Joan Watson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
her_waterloo) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2013-05-21 07:48 pm
her_waterloo) wrote in poly_chromatic2013-05-21 07:48 pm
Entry tags:
1 ♛ lost
[action]
[ The first thing Joan thinks, when she steps through the door and onto unexpected pavement, is that she's been drugged. She's been drugged or knocked unconscious, because that is the only way to explain the fact that she's now standing on the front steps of an apartment that she's never seen before, surrounded by the rush of City noise. A moment ago she was in the mansion that Moriarty had sent Sherlock, the mansion she'd followed him to. She was willing to go all the way to solving the puzzle with him.
But this, she doesn't know how to deal with. She looks around, eyes wide. This is no street she recognizes, and even the people walking by, ignoring her confusion, are a little stranger than usual. That person is painted green (she hopes it's paint?). That man is carrying a sword half as tall as he is, and no one seems to care. And there are no cars, which is unbelievable.
She turns back to the door and opens it onto a completely normal hallway. It could be the hallway of any apartment building in NYC. It's certainly not the room she had just emerged from.
So she shuts the door without going in, and carefully makes her way down the apartment steps. Moriarty might be playing with her, but she's not going to lay back and take it. She's going to figure out what's going on. ]
[voice]
[ The voice post comes about ten minutes after her entrance to the City. She reached into her pocket for her phone only moments after arriving, and was immediately frustrated by the inability to reach anyone from the outside world. Not Sherlock, not Bell, not Gregson, not even her mother.
When she saw the new little Network icon on her phone, she hesitated to click it, but finally gave in. And after a few minutes reading, she's formulated a plan for going forward. It's risky, but she's going to have to do what she can with what she has. She needs answers. ]
Hello, my name is Joan Watson, and I could use some help. I think someone sent me here under false pretenses. I don't know where this is... but it's definitely not New York City. I need to get back there as soon as possible. And I need to borrow a phone from someone, because mine isn't working right. Are there any police officers monitoring this frequency? I need to speak to someone right now, it's urgent.
[ The first thing Joan thinks, when she steps through the door and onto unexpected pavement, is that she's been drugged. She's been drugged or knocked unconscious, because that is the only way to explain the fact that she's now standing on the front steps of an apartment that she's never seen before, surrounded by the rush of City noise. A moment ago she was in the mansion that Moriarty had sent Sherlock, the mansion she'd followed him to. She was willing to go all the way to solving the puzzle with him.
But this, she doesn't know how to deal with. She looks around, eyes wide. This is no street she recognizes, and even the people walking by, ignoring her confusion, are a little stranger than usual. That person is painted green (she hopes it's paint?). That man is carrying a sword half as tall as he is, and no one seems to care. And there are no cars, which is unbelievable.
She turns back to the door and opens it onto a completely normal hallway. It could be the hallway of any apartment building in NYC. It's certainly not the room she had just emerged from.
So she shuts the door without going in, and carefully makes her way down the apartment steps. Moriarty might be playing with her, but she's not going to lay back and take it. She's going to figure out what's going on. ]
[voice]
[ The voice post comes about ten minutes after her entrance to the City. She reached into her pocket for her phone only moments after arriving, and was immediately frustrated by the inability to reach anyone from the outside world. Not Sherlock, not Bell, not Gregson, not even her mother.
When she saw the new little Network icon on her phone, she hesitated to click it, but finally gave in. And after a few minutes reading, she's formulated a plan for going forward. It's risky, but she's going to have to do what she can with what she has. She needs answers. ]
Hello, my name is Joan Watson, and I could use some help. I think someone sent me here under false pretenses. I don't know where this is... but it's definitely not New York City. I need to get back there as soon as possible. And I need to borrow a phone from someone, because mine isn't working right. Are there any police officers monitoring this frequency? I need to speak to someone right now, it's urgent.
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