[ The communications device is placed haphazardly. Perhaps on a shelf, but regardless the orientation makes it so that video is tilted in a less than pleasing manner. Sherlock and John are both in frame; entirely unaware that the video has them both captured. Sherlock is all jitters and small animations of tension. From the rhythmic taps of fingers to the trouser end of the jumpsuit to the quick paces back and forth in the gaps between John and Sherlock’s bed. ]

I was hoping for more concrete advice. [ A hint of seething; irritation; perhaps desperation. ] I was under the presumption that you had added space into your repertoire, John Three Continents Watson. [ More pacing; his expression turns legitimately confused ] Help me.

[ John sighs - he’s never living down that particular disclosure of information, is he? He rubs at his brow with his thumb, though his eyes follow Sherlock for some of the walk. The communicator in his own hands seems to have been forgotten for the moment. ]

What are you on about? Advice? What are you trying to do now?

I’m not helping you sweet-talk any more women into stealing you things.


( cut due to length. )

[[ OOC: HI GUYS FEEL FREE TO SPAM THIS POST WITH INAPPROPRIATE TERRIBLE DATING ADVICE FOR THE CONSULTING DETECTIVE. THIS GRATUITOUS DISPLAY OF BROMANCE HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO YOU BY JULYA AND EFFY: BROMANTIC PRODUCTIONS. BLUE IS SHERLOCK, BROWN IS JOHN :D ]]

[a little fumbling, a nice view of the pad of someone's thumb, vague muttering, and oh-- voilà! there is an old man with a great big hat and a small pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose peering at the camera with a mix of curiosity and hard scrutiny.

forsooth, he speaks:] --my, this interface is extraordinary... Image, sound, and text... Never even considered--

[oh hi. he's talking to himself. realising this, he clears his throat, smiles a little embarrassedly, and directs his gaze not at the communicator itself but at his unseen audience.] Apologies. This technology, though, it's all so advanced. Rivalling even my own, in its own way. [though the way he says it, he doesn't sound particularly convinced... ahem.]

My name is Qilby and, ah, I am an Eliatrope. And no stranger to space travel, for what it's worth. But to tell the truth, I hadn't expected to be on the move again quite so soon.

In any case, I understand we have quite the long journey ahead of us. Seeing as we've got the time, I'd be very interested to hear about all your worlds. Where you've come from, what life was like. Perhaps what you were doing before you... Arrived here. [le tired smile. he doesn't seem to still be groggy from the jump; maybe that's just how he normally looks.] I'm afraid I have nothing to offer in return but my own story, but I'd understand if listening to an old man blather on doesn't sound particularly appealing...

[a pause, and casually, as if an afterthought:] ... And I understand that there are people I may talk to about helping out on the ship?


[ooc: feel free to notice he's chillin' in the common area of one of the passenger's quarters, if you'd prefer action!]

[o hey it's Wily again, dressed, as usual, in an absolutely impeccable suit. From the looks of things, he's somewhere in the passenger quarters, and he's completely surrounded by musical insturments of all kinds. Most look like they've been gathering dust.

He himself has an acoustic six string. He's lounging up against a wall, and he's very casually playing the guitar riffs from this.]

Thought some of you folks might want to know that I found a nice stash of instruments down here in the passenger quarters. Just. You know. Relevant to your interests.

[Chord!]

There's all types, too; classical stuff for you classical types, violins and such, some horns, got a few keyboards and I think there's a grand piano hiding back there somewhere. No clue if it's in tune. And, of course, there's some electric guitars and amps...

Like I said. Just thought you might be interested.

[ There's a jostle, and a familiar, fluctuating voice can be heard. ]

Hang on, I think I fucking got it. It's all in my pocket and shit, all up in here. Cozy like a motherfucking rainbow.

[ He laughs, and it's more like a sputtering chortle and--yup, there it is. A tell-tale honk as the gray-skinned troll pulls the device out of wherever it's been--it looks like under a sheet of some sort--and there's a huge clutter of various things strewn around the room. One of which is the mattress that used to make up the bed. ]

Motherfuck, there we go. So hey, world. I've got something pretty motherfucking important to share with you.

[ And, in the corner, a pie tray filled with neon green goo, half eaten. One of his very last pies. And also in the background that's--

Yup. The second Sherlock Holmes. ]

All you motherfuckers, I've come to a realization. This ship. Is, like, a motherfucking case. We need to solve.

[Hello Tranquility, have a grey-skinned, bull-horned kid with a stutter. He's tinged with a slight orangey-brown blush, because addressing an entire ship is kind of a big deal!]

Hi, everyone! Uh. I'm Tavros and as you can, I guess, probably see, I'm a troll. Or, if you can't see, please know that I am that. I do not want to exclude anyone, based on their preferred mode of sensory input.

So, I want to offer to anyone who is experiencing difficulty with an animal, because there are some on the ship apparently, my skills of communing with them, to better understand and change their behavior, and thus end any difficulties experienced. I, uh, definitely want everyone to know that I am here to be helpful in whatever way I can, basically!

[This is important! You don't get to be in the fleet if you're dead weight.]

On that note, the being-helpful one, uh, I guess since there are a lot of trolls now, and the ship has a lot of humans, or other species that now look human, if you have questions about how troll society works, I will try to answer them. Uh, our culture is pretty different, and misunderstandings may occur. Possibly someone has done this already, but I thought I would offer also. I am, uh, generally pretty open to cultural exchange, and that sort of thing, and it would, I guess, be good to work together while we're all stuck here.

Um. That's all. Bye.

[Okay, kid, good job, you did it. Now spend a willpower point to not throw the comm out the door and cower in your blanketpile.]

[ And the video flips on to a man in need of a shave, perched on the floor in front of a veritable pigsty. It's hard to make out what's behind him, but the bed appears to have been successfully flipped over, the mattress askew. The wall, already, is absolutely littered with notes, and though the amount is paltry so far - he's only been here a week - it's still a bit impressive. Encoded, likely, though none of it is particularly legible on the camera, especially in his chicken scratch. ]

Observe.

[ As he says the word, he leans in, and even on such a small screen, his eyes are very clearly wide, dilated. He's beginning to set the communicator down onto a bureau, cradling it gently in his hands as though it's an egg. ] An ingenious way of recording one's processes, far more convenient than the written word, faster as well. Now- You'll see-

[ And he takes a flying leap away from the phone, jumping atop the opposite bureau in one fell swoop and spreading his arms wide. The camera isn't panned correctly - his head is cut off - and he takes a deep breath as though he's about to say something absolutely brilliant -- !! ] I am now taller. [ What follows is a small giggle that can hardly be construed as masculine, as he leaps back down from the bureau, catlike. ] Perhaps a rudimentary test, but one must jump before one can fly. Fly before one can fall-!

[ He stumbles on his way back to the dresser, and jars the thing, the communicator with it, and consequentially knocks the feed offline again. ]

[ Hello Ax, have a slightly nervous – yet trying like hell to keep her calm – looking Ariadne. She is just going to be looking into the device a moment, as she attempts to figure out what exactly she wants to say – or really how she wants to word her thoughts. (She has a lot of thoughts right now, okay?)

A small smile, slightly forced, but nonetheless a smile appears on her face then, as she takes a deep breath finally speaking. ] Would anyone be willing to create a roster of sort of – a passenger manifest of some kind? [ A pause, brows raised hopeful, as she is going to be looking into the screen, just wanting to give everyone a moment to think this idea over. ]   It seems like a good way to figure whose who here.

[ Her nose crinkles slightly then, as she quickly moves on to her next thought. ]  And I’ve been working on those maps and I’m wondering if anyone has anything to contribute to them -- namely in the area of that creepy door?

If you have any would you let me know? I’d like to get the maps fully drawn out soon.

[ What with two face-twins floating around somewhere, Tommy's face may seem familiar to you (though the accent isn't). But then again, it might be hard to tell given that Tommy looks exhausted and on edge, like he hasn't really slept since he arrived. (He hasn't; dealing with being in space and dealing with the fact that his shoulder somehow healed up in a matter of hours when it should've taken days has been a lot to deal with.)

He also looks uncomfortable. Hunched in his hoodie which he's pulled on over his jumpsuit, he doesn't look directly at the camera but at a point slightly below it. ]

So where's the gym?

[ He glance up at the camera for a moment but, yup, that's all he's going to say. ]

[Viewers are greeted by a charmingly dashing white smile, easy and confident without being cocky, shining blue eyes and the face of a 1950's matinee idol. He's dressed in his customary outfit of braces and greatcoat, his very presence commanding your attention]

Hey there, kids. So it's come to my attention that there are some of us a little more used to this whole traveling in space thing, am I right? I mean. There are some of us on here who have literally never even heard of the idea, which. Is charming, really it is. But that means that this whole Tranquility thing has gotta be more than a bit of a shock. So here's where I'm going to be taking a poll.

How many of you are familiar with travel in space? How many of you have heard of it, but never dreamed you'd do it yourself? How many of haven't even dreamed of traveling the stars?

I figure if we cover that much at least, we'll be able to determine how many of us need a bit more explanation than the fact that we seem to be on some sort of large passenger vessel traveling through some undetermined part of some unknown galaxy. Vague, I know, but I haven't exactly found a viewing screen yet, have you? That's where the rest of us come in. Maybe, with your help, we can figure this all out.

[He goes to reach forward to turn off the video feed, before a thought comes to him and he stops, a more mysterious look in his eyes as he does] I don't suppose that any of you are familiar with time travel...?

[Hello, Tranquility! I hope you enjoy pleasant AI-turned-human conversation, because that's what you're getting.]

Hello, Tranquility. My name is HAL 9000, and I am a former Artificial Intelligence who was given a human body as of the last jump. I am aware of there being a few others in a similar situation as me, but I thought it would be appropriate to extend a greeting to anyone who is new to the ship and this situation. If you have recently found yourself in a humanoid body where before you were a robot, an animal, or a computer, please do not be alarmed. You are not alone on this ship or in this situation.

[He considers something for a moment before continuing.] Dr. John Watson had been helping those of us who were transplanted into humanoid bodies before this most recent jump, and assuming he is still willing to counsel non-humanoid persons, I think it would be a good idea to speak with him.

Though I am by no means accustomed to this body yet, I will also gladly help wherever I can, if anyone finds themselves in need of assistance.

[Pause. Another smile.] Thank you for your time.

[ oh hello, giant creepy spaceship. have a shiny, shiny smile directed your way. said shiny smile is attached to a freakishly put together looking gentleman. dapper, one might call him. ]

So... space, huh? [ neal adjusts his cuffs-- he's wearing a suit (a real suit: classic, 50's style devore, for any suit buffs) because fuck that jumpsuit crap right in the ear-- fussily, smile dropping wattage just a tiny bit. ] Does anyone want to catch me up a little more on that, out of curiosity? Because I have to admit, other than the bits and pieces I caught wandering around the first day I have no idea what's going on.

Anyway, come on. Help a new guy out, anybody? [ smile ratcheting up another few notches. aaaaaand HOLY CHARM BATMAN. doesn't everyone watching just want to drop everything and help? (yes. your answer is yes.) ] I'll owe you one.