Who: Sherlock and others
Status: Open
Where: Eltrut, Phantom Moon
What: Sherlock learns and deals with Mycroft going home
Warnings: Complicated brotherly feelings, crimes against violins

By the way, Sherlock (Eltrut - various)

[ The plan had been simple. When the anonymous post exposing the bodies in the Ethereal Emberbloom fields is published, Sherlock would be seen in public, around other Paladins, not using his shellphone. He knows a few Paladins who may not mind his presence for a while as long as he's quiet. But his first thought goes to Mycroft because maybe they could work together on something like actual brothers. Sherlock expects a lecture for endangering himself, but Mycroft would be interested in exposing the truth. He has to be. Sherlock sends a quick message asking to meet.

Message cannot be delivered.

Strange. Sherlock looks at his shellphone. There are no obvious signs of damage or wear. He shakes it. Nothing sounds loose. A second attempt to send the message also fails. Perhaps he could try the audio function...

The user you have tried to call cannot be reached.

Douglas then? He'll know what is going on with Mycroft. They have already exchanged messages before.

Message cannot be delivered.
The user you have tried to call cannot be reached.

Now, Sherlock is worried. Instead of avoiding use of his shellphone to give him deniability for any anonymous post, Sherlock instead uses his shellphone more than usual. Both of them being on a ship means that Sherlock cannot simply go over to them and visit them personally. This is all he has. Sherlock keeps trying every hour, moving around Eltrut in case that might make his messages connect better. Their boxing practice schedule hadn't changed. ]

Answer, damn you!

[ Message cannot be delivered.
The user you have tried to call cannot be reached.
Message cannot be delivered.
The user you have tried to call cannot be reached.
Message cannot be delivered.
The user you have tried to call cannot be reached. ]

I have had something (Phantom Moon)

[ Mycroft is gone. Douglas is gone too. Sherlock hadn't expected the invite from Captain Dongfang of the Phantom Moon to pick up Mycroft's things. (Of course Mycroft had planned for some outcome like this.) Now, Sherlock is here. He stands among many notebooks and other small pieces of the life Mycroft had built upon the ship, in this world. His expression is hardened. He observes the room as if it was a crime scene.

Sherlock won't stay long on the ship. He's already starting to feel the rock of the ship beneath his feet. ]

Quite after your own heart (Eltrut - near residential area)

[ They never had much chance to speak more of their parents. Sherlock didn't know how to approach the subject to learn how much was the same between them and how much differed. He blamed his Mycroft for that. The topic was not to be discussed. Now looking through Mycroft's notebooks, Sherlock sees an alarming pattern and wishes they had.

Mycroft, please tell him that his deductions are wrong. That he's making too much of something. Siger Holmes, Sherlock's father, died from a heart condition when he was six years of age. Even if Mycroft's father had yet to die, a magical remedy would do him no good as he is not here. These were taken before Sherlock arrived. Two possible subjects are left and easily narrowed further.

The same anger he has often felt towards his brother back home flares up in him: for his sake and for the Sherlock Holmes he's never met, three years his junior. Mycroft had been hiding--is hiding something from Sherlock. Both of them. He truly is Mycroft Holmes.

The Holmes Brothers have two conditions to watch from their parents: madness from their mother and heart problems from their father. Mycroft's heart is ill, and he's gone before anything can be done for it. Is his Mycroft's heart currently in danger too? His Mycroft hasn't even met his Cyrus Douglas yet. Sherlock knows so little about Douglas. There are so few clues he can use to find him back in his world--

Sherlock wishes his brain would shut off. He doesn't want to think about this anymore! There's nothing but possibilities and no answers he can get while he's here! Nothing at all he can do! He grabs his violin and starts dragging the bow over the strings. It's not music. It's not practice of scales or even notes. It's just noise. Angry, screeching, painful, noise to drown out everything else in his troubled mind.

His neighbors are quick to pound on his door, threatening all manner of things if he does not stop his violin wailing or remove himself from the premises while he does so. Sherlock favors the latter and storms out. Maybe he can wear himself out emotionally and then fall asleep for an hour or two.

That is how others will find Sherlock, far enough from where he lives but still close enough to civilization where he can disturb the peace and everyone's ears with his violin. Although, come a little later and the violent cacophony falls into a mournful tune full of hopeless longing. ]

A most singular problem (shellphone)

Type: Text
Sender ID: anonymous (Sherlock Holmes)
To: public
Subject: Dreamless sleep remedies
Warnings: references to Cthulhu things and drug use

[ It's late or early in the day. Sherlock doesn't know, doesn't care which. He lies in bed, the strange Moon Pal in his arms making him feel as if someone is doing the same to him. Bought on a whim, he finds it strangely comfortable. He's so tired. Tired physically, tired of always ending up alone, tired that he remains, despite, and to spite. Against his normal judgment, he types. ]

I am plagued with horrific dreams of eldritch terrors sleeping under the waters, an endless Abyss, impossible landscapes, and other gruesome details I hesitate to write here. These dreams have robbed me of sleep for months, dulls my greatest asset. I have reached, no, surpassed my limit.

There must be remedies which do not require me to be regularly drugged into a stupor and held captive until the effects wear, only to fall victim to them again the next night. Or is that my unfortunate future?

Wildcard

[ Want to do something else? Write a prompt or drop me a line at Sherry's journal, aviekokyre, or on Discord @ aviekokyre and we can plot something out. ]