. (wow, Sherlock what is your definition of keeping it together). Holmes had traits that Sherlock envied almost. ]

[ Sherlock likewise did the same. ]

[ he stared at the text for a moment, collecting. calming himself down with processes and systems. ]

[ process? Sherlock did find it comforting. This is something, he'll never admit to is that the Tranquility has him at a state of constant redefinition. He continuously has to work out what ranks as a possibility but he's put in area where anything and everything can happen and that lack of limits makes him vulnerable. this is a ship where the dead can come back to life, where corridors are endless and the small amount of things that make sense shouldn't. there was nothing to discredit, nothing to approve so he doesn't know where to start. a lot of the earlier messages is him trying to find footing. his mind races between solution after solution ]

[ he's reanalyzing what could or would be what Holmes defines as idiotic and it's bothering him. he's trying to unravel because there are a lot of things that could be flagged for idiocy. He types it in: Is this about John? | before he deletes it and flares up with annoyance. ]

Why does it bother you?

[ Ah, there we are. He's pieced it together, presumably. ]

[ This ship is certainly off-putting for anyone so logically bound as they are; toxic, at best. Particularly, Holmes would note, does note, witheringly, for someone so technologically disinclined as he is. Showing up aboard the Tranquility has not only thrown him for a loop or several on a monumental scale, but it's really and honestly opened his eyes to just how little he actually and truly knows. The sentiment, he's sure, is similar to Sherlock, who even feels more at home with a mobile in his hand than Holmes ever will. ]

[ There is little he is inherently sure of here, which is pitiful and he recognizes it as such first and foremost. His intellect, fully intact. His understanding, less so. Sherlock is absolutely right in that this ship has successfully rewritten any solid definition of what Holmes has had of right and impossible and whatever is in between. It's a terrifying place where he's wrong so very often, and when his own mind is called into question, he doesn't quite know where to fit his puzzle pieces anymore. ]

[ Watson used to be one, something of which he was inherently sure. Now there is a John as well, and nothing is in the right order anymore. ]

[ He wonders, idly, why it doesn't bother Sherlock more. He wonders, idly, Sherlock, John, Watson, too, debate fretfully about where who begins and who ends. ]

it shouldn't. [ And yet it does? ] irrelevant, of course. entirely based on opinion, and even drawn partially in theory.

a far more engaging question may be if you reciprocate the same upon yourself.

CASE 006; TEXT

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