We the Lost - Mailbox

[howdull]

SHERLOCK HOLMES.
1201 SUGAR PLUM GROVE.

Comments

[divinefluff]

[A day after their meeting, Zephyr sends Sherlock a letter.]

Dear Sherlock,

I checked with my dad and he said trying to teach you our language would make your brain melt. He's kind of dramatic sometimes, though, so I asked mom, too. She said it would make your brain melt and probably the rest of your body.

I don't want that to happen. I'm sorry, I'm not going to be able to teach it to you. I got yelled at for showing you that note. Even though Uncle Deei did it, too.

Love,
Zephyr

[howdull]

[That's not a letter that he wants to receive, but at least the little whatever-they-are did write to let him know.]

Dear Zephyr,

Thank you for informing me of this development, I shall endeavour to find a way around these obstacles and expect to be able to begin lessons shortly.

Yours,
Sherlock.

P.S. Don't sign your letters to veritable strangers with 'love'.

[ooc: Sorry for the wait, I've been on holiday without internet for a few days.]

May 7

[fucking_ebay]

You stupid fuck.

[Peter doesn't sign the letter, but Sherlock being Sherlock it probably won't be that hard to figure out.]

May 8th

[howdull]

Hardly an original sentiment currently.
SH.

June 3rd

[ceasetoexist]

[He knows Sherlock won't be home for a few days. It doesn't matter to him. This is starting to get insane, and while he is trying to keep a modicum of control about this, it's slipping. He doesn't know who Justin is. An asshole, apparently. But he does know who Sherlock is, from the reveal in May and the brief talks on the board, so that's who he'll go to.

He'll be jamming the letter into the mailbox personally, instead of waiting for the sloth to do it.]

Let's cut a deal.

I don't know what you want, exactly. Information? What makes the people here work? If you want information on places like this and how they work, I'll provide it. I've been to three previously and, while not entirely like this one since this one is, for the most part, benevolent. You want someone to grill on the behavior they develop because of these places or how they work, feel free to go wild on me.

Answer when you're back alive. My offer isn't going to last forever.

June 6th

[howdull]

[It takes Sherlock a few minutes to place the handwriting and remember who this is, the newcomer he'd argued with on the bulletin board, and to consider how he wants to reply.]

Are you willing to donate specimens of bodily fluid and tissue?

June 29th

[poisoninmypocket]

[Monty has been trying to decide how he'd like to toy with Sherlock since learning that he was a detective. He has an idea now, though. Fortuna had told him it was ridiculous and liable to get them in trouble, but it is a matter he's wondered after for some time.]

Dear Mr. Holmes,

It has been brought to my attention that you are, in fact, some manner of detective. I have a matter that has vexed me for years now, a case unsolved. I do not know if it is something you might be able to piece together given the lack of physical evidence and the effect such time might have on my precise recollection of events, but I know not where else to turn.

It pertains to murder. Specifically, the murder of my cousin, the Eighth Earl of Highhurst, Lord Adelbert D'Ysquith. He perished at a dinner party only a few months before my reality crumbled and I found myself in Between. Naturally, as the next in line for succession, I was identified as the primary suspect. While I cannot deny a logical motive for such events, it was not I who killed the Earl. I can detail for you the persons present at the dinner party and what evidence was given at trial, if you decide this is worth your time.

I can also offer any demonstration of my belief abilities for your personal experiments as payment for the exercise, whether or not you can reach a satisfactory conclusion.

Yours,
Lord Highhurst

June 30th

[howdull]

[This is an interesting letter to receive and no mistake. There's something that niggles at the back of his mind concerning Monty, but he doesn't know what it is yet, and this is one more puzzle piece to add to his collection.

And how can he possibly turn down a murder mystery dropped in his lap this way?]

Lord Highhurst,

I will take your case. Call at the house whenever convenient to discuss further.

Sherlock Holmes.

[penniesdownawishingwell]

[Two sheets of paper have been anonymously deposited into Sherlock's mailbox. The writing is blocky and unfamiliar, as if someone were making an effort to conceal their handwriting. There is no other explanation or letter with them; they are not even properly addressed in any way.]

[howdull]

[Much obliged, Miwa.

He doesn't send a return letter, just takes the two sheets inside and begins to study them. He might seek her out at a later time with further questions.]

August 16

[voiceinthephone]

Dear Mr. Holmes,

There's a matter I wish to have settled, something that has been bothering me since May. I think it might be up your alley.

During your original murder mystery, I was accused of being complicit or having been directly involved in your "death" solely because of my species. I never got to talk to them and explain my innocence or rest their worries that I'm not dangerous in any way. I was hoping you could help me with this.

- PG


[Attached is a bag of mixed sweets as payment or gift.]

August 20th

[howdull]

[It takes a little while for a return letter to make its way to Phil, mostly because Sherlock has been preoccupied with yeti research and is therefore not at all interested in anything else coming his way.

Eventually he does get round to reading the letter, sending a rather brief note in response.]

What exactly do you want my help with? I'm not a negotiator.
--SH.

[xanthous]

[Congratulations, Sherlock. Xanthous has even put in the effort to format this thing properly! Attached at the bottom of the report is a note, written in Xanthous' standard form of writing.]

From the Wriggler Trials to Conscription, how pick by survival leads to a weaker fleet.

The Wriggler Trials and Conscription are considered the two most important milestones in a young trolls life, and easily shape a troll’s future. However, despite the weight placed on them, they’re an extremely inaccurate gauge of a troll’s ability or worthiness.

For many, the Wriggler Trials are naught but a faint memory. Few spoken with over the sweeps seem to remember much of what they themselves went through, but they can fondly recall the way other poor grubs or wrigglers were torn apart either by the flora and fauna of the brooding caverns, or due to failing to grasp a particularly difficult puzzle.

“This rust I knew got ripped apart by some rabid purrbeasts,” says a highblood who wishes to remain anonymous. “They got sicced on him because he put a round peg in an octagonal hole even though it still fit. Just didn’t fit right.”

A scene that gets repeated time and time again with every new group of hatchlings - but does the fact that rustblood failed the trial mean they would have performed poorly in the fleet?

Yet, most trolls who would add to both of those do not make it on board even the emptiest of vessels. A large number of wrigglers fail the Trials and are culled before they can even be chosen by a lusus. Nonviable grubs are culled before the trials and still serve a use to the empire, but ater pupation, when the trials take place, this use is made null. This loss of value also applies to those who successfully complete these trials but still get turned over to the culling drones later in wrigglerhood. This means, to survive must take incredible force of will, wit, and strength.

If capable of surviving the trials, and later, the harsh Alternian landscape, a wriggler should have, in theory, proven themselves worthy of making the fleet. However, the superficial judgements of the drones do not take that much into consideration, and that means the fleet loses itself mass numbers of possible soldiers each conscription season. Many of these soldiers may have otherwise been of high value.

“I wouldn’t have made it through conscription,” says a midblood when asked about their feelings towards it. “They would have turned me away with one look.”

Not an unusual scenario, especially for those at the middle or lower ends of the spectrum. They are judged more harshly and more quickly, with less leeway given towards their flaws. Now, this midblood troll is exceptionally intelligent, driven, and more than capable. However, because of their history, they are not eligible for a place in that fleet.

Because the judgements of a drone, they would be culled. The fleet would lose someone who would be a very, very powerful legislacerator, threshecutioner, or subjugglator because of an incident that made the troll seem unworthy of a space on the fleet.

Are any of these scenarios okay? Can a troll provide nothing at all for the empire if marked with injury, minor fault, or a tendency to work to work unconventionally?

The answer is no.

The judgments of automated processes are incapable of grasping a troll’s true potential or ability. A drone cannot look past something like a scar or deficiency to see what the troll is capable that makes those flaws entirely inconsequential. A better way to oversee the Trials or Conscription would be with actual trolls, capable of judging ability and potential as the whole, nuanced product it is instead of ticking off “yes” or “no” like drones do. The more complex judgement will make the fleet more powerful, and will have the added benefit of placing trolls into positions better suited to their abilities.



II triied to keep wiith your theme of adole2cent iinfluence2.
You're welcome.

[howdull]

[He reads through it several times, pleased that an actual effort has been made. It sheds some light on the culture as a whole, but not enough. Which is why a response comes that evening.]

Some additional requests to make the paper useful for non-trolls to learn from:
- An explanation of 'mid-blood', 'high-blood'
- An explanation of what the Fleet is

Otherwise, a sound effort. Thank you.

[aigue]

[A couple of days after the wild boar population has suddenly boomed Sherlock will, one early morning, find an extremely dead one on his and John's front step.

Nothing else. Just a dead boar. Someone with a good eye will be able to notice bite marks at the board's throat, and someone who is really clever will be able to note said bite marks match that of a fox's dentition.

You're welcome!]

[howdull]

[It really doesn't take long for him to deduce who has left the corpse on their doorstep, not with the distinctive pattern of bite marks and that a fox has behaviour that includes the giving of dead animals to their young or even sometimes a weaker mate.

He's neither of these, but he can see that the gesture has been adapted for friendship. Of course, it might be a present of interest for John, hard to tell without a note. So he'll post a letter to her that afternoon.]

You neglected to address your gift, making the recipient unclear.

SH.

October 1

[telecosmetic]

[Eliza drops off the DVD in Sherlock's mailbox personally, not wanting to get the Mailsloth involved. The cover shows several magical girls in various types of outfits posing happily with a small blob creature alongside them, with a title saying "Magical Girl Raising Project." A subtitle mentions that this is the final season of the show.

The DVD contains the full details of what happened during Eliza's time in Town A, although events happening in deadland, the traitor's room, and Zange's room are not shown. The appearances and names of all the people involved have been changed from their originals as well, but due to that being the only change he should probably be able to deduce who Eliza is among the characters at the very least. There's a sticky note on the DVD.]

Here's some mysteries for you to solve. I bet you can figure out the culprits faster than the people on the show. [She hopes it'll be enough to keep him entertained for a bit, at least.]

[(OOC: Also assume for the first case that Beyond Birthday's fake name still has "BB" as initials and that Edna's fake name still has a "d" in it.)]

October 3rd

[howdull]

[Sherlock glances at the DVDs with mild disinterest, though the note stops him from throwing them away immediately. He does put the disc into his player, but after noting the run time, he pens a letter in return rather than watch the whole thing.]

When enlisting the services of a consulting detective, you should come and speak to me personally. Details of the crimes will be needed, and at least a list of scenes relevant to watch. Bored, I might be, but I'm not bored enough to sit through that much rubbish.

SH.

Early Morning - 2nd November

[marywatson]

[Wherever Sherlock ends up, he finds this letter which is wrapped around another page of paper that is folded and sealed separately. Clearly it is not to be opened until the letter is read.]

My Dear Sherlock,

It took me a couple of days to figure out just want I needed to say to you. I can't promise this will make any more sense to you, because I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself. But I have to try.

I realise that it is difficult for you to accept why I reacted the way I did when we first encountered each other. Rather than trying to explain in person, which I think would make both of us uncomfortable for different reasons, I wanted to write some of it out for you. My only request is that you not share this with John. Not yet. Please let our relationship develop naturally. I promise he will learn these things as well. I just don't want him to see me as some wounded animal that needs protection. If a relationship between John and I is even possible at this point, I want him to love me for me, not merely pity me.

You are a different matter. You know me, you are probably from my future, given your reaction to me. So, I can share these things with you. I'm not asking you to fix anything. I simply want you to understand. To that end, in simplest terms, when I ran, I wasn't running from you. I was running from myself. Because no matter how much a part of me is terrified that you and John are here, the part of me that love you both and see you as my only true family is happier than I dare to let myself feel. It scares me that I might never have you again. It scares me that I might lose you. And it scares me that I might be able to have you both back. Hopefully this will help you to understand.

If you feel you can respect my wish to not share this with John, please open the next page. If, however you cannot, I ask that you stop reading now. Perhaps one day, I'll be courageous enough to tell you these things in person...

Please know I still care for you deeply and if I can possibly fix the damage that I did when we first met here, I want to try.

Always,

Mary


[This is the sealed page.]
I've called The Box worse than hell. It was a fate worse than death. And we could die there - we just nearly always came back. In theory, I thought you would have liked The Box. It was an experiment in human nature. Or rather the destruction of human nature. The more we suffered, the more information the Technicians (that's what we called them) gained. They seemed to take great pleasure in making us suffer as much as possible. But the more we suffered, the more we turned on each other. We were worse than the lowest of animals. Me with my assassin training and background, well I'm sure you can imagine how I turned out.

At one point, there were clones of some of us all over the place. Clones. They seemed to be of people who had died there. I died there, Sherlock. It's possible I'm not Mary Watson any more. That I am a clone as well. You and John, you deserve better than a clone version of Mary Watson. You deserve the real her and I just don't know if I am - or if I can be her. And that is the hardest part for me. I'm caught between wanting all of that - all of you - back in my life and not wanting to make you bear witness to all I have gone through. Or worse, be disappointed if we discover I'm not the 'real' Mary.

At another point in time, we were branded. That brand did not follow me here to the Meadous. But, the brand was on my trigger finger and read "MRS. PSYCHOPATH". It couldn't be more right. All the horrible things that John thought me capable of after I shot you... I became that in The Box. I tried to fight it. I worked in one of the health clinics. I thought if I helped enough people it would keep me right. But it wasn't enough.

Seeing John had been hard enough, because in spite of everything that happened in The Box, I realised I still love him. Love him more than I ever thought I was capable of loving another person. And then I saw you. And I remembered our last interaction in The Box. I was afraid of you because of what I had become in The Box. I was afraid that if you saw that, then you would hate me and make John hate me too. I realised I can't go through living in that kind of hate again.

I lost more in The Box than I can ever express on paper. Maybe one day, I will share some of the details with you. But I learned something too. Something important.

John keeps me right. You keep me right.

I'm terrified of you because if you are here and not in my life, I might once again turn into "Mrs. Psychopath".

November 5th

[howdull]

[It takes him a long time to retrieve the letter, and then even longer to consider what to write in response. Her explanation is, in part, a disappointment. She makes no mention that he has done anything violent to her in another place, which makes her reaction to him seem excessive even with the emotional turmoil that has taken place. Or perhaps that is a selfish thought.

He could tell her that she is what she makes of herself, and that she has always had the strength to keep herself on track even alone. He could reassure her that she will always have him to turn to, or comfort her with the hope that John is willing to get to know her even if love is not on the table at the moment. But he can do none of these things, a letter seems like a poor medium for all of it.

The response that comes is brief.]

Mary,

I have read both of your letters and shall keep the details of the second one to myself. Should you wish to speak with me, I am always available for you. Should you not, I will remain keeping my distances.

Sherlock.

November 8th - Evening

[jumpthegun]

[John's been fighting with his new feline instincts all day. Given that Sherlock's been avoiding him after their tiff about Mary, it's been relatively easy to avoid him, in turn. Except that seems intolerable now. He wants to be around his friend. He wants pets some level of acknowledgment that they exist in the same space outside of a Bonfire Night celebration where Sherlock stole his bloody clothes for the Guy.

So, after some lonely dinner, John takes a plate with baked fish and mashed potatoes and heads down to the basement lab. He stands at the door and just watches Sherlock for a long moment. John's put his tail down one leg of his jeans and put on a hat and sunglasses to hide his other cat-like features. Phil has assured him they'll go away, but that doesn't mean John's terribly comfortable with them being out in the open now.

After just staring, he approaches Sherlock and sets the food down next to him. If that garners no response, John will just give into his new instincts and put his hands down in the middle of whatever Sherlock is working on and stare at him some more from behind his sunglasses. He's silent throughout.]

[howdull]

[Berit is the first to notice John.

She can smell the cat coming off him, and that translates through to Sherlock. Cat smell, sunglasses and hat inside, one leg of his jeans looking slightly fatter than the other... he must have eaten one of Phil's cupcakes in a similar manner to Mycroft and his fox features.

Amusing, but he's still sulking when it comes to John and so he ignores the other man completely until hands suddenly appear right in the middle of the dusty compounds that he's working with.]

That was foolish, those compounds are potentially explosive if mixed in the wrong way.

November 27, Action

[holmesice]

[Mycroft arrives with a little red box, tied with a white bow and a cut-out shaped like a dog, making sure that no one was around. He’s ever so pleased with himself, as he whispers to his accomplice.]

It looks like the coast is clear.

[aigue]

[Renart is in full blown hunter mode, her ears twitching and swiveling to catch even the tiniest noise in their vicinity. She's staring at the windows too, to pick up on any movement in them.]

Right. I'll let you know if anyone is about to come by.

[xanthous]

[On the day John receives his bundle from Xanthous, Sherlock does as well. Unfortunately there's no Union Jack scarf for the younger Holmes, but he does get a pair of mittens and scarf in a simple dark blue, and...A pair of vibrant fuchsia socks.

If Sherlock gets curious about the knit goods, he'll find the yarn was spun from goat's wool and dyed with pigments found naturally in the Meadous, with the exception of the scarves. Any tests Sherlock runs will return inconclusive, the pigment being clearly alien in nature and not reacting the way any Earth plant or mineral would. There's also an odd change in quality in the good the two receive - John's Union Jack scarf has the inevitable irregularities that come with making something by hand, a trait shared by Sherlock's mittens, but both the socks and Sherlock's scarf have no flaws, as if made by a machine.]

You better appreciiate thii2.

-Xanthou2

[howdull]

[Oh, interesting!

Sadly for Xanthous' kind gift of an extremely well made scarf, it gets pulled to bits in order to better examine the pigment that it's dyed with. He can't recognise it no matter what tests he runs, which just makes him more keen to keep going.

He doesn't normally remember to thank people for presents, but this is a better present than most - a mystery - and so Xanthous will get a note in return.]

Thank you.

I will keep you updated on my progress and inform you when the results have been verified.

-SH

[telecosmetic]

[Sherlock gets a drawing in his mailbox on the night of Christmas Eve, although unlike the other drawings, it doesn't seem to involve him much. It's instead a drawing of Berit perched on his shoulder, with some of the back of his head in the drawing as well. But Berit is the obvious focus. Eliza has signed it and added a "Merry Christmas!"

Morning of December 25th

[aigue]

[There will be two wrapped gifts on John and Sherlock's doorstep on Christmas morning. Both are labelled with their names, along with Joyeux Noël and Renart's signature. However, Sherlock's is also labelled with a big, underlined SHARP, OPEN WITH CARE.

Because she is awesome and gave him a knightly sword. Since he mentioned knowing how to fence she opted for that instead of a foil, épée, or sabre, in order to give him a challenge and to make it easier for him and Monty to practice together again sometime.]

[howdull]

[That is excellent, because the Meadous needs Sherlock Holmes with a sword.

He spends much of the morning examining it, and then sends her a quick note.]

Thank you for the sword.
SH.

P.S. I don't have a present for you.

December 25th

[poisoninmypocket]

[There is a package left for Sherlock on his doorstep with a simple label.]

Mr. Holmes,

Keep sharp.

Montague

[Inside is a paperback book that, when opened, proclaims to be 'The Mystery Game.' Sherlock will find that each time he opens the book it details a mysterious murder from the 1800s. There is a section for him to write in questions and the book will 'reply' on the next page with the available evidence, whether it's photos or 'testimony' from witnesses. They range in difficulty, but none drop below what Sherlock would count as a 'six.']

[howdull]

[This is an excellent gift.

He flicks through it three times before he realises that it details a different mystery each time, and it takes him another hour or so before he discovers how to write to the book and receive a reply. An excellent gift indeed, but why? Not to secure his silence, that's obviously no longer an issue with how long he's kept his peace.

What reason would Monty have of wanting to either impress him or please him? Not so easy to answer. Puzzling over that is why he doesn't actually reply, as rude as that is, not even to say a brief thank you.]

Afternoon of Jan 6

[marywatson]

[Tied to Sherlock's Mailbox will be a single skull-shaped balloon. There's no tag, no well-wishes for a 'Happy Birthday'. Just that simple gesture.]

[howdull]

[Alas for that kind gesture and the fitting balloon shape, it will meet the fate of all the others and end up popped in a fit of petulant childish rage.

But the thought was nice.]

May 25th

[voiceinthephone]

Mr. Holmes,

Enclosed with this letter is a happiness spellcake. I want to test out a theory I’ve had for a while about my magic and since you’re a clean slate for emotions, I thought you to be the perfect subject. I want to see if my magic can generate emotions where there aren’t any or if it enhances what already exists.

Also you’re probably bored and starving, so please eat something.

- PG

[There’s a simple vanilla cupcake with earl grey icing on top. No decorations, no frills, other than the slight glimmer of magic.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock reads the letter, and promptly throws both it and the cake into the rubbish bin outside.

He removed his emotions on purpose, he has no interest in any experiment to regain them. He has no interest in anything, really.]

[aigue]

[Merry Christmas, Sherlock! On the 25th a package will be left on his doorstep containing a small leather notebook with strap for a pen. The tag attached has a very foxy paw print, three guesses as to who it is from.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock leafs through the notebook to make sure nothing is actually inside, before he meanders over to Renart's house and knocks sharply.]

[fuckingwolverine]

[This afternoon, Sherlock has a visitor - or more accurately, his graveyard has a visitor. Lilly has never seen one of these in her life, and has no idea what it is, but after a quick investigation that mostly involves running her fingers over the engravings on the stone, she determines that it's just a regular patch of weirdly-shaped rocks. She can be found sitting perched on top of gravestones, digging in any freshly disturbed dirt, and occasionally picking up bugs to snack on. Worms are delicious, don't hate.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock hasn't quite hit full meltdown yet, he's still in the pre-stages of grumpy sulking that come before a tantrum properly hits. This stage involves a lot of staying in his pyjamas and grumping about the house like an oversized toddler.

He only comes outside because he spots a small child on top of one of his tombstones, which is unacceptable.]

If you're not looking for a decomposed body, I suggest you cease digging there.

Private Text [Forward-dated to mid-April]

[marywatson]

[Because let's face it, now that they have these devices, Mary would certainly be able to circumvent any restrictions.]

I have an experiment proposal for you, of an extremely personal and delicate nature. Interested?

[howdull]

Probably.

[Almost certainly, but one can't look too eager.]

I'm in the lab, bring tea.