rakuen | And no one in her right mind

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Day, Santana Lopez
Format: Log
This log is: Closed.
Location: White Dorm (1-B) on a Thursday
Summary: Sherlock hasn't been teaching classes. Or wearing a uniform. I'm sure this will go over well.
Warnings: Uh. Sherlock and Day... and Santana...

Sherlock lay sprawled on his bed, eyes closed and body quite still--but his mind was active, and ever so. Though he lay there in the illusion of sleep, internally he was anything but, moving rapidly through the map he had built of the island, all the miniscule pieces, so obvious to the opened eye--the 'important details.'

The dormitory was empty save for him; the rest of the inhabitants were off in classes, teaching or studying--Sherlock had been given a teaching assignment, but had immediately ignored it. He had absolutely no interest in that sort of thing--and after apparently abducting him, sight unseen, for their little battle royale... he honestly felt no compunction to be anything resembling cooperative.

Not that he really would have anyway: Sherlock's interests lay in one place and one place only, and as far as he was aware, there had been no murders.

Boredom was literally a breath away--the newness of the place had worn off already, the excitement, marginal though it was, of being a harpoon (abstractly, but he didn't expect he could be one in a literal sense to begin with, that would have been absurd) had been worn out; now he had his details, and he immersed himself in them, felt them and sensed them as only he could, with his whole interior--as anyone could, if they just observed things, noticed them, if they just cleared their minds of the useless trifles and trivia they clogged themselves with daily and made room for things that mattered.

But they didn't. They couldn't.

It was something Sherlock would never understand.

But then again, there was no need to.

That was why he was superior.

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Santana was lucky: he was in fact 'decent.' He was actually fully clothed, lying on top of the bedsheets with his shoes on, quite comfortable.

Sherlock didn't respond immediately. A second passed, then two--finally, after the third or fourth second he opened his pale eyes, which fixed on her for a moment before he finally spoke.

"Oh, it's you."

He made no move to actually get up, however, and certainly didn't look even remotely concerned--or even especially interested.

Internally, his mind was running ahead--Day wanted to see him now? Interesting... he couldn't fathom what that was about. He figured he'd stay in bed a bit longer, see what he could get this child to reveal before he bothered to get up and grab his coat over it.

Edited 2012-03-15 00:29 (UTC)

Day was waiting in her office. So far apart from the attack last week, that had come from a Fortitude student there hadn't actually been much trouble.

Until now. Not teaching wasn't the worst thing to have to deal with, but it did have to be dealt with, they had to know that the rules were there to be followed. She waited for Santana to bring Sherlock.

Santana gets annoyed really quickly, she goes over to the bed and attempts to push him out of it, after that she stands back and crosses her arms.

"Get your ass out of bed and come with me!" she yells at him, "I'm not going to to spend all day getting you to Day."

Sherlock jerked up and away from the prefect, pushing her out of his way forcibly as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed to sit with his feet on the floor. He eyed her coldly, face twisting in something approximating disgust or disapproval as he dusted off his shirt, movements brusque and peremptory.

"...rude." He stood up sharply and took hold of his coat, which hung on the post of his bed. Snatching it from the knob, he threw it over his shoulders, shrugging into it with enough irritation to suggest she had, in fact, crossed one of Sherlock's many, many invisible lines.

"I'll see what Day has to say on my own." He paused and turned to glance at her, his expression still hard. Then he strode towards the door, adjusting his cuffs on his way out.

She walks out after him, "Well tough shit, I have to deal with you too. And what the hell is wrong with you, you flipped out when I touched you. I wasn't going to do anything. You're just weird, aren't you?"

How long did it take to collect one student? Day hoped he wasn't causing Santana problems, not that there was much Santana couldn't deal with. She went back to writing the report she was writing and sighed. No one had told her being headmistress involved so much paper work.

"Of course you weren't going to do anything," Sherlock replied acidly; he wasn't waiting for her--in fact, it distinctly appeared that he was trying to leave her behind. "If I'd thought you were going to do something, I would have defended myself instead of just getting up. Fortunately for you, I found no reason to do so."

Sherlock had already familiarised himself with the layout of the island; finding his way to the door of Day's office was not exactly a challenge.

He knocked, twice; then, without waiting for a response, took the doorknob and let himself in. He walked right up to her desk, stopping about a yard away. "I would strongly advise against trying to poison me," he declared, facing her calmly, as though he feared nothing of her--or just didn't care.

Day span round in her chair and grinned at him, "If I'd wanted to poison you it would be done by now." She wasn't stupid. As it was she hadn't poisoned him, mainly because he would just come back and be even more irritable that he already was.

Not that it was an impossibility, if he continued being an annoyance. "Sherlock Holmes." She said as if there were any doubt in who he was and why he was here. "I presume you cannot read." She took a bite of the cake she was eating and smiled.

And no one in her right mind

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IDK I'm so tired from Momocon.

have fun?

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