rakuen | Courtyard

In the event that anyone decided to go for a little stroll in the courtyard, they may or may not stumble upon someone sitting on one of the benches, staring at the plants laid out before him with an intense look of concentration on his face. It's not the usual kind of face one would use while regarding flowers, after all. Most people would be like, oh, how pretty they are. Hikaru Sulu, on the other hand, is staring at them like they just ate his sandwich.

And he worked damn hard on that sandwich.

The thing is, Hikaru doesn't actually recall what any of the names of the flowers laid out in front of him are. Things like roses, daisies and daffodils escape him, as do more of the intense ones, like caladiums and heliotropes and manchineels. Well, actually, all of them escape him. Every last one. And while this wouldn't bother most guys, it's kind of hard to be a part-time botanist when you don't even remember what a damn tulip is. It's proving to be far more frustrating than it has any right to be.

(Also, he's still not entirely sure what the year is. But that's okay, he's more concerned about the flowers at the moment because they still pose the promise of some small amount of sanity.)

(Not to mention he may or may not have had some issues with his shoes this morning but he's pretty sure he's got them on right.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's going around," he says dryly. "You arrived late. Has anyone explained matters?"

"I'm aware, yeah," Hikaru mutters. "I guess it'd make sense but I'm still a bit hopeful."

"I've identified five of my own missing pieces so far and determined conclusively that learning the information again does not help. As an incentive to participate in the game, they are compelling, I must say."

Sherlock gets a few bewildered blinks for that one before Hikaru grins a little. He reminds Hikaru of someone. "So we can learn it as many times as we want and nothing'll change. Clever."

"Very. I lost a short story and spent several hours in the library reading it, to no avail."

A little curious pause and yup. Hikaru already can't remember the name of the flower. Well, that sucks. "Typical."

"So it would appear."

Another lengthy pause, and then he holds out a hand. "Hikaru Sulu. You are?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he answers with a flicker of a smile and a firm handshake. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Sulu."

"Likewise." An eyebrow tilt. "Holmes, huh?" He may be from the future--which you don't know, naturally--but he would still know that name anywhere.

Serene with a hint of mischief: "Yes."

"Something's telling me you've been through this conversation before." Smirk.

"Many, many times. I invite you to draw your own conclusions about how I came by the name."

"I'm sure it's an interesting story, whatever it may be." He shrugs a little. "Though Doyle wasn't quite as popular where I'm from as he is here."

"No? I wasn't aware he was terribly popular in this place. Certainly I am the only one who seems to consult his books in the library."

"Not terribly popular, no, but where I come from it's..." Chuckle. "Mostly about the now and the soon, not so much the then. I've always taken a liking to older things."

Dryly: "As have I."

"More fun." Shrug. Doyle's pretty much ancient in his time, after all.

"And what year is it? Where you come from?"

Hikaru glances sideways at him, but just smirks. "San Francisco," he says, in his most obvious, wiseass voice.

"I had noticed. That is not a year."

"You asked me where I come from." Hikaru shrugs. "How'd you notice anyway?"

"I was not certain," he admits, "but I had tentatively traced your accent to that region. Accounting for the time difference, which was a significant factor. At least two hundred years, I would say. Which puts you somewhere in the twenty-third century."

"...and that doesn't concern you or anything."

"Why should it?"

(no subject)

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