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 As Above, So Below, Tag: Sherlock
Jamie Moriarty
 Posted: Mar 13 2017, 09:27 AM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Jessica is online


35 years old / 40 posts




I have reserves of creativity
I have not even begun to tap
The air had gone stale half an hour ago.

The dull whine of the machinery was not in any way obscured by the tasteful camouflage of the upholstery - as surprisingly comfortable as it was, cushioning the curve of her spine. To her immediate right was the dim lights of the cabin; to her left was a thick window, full of stark sunlight and a floor of clouds stretching out in all directions. Jamie had put the visor down across the glass, giving her the shallow respite of shadow to see by. The hum of aeroplane engines rumbled on each and every side of her, hemming her into an enclosure of sound.

It wasn’t the only enclosure she found herself in. The piercing light might not be shining her eyes anymore, but they were still glittering on her…bracelets. Barely a twitch and Jamie couild hear the clinking of them, the tiny metallic chime as the chain between them jangled in her lap. And very restrictive ones they were too, the cuffs closely circling her wrists and the delicate web of veins that lay beneath even more so than before. A smile curled on her lip. Someone’s been paying attention.

Then again, he always was.

She leant back in her chair, her blonde hair pooling over the antimacassar. It wasn’t embroidered with any airline sigil nor the one they were meant to be flying with. Everything about the cabin was blank - there was barely a logo in sight. Jamie doubted the other members of the city in the sky were even aware of their presence. They were beyond anonymous, guided by a pilot who had been security checked eight times and drug tested the other two; they would soar the skies namelessly, would land namelessly and would take off namelessly, bound for England; soon enough she’d be writing to Sherlock with an international post stamp.

At least she was leaving this insipid country behind. The vulgarities of America were too loud, too bold, for her select tastes. The very soil screamed in the heat of the day. So did its people under her lieutenants, of course. The web had worked here just as it had in the UK and she had even let some of her adjutants make the journey across the Atlantic too, Gaskar being one of them. But that had been a…miscalculation. He always was ambitious. And they would continue to be, for as long as she was behind bars. Every day that went by her empire was slipping from her fingers, and Kayden had almost been a casualty of that. It couldn’t go on. But she would be a free woman soon enough, and then - then - the madness would stop.

Or so she told herself.

America may not have been to her tastes, but it had suited Sherlock. Moriarty let her gaze slide from the window to the man across the aisle. He was looking better every day, the substances loosening their grip on him every hour he refused to succumb. But it wasn’t just the drugs. It was the mascot, who wasn’t a mascot at all. Joan. Pity she would have to study her from afar now. A most interesting curiosity, of mental architecture even she failed to anticipate….her eyes closed, the thrum of engines lulling her to sleep.

Jamie heard the creak first, a deep groan of alloys and metals and structural supports. She burst awake. The entire cylinder of the plane was twisting and turning in the air and suddenly all the lights went out, plunging the cabin into darkness. The pilot was shouting and she was shouting too, shouting for Sherlock as the cargo in the hold tumbled and slowly, millimetre by millimetre, the nose of the plane began to tip downwards…

She was awake again, only engulfed in a haze of pain. The crackle of open flames, the death rattle of metal as it keeled over in the dirt, the distant sound of birdsong - it was all through the dull ache of pain. Jamie winced, squinting through half closed eyes at trees overhead. She went to move but cried out suddenly, gasping - only that made the pain even worse, her chest feeling almost aflame with pain. She squeezed her eyes shut again but her hand reached out, groping blindly. ”Sher - “ God, that hurt. She mustered up the courage and tried again. ”Sherlock?”
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Sherlock Holmes
 Posted: Mar 19 2017, 12:26 PM
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Elementary

Tomorrowland

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39 years old / 31 posts




So far since his spiral into addiction and subsequent recovery, Sherlock had been back to England precisely once, in the company of Joan in order to help out his former colleague Lestrade. Of course back then his mixed feelings on going back to England were quite different, since he no longer felt responsible or mourned the death of one Irene Adler, who had never actually even existed to begin with, being it was the woman now sitting across from him on the plane, Jamie Moriarty.

This time his trip back to his homeland felt more of business, in fact he wouldn't have gone at all if it hadn't been for the fact that he absolutely still did not believe for one second that Moriarty did not have plans to escape custody. He believed this so fully that they had even set up plans for a number of decoy plans on how Jamie would be transferred. Sherlock would have preferred if everything could have simply been handled in America, but Britain was insistent that they question her on their soil, for some of the crimes they believed she was involved in, or at the very least could shed some light on who had been the culprits.

He trusted her about as far as he could physically pick up the small private jet they were in and throw it, even now while she was in restraints, though since they were thousands of feet up in the air, he very much doubted she would do anything that could bring harm to herself as well. Sometimes the fact that, somewhere, deep down, he knew he still held some sort of feelings for this criminal, bothered him immensely, something he did his best to hide, not that it had stopped him from carrying on correspondence with her ever since her arrest.

As he sat there, ticking off lists in his mind, going over the various routes, imagining every way possible that things could go wrong and how he could be ten steps ahead of anyone, including Jamie, the dull drone of the engines had him in a bit of a trance. He was aware and observant as always, but in a slightly meditative state. That was until he felt the plane lurch a bit, he could hear the wind pick up outside, he even could have sworn that he glanced some odd purple smoke just outside the plane's window.

Something was wrong, but before Sherlock could call out or even utter a single word, the plane felt like it was suddenly being tossed about in a blender. The world seemed to both speed up and stand still at the exact same time. Despite the chaos around them, Sherlock had time to notice one thing, that even for a plane crashing this felt odd, like something wasn't quite normal, as far as plane crashes could be normal. Ripping and tearing of metal, screams of pilot that ended abruptly, thuds and scrapes, wind and chaos reigned around him.

Then there was blackness

Sherlock felt the pain first, a sharp stabbing jab up his left leg as he tried to move, there was a seat from the plane that had come dislodged and fallen with him, landing on top of him, not quite pinning him but not making it easy for him to move either. He looked up, a forest, they were in a forest. He could feel wetness on the side of his face, as blood trickled down his jaw from a wound on his forehead. He tried to sit up on his elbows and get a better look, but every move was met with pain.

Then he heard her voice try to call out his name and he was filled with both fear and relief at the same moment.

This prompted him to fight through the pain, extricate himself from under the seat and move in her direction. "Jamie..... Jamie are you hurt?"

TAG: Jamie Moriarty | NOTES: Crash | CREDIT: © alice

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Jamie Moriarty
 Posted: Mar 22 2017, 02:07 PM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Jessica is online


35 years old / 40 posts




I have reserves of creativity
I have not even begun to tap
Deep breaths, deep breaths. But pain blossomed behind Jamie's eyelids anyway and she could only flutter between gasps, her chest seizing with every movement. She froze, paralysed and trembling as she let the waves of pain wash over her. A plane crash. I'm in a plane crash. The observation was not without merit but her mind struggled to think clearly, stuck like a broken record on that singular thought while everything slurred in her mind's eye. Clarity - clarity...yet she was lethargic with pain with only one thought through her mind. Sherlock.

She dragged open her eyes to look up at light shining down, hitting her straight in the eyes. A dull pain pulsed in her temples and she winced, turning her head a fraction to see a dappled haze of sunlight through a canopy of leaves. She squinted and looked further just enough to see Sherlock shambling towards her. "Sherlock!" He was alive! He'd survived! But the rush of relief at seeing him was tempered by her chest again and Jamie groaned, her head rolling back as she waited for it to pass.

"Ribs." Her voice was shallow as she tried to pull herself up. Her arms travelled further than she expected and looking down her wrists, although a little red, were free of the cuffs. The reason for why came moments later when she saw the mangled metal twisted almost beyond recognition a little further away. They must have come off in the crash. One blessing. She sat up gingerly, every movement however minute painfully, agonisingly drawn out as she reached for Sherlock for support.

But looking at him made her pause. "Sherlock...your face..." She reached out near his forehead. He was bleeding too - was he hurt badly? She couldn't tell, although already her mind was beginning to free itself from the shock, questions rising in her consciousness like bubbles breaking to the water's surface. Jamie looked around at the forest around them. The twisted metal of the plane was all around them, seats jutting out of the ground and remnants of luggage scattered by tree trunks. The wreckage was strewn around them, little fires burning in places. It made her think of something. The fuel. They had been lucky - it hadn't made the small plane become a fireball on impact.

But someone else was less so. Even through the pain Jamie could see the twisted husk of the pilot's cabin, almost bent out of recognition. "What - what happened?"

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Sherlock Holmes
 Posted: Mar 30 2017, 08:56 AM
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Elementary

Tomorrowland

Bach is online


39 years old / 31 posts




His face? What was she going on about. He slid a hand up to his face, and then felt the blood, oh right of course he had a head injury. From how he felt he was fairly certain he might even be concussed, not that he was a doctor, but in his educated opinion. He was also fairly certain he had at least one cracked rib, something was wrong with his left arm considering how much it hurt, and he had some cuts on his right leg from the crash, though as far as he could tell nothing had hit any important arteries and such. He'd need medical attention though, sooner rather than later, they both would by the looks of Jamie, and at the moment he had no idea where they were. He was trying to go over in his head, the flight plans that he had memorised before they left. He had gone over every detail of the plan a hundred times, based on how long after they took off, where they left from in Upstate New York, the approximate air speed. He felt like perhaps they were in Maine somewhere, perhaps Canada even. His head was aching even more as he tried to think, and that was agitating him, he needed a clear mind.

"Oh, right, it's nothing, I'm fine. We crashed, though the skies were clear beforehand, I don't know what happened, felt like we hit a tornado, but that's absurd. As far as I can tell the others are all dead. Can you move? Is anything broken?" There was more worry ins his voice than he normally might have allowed to show, but with his injuries his head wasn't quite in its usual composed place. He wasn't panicking or anything, but as the front of his mind went to work on the task at hand, survival, seeing to their wounds, figuring out where they were and how to get help; another part of his mind was pondering the question of how exactly they had crashed. The rationale part of his brain wanted a reason, a solid concrete scientific reason for what had happened, but another part couldn't help but feel like as everything had gone tits up, he had seen a strange purple smoke and what appeared to be an actual tornado in the middle of the clear sky. Something wasn't adding up, and Sherlock didn't like a riddle he couldn't solve.

TAG: Jamie Moriarty | NOTES: Crash | CREDIT: © alice

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Jamie Moriarty
 Posted: Apr 5 2017, 02:23 PM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Jessica is online


35 years old / 40 posts




I have reserves of creativity
I have not even begun to tap
How badly was he injured? Once Jamie had assessed her own condition her attentions were naturally turning to him. His health was secondary to her own, although by no means inessential. Her eyes flitted over him quickly, trying to appraise the damage. It looked like he hadn't been aware of the injury to his face at all and if they had been anywhere else but the site of a plane crash Jamie would've found amusement in that, that it had somehow been beneath Sherlock's notice to even recognise he'd been hurt - that it was an afterthought to him. But for now she was anxious, unsure about the true extent of how much trouble they were in. He seemed to be doing better than her but whether he had internal injuries or was - in his style - far more injured than he was letting on was hard to tell from just an 'I'm fine'.

Jamie's eyes narrowed.

Not that she had the time nor the energy to question him. He was plunging on, talking about how clear the skies had been beforehand. She frowned. He thought it was a tornado? Though that was the only thing it really could be, surely. The turbulence around the plane had been stronger than any normal storm. Had it been a freak weather incident? The odds seemed unlikely - no, impossible, here in New England. Something still felt odd, though the pain she was experiencing was hindering her analysis. She raised an eyebrow. "Once you've eliminated the impossible, Sherlock..."

"Can you move?" "Yes." Jamie gingerly skimmed a hand over her own chest. The skin there was delicate and she gritted her teeth to the twinges of pain. It was enough, though, to tell her what she was dealing with. "I've either fractured or broken a rib or two." Nothing else was broken from what she could tell. She was going to be covered in bruises later and she might have cuts elsewhere but all she could concentrate on was the pressure on her chest, preventing her from taking normal breaths for the moment. She slowly got herself up to a sitting position and was able to prop herself up on her arms, wincing a little at the effort. "I'll need help to walk but I am otherwise unscathed." She'd done worse and survived worse, and didn't need to tell Sherlock that. Yet somehow she felt the urge to do so.

The question as to how they got here remained unanswered...as did where they were. And despite every intellectual cell in her body thirsting for the answer as to how they had crashed on a secure flight in easy weather in the middle of the woods the pain in her chest was enough to root her in the here and now. She could think of little else but their immediate surroundings - woods, for the most part. They were somewhere in New England, though where Jamie couldn't be sure. "I'm assuming," she said, with a slight wheeze as she propped herself up better on the ground, "You have more of an idea as to where we are than I do." She gave him a wry smile. "You may recall I am not privileged with the knowledge of our flight plan." Not when she could pass it on to her lieutenants.

Jamie cast a glance around, her smile gone as swiftly as it had appeared. She began to struggle upwards, her hand outstretched to Sherlock for support. Even standing - as dizzy as her vision was for a moment before it cleared - it was hard to see anything but trees. "There should be a First Aid somewhere. Did they let you take a phone on the flight?" She doubted it. But considering the stress Sherlock had placed on them all about the danger of moving her maybe the powers that be had allowed a mobile on the grounds of safety. If not...Jamie didn't want to consider that.

Wounded, unable to get help and in the middle of nowhere. The odds didn't look good.

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Sherlock Holmes
 Posted: Apr 21 2017, 06:33 AM
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Elementary

Tomorrowland

Bach is online


39 years old / 31 posts




Of course, once the possible have been eliminated, but at this point he was having a hard time wrapping his head around what the possibilities even were, realistic or absurd. Purple smoke, maybe he'd been dreaming, maybe there had been a loss of oxygen before things went tits up, maybe that explained for what he thought he'd seen. The problem was brewing in the back of his mind, but for now it had to stay just there, in the back of his mind because he had more urgent pressing matters to attend to. Namely their injuries and figuring out where they were so they could get assistance.How far in the woods had they fallen, there were some pretty dense forests in Maine and Canada, for all he knew they could be kilometres from any help. Perhaps for now the best course of action was to figure out what resources they could salvage and just stay with the plane.

Yes well, figuring out how this happened is currently the least of our concerns, first and foremost we need to make an inventory of what can be salvaged. I'm not sure it would be the best idea trying moving far from the plane, as a last resort perhaps, but there's no telling how far these woods go on, there's no telling precisely where we are, for all we know we could end up walking further into the forest."

Sherlock glanced over at the wreckage, there was something rather unsettling about the pattern, the way things had fallen from the sky, something that wasn't adding up but of course that was the fact the plane had been sucked into a portal and essentially spit out above the forest, he didn't know this yet, and until he did he would continue with the nagging feeling that things weren't adding up the way they should, the way the evidence around them was suggesting.

"The plan had been to re-fuel in Canada before carrying on across the Atlantic, based on my estimation I do not believe we were in the air long enough to have reached Canada, if we're in the Northern Maine woods, well from my studies of the maps there are forested areas in that state that could put us quite a bit of a hike to the nearest towns. As far as a mobile, of course you were led to believe none of us had phones on us, however....." Sherlock managed to make his way back over to what he was pretty sure was the seat he had been occupying before the plane crashed and tossed everything all about, and slipped his hand into a carefully concealed spot on the seat that he had used as a sort of secret compartment to hide his mobile before Jamie had gotten on the plane. He pulled it out, the screen was slightly cracked, but seemed it should still work, however when he turned it on it said he had roamed outside his coverage area. "Well, that's odd, I know my phone plan quite specifically should give me global coverage, I should have service whether I'm in the US or across the Pond, it says I'm however roaming, either way the signal is too weak here to get a call out."

TAG: Jamie Moriarty | NOTES: Crash | CREDIT: © alice

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Jamie Moriarty
 Posted: May 2 2017, 02:49 PM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Jessica is online


35 years old / 40 posts




I have reserves of creativity
I have not even begun to tap
Jamie would never go so far as to hate herself. She couldn't possibly, not with her obviously exceptional mind and incandescent reasoning and thought. She was aware of her own beauty, too - or what she understood of beauty, the symmetry, the almost mathematical formula that determined whose features were desirable and whose were not. There was, in her mind, impossible for her to hold such resentment towards herself. But right now if she could get as close to hating herself as she could she would be now. Why had she fallen asleep? Why, at the most critical time? While the plane engines had lulled her into a snooze something had gone wrong and yet all they had was Sherlock's recollection.

Sherlock was, of course, intelligent. He would never have captured her interest like that if he had been anything like 'them', the others that were almost foreign to her. He might have bridged the yawning gulf between Jamie and himself and the rest but he was still one of hers in an undeniable way. But if she had actually been awake at the time, if she had just been a bit more alert...

It would have been foolish to assume she could have stopped the plane crash. But maybe then the reasons behind the plane crashing and the tornado that seemed to come out of nowhere would be clearer to them both. Something was wrong here and yet there was still lack of data, great swathes of nothingness in her current state, and all because she couldn't keep her eyes open.

But Sherlock was right, and Jamie, despite the pain clogging her mind and fogging her senses, nodded. "Alright," she managed carefully, still struggling a little with talking, "S-Sherlock." She would let the matter of exactly how they had fallen down to earth sit...for the moment. He was right - they had more pressing matters at hand. right now. And he was thinking a lot clearer than she was...and she trusted him. An odd, fragile little sense of trust, yet one that was still there regardless.

My paints. That was Jamie's first thought. Her paints and art equipment could be salvaged from the plane. It was part of her deal to come over to the UK - that her situation would remain as it did in the USA: a newspaper every day, her supplies. But she was not stupid. Whether the British government would keep their word or not was debatable when the Americans left and it was just Jamie in her new...residence, but she had packed them anyway. A rare moment of optimism. Yet that wasn't what Sherlock would be thinking about. "Documents." She swallowed and carried on, glancing around for the cargo hold. It was hard to identify in the midst of so much other rubble and mangled pieces of metal. "Our identification. My papers. We need to find those, Sherlock - to prove who we are when we find someone."

When. Not if.

Fine - if they were in the woods they were in the woods, but they wouldn't be able to get help without proving who they were. And as much as Jamie detested to be back in the spacious embrace of the law she didn't want to be out here in the wastes, either. With the law she could possibly get out by tapping into the veins of corruption that seeped under the surface; out here she'd just be cut off from everything she had built. "That is," she added darkly as she shifted where she sat, "If they've survived." Who knew if the cargo was still intact?

Maine. That was better than Canada, in her view. Jamie nodded to Sherlock's estimates. He would know the route better than she did - of course. "As far as a mobile, of course you were led to believe none of us had phones on us, however....." "Naturally..." Despite her pain she couldn't help but smile wryly, only to watch as he appeared to be fiddling with something - a kind of secret compartment. As he came back over victorious her smile grew a little wider. "How ingenious." It was sarcasm - yet the compartment was simple, but effective.

...If it worked. "That's odd." She frowned, her smile disappearing. "What?" "I'm however roaming, either way the signal is too weak here to get a call out." She pursed her lips, going to suck in a breath in irritation only to stop herself just in time. So they were isolated. There would surely be no way of boosting the signal. "The communications on the plane...?" Her hope died out as she said it. If the phone couldn't get signal the plane probably couldn't either. The question was, of course, why. Maine wasn't that out of the way.

Yet that was a question for another day. They were back to survival - the practicalities - the no-frills necessities. Plane Crash Investigation could wait. It wasn't like her to just give up but she was in pain and there was no other choice right now - they had exhausted seemingly all their options. She tried to prop herself up against a tree. "We can't walk." She looked to him with a pointed gaze. "I can't walk." Not without help, and not without it being so slow going it wouldn't be worth it. And he wouldn't leave her. She watched Sherlock only for her gaze to shift to the skies overhead. And that left one option. She sighed gently. "The plane must have.....attracted attention." Or she hoped so. She didn't have to join the dots for him - he'd surely know what that meant: waiting. Waiting for rescue. They couldn't go far from the plane like he had said - not when there could be miles of woodland around them. Jamie shivered almost in anticipation of the colder temperatures.

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Sherlock Holmes
 Posted: May 5 2017, 09:09 AM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Bach is online


39 years old / 31 posts




He sighed and looked around Jamie was right, the communications on the plane could be of help, depending on how damage the nose of the plane took. The pilot was dead and it had taken quite a bit of damage, but that didn't mean the communications bits were damaged enough to make them not work. He looked around, where to start, his head hurt and it was making thinking annoyingly fuzzy, but he was used to fighting through the pain. Water and first aid kit, yes, then after that he'd see about getting a fire started, if there was anyone around maybe they would notice the smoke and investigate.

"We can certainly hope the plane drew attention, but it really all depends on where we are, we can also hope that the pilot got off a message before crashing. I'm just going to go poke around the wreckage, see if I can find some water bottles and a first aid kit." It wasn't easy, but after awhile he managed to find the first aid kit and a few bottles of water that hadn't been busted open during the crash. He was also able to give the cockpit a glance over, he'd probably want to move the pilot's body before trying to figure out if he could get the communications to work, but they looked intact at least from this end of things. Finally he went back over to where Jamie was and offered her one of the water bottles.

"Drink, we need to stay hydrated, I found a first aid kit. There's a flare gun in there as well, but we should be careful when we use it, don't want to waste it." Sherlock sat down near Jamie and opened the first aid kit, he couldn't see his head wound to tend to it, he had no idea if it would need stitches, but it probably at least needed to be disinfected and bandaged and without a mirror he could hardly do it himself. "I'm going to need you to tend to this, I'm afraid I can't do it myself without a mirror."

TAG: Jamie Moriarty | NOTES: Crash | CREDIT: © alice

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Jamie Moriarty
 Posted: May 14 2017, 03:41 AM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Jessica is online


35 years old / 40 posts




I have reserves of creativity
I have not even begun to tap
Moriarty had never had to deal with survival before. Not calculated survival under city lights and the glint of guns - she had had plenty of that in the early stages of her career. Back then there had been enemies around every corner, pitfalls through which to topple; now, of course, she was untouchable, beyond the reach of most of her kind....most, but not all. It had been a short lived threat. But cold, hard survival? That was alien. There was nothing to alter here, nothing to hijack or take over by force or threaten or even appeal to. The elements didn't answer to humans. They were at the whim of the weather, something that neither of them - with the long arm of the law or the recesses of crime - could fix nor alter.

And without any sort of working communication to the outside world - well, she failed to see how they were going to get any immediate help. Or any help at all, for that matter, and for the foreseeable future. They had exhausted their options, surely. The plane radio was a last resort and that was only if it worked. Jamie glanced at Sherlock as he sighed. He summed up everything she was feeling, too, in that one simple gesture. Resignation. She was feeling tired, too, so tired, only to revive a little at his theories. He was right, of course. The plane getting attention was a futile hope that depended on a number of factors. "I doubt the pilot sent a message," she replied pragmatically. "He seemed too busy screaming." As was she, at the time. Jamie swallowed that thought.

As Sherlock mentioned he was going to look through the rubble Jamie was stirred out of her thoughts, and yet what he was saying was worse than truths she simply didn't want to accept. A flicker of alarm crossed over her face. He was going to go off? Without her? What if something happened? She opened her mouth but then she closed it again, micro expressions crossing over her features before they return to the analytical, stony wall they usually were. Jamie pursed her lips. Stop it. She was being silly. The wreckage wasn't that strewn apart, wasn't that far away. They were in the epicentre of it all, of course - the eye of the storm - but the rest of the twisted rubble of the plane wasn't that far off. For once in her life she was being clingy. So she wordlessly nodded, not trusting her mouth not to say something she would regret, and watched him go.

It was funny what suddenly made her restablish her priorities.

As he went digging through the wreckage Jamie propped herself up a little more, wincing with every tiny movement she made. The pain was not excruciating but nor was it mildly uncomfortable. Just as she had thought he wasn't too far away, although she had to crane her neck to see him go into the cockpit. Her gaze flitted away from him and towards the wooded surroundings, only to look back as he came over. She nodded a little at the offer. "Thank you." She opened the bottle and took a sip or two. Jamie hadn't realised how thirsty she was - or how dry her throat was, for that matter. She sighed and took another few sips, placing the bottle down between them.

A flare gun and a First Aid kit. That wasn't as bad as it could have been, but clearly this plane had only been kitted out with exactly what it had needed and no more. One mastermind; one detective; one First Aid kit. Whether that was a security measure she wasn't sure but yet she wouldn't have been surprised. The CIA and MI5 both assumed that she didn't want to be here. The very concept of her being exactly where she wanted to be didn't seem to occur to them.

"I'm going to need you to tend to this." Jamie turned to Sherlock. He was right - the wound on his face needed medical attention. So did she, but she could acknowledge that only one of them could tend to the other at any one time. "Alright." She moved closer to Sherlock, propping herself up in the best way she could. She winced inwardly but remained silent, for the moment focusing purely on Sherlock. It wasn't too bad a wound - it couldn't be, by her reasoning. He seemed to be reacting fine to what was going on around him, which boded well for the beautiful little brain inside his skull, although she didn't have the training to know anything more.

That didn't mean it wasn't serious, though.

"You'll have to see a doctor," she murmured under her breath. But for now..she looked in the First Aid kit for some cleansing wipes, rooting through the safety pins, tweezers and scissors and other materials for them. She brought one up to his face. "Let me. Keep still, Sherlock." She dabbed at the wound and trying to clean up some of the blood. She wasn't used to being delicate like this - nor did it occur to her to mention it might sting. Regardless the blood was beginning to come off now so she could see the full extent of the wound. She went for another wipe just to clean the rest of it up. "There." That would stop infection. Jamie paused for a moment, careful not to harm her own ribs further before twisting back to the kit. "There should be bandages in here somewhere. I'll look...."

This all felt uncomfortably domestic, given where they were and where exactly they had been going moments before. She paused, going silent for a moment, before she spoke again. "This...this is more Joan's area than mine." Her voice held a certain...something in it, as she seemed to be searching for bandages with a little more focus than the task actually required.

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Sherlock Holmes
 Posted: May 17 2017, 12:45 PM
Quote


Elementary

Tomorrowland

Bach is online


39 years old / 31 posts




The screams, Sherlock had nearly forgotten the screams coming from the cock pit, they of course would have had a front row seat at whatever it was that had happened to the plane, much larger windows. He had never heard men scream as such, planes having problems in the air were something pilots were supposed to be trained to handle, remain calm under pressure and all that. This made Sherlock even more curious as to exactly what had happened that caused them to crash. A more superstitious mind might wonder as to what horrors they had witnessed, that it must have been something other worldly to make them behave as such, but without any other evidence Sherlock did not want to jump to any conclusions just yet.

As Jamie started seeing to his head wound, Sherlock's mind was wandering to a few places. One of course was glancing at Jamie, figuring out in what ways he would have to help tend to her injuries, at least in as much as he had the resources to do so. if they ended up having to walk far she might need some sort of makeshift crutch perhaps, then again might not be a bad idea for them both to if they ended up having to do a lot of hiking. He was also considering that they would need some sort of shelter, and warmth, depending on how long they would be there, he decided his next course of action after seeing to any medical needs he could help Jamie with was to build a fire that would be warmth, light when night drew upon them, and a way to signal their presence to anyone around them. He got so lost in thought, he suddenly winced and flinched at what she was doing to his head, he didn't like that he'd winced and he grumbled slightly under his breath, not at her clearly, but to his annoyance at himself.

"Yes well, considering the circumstances, I'd say you're handling it all quite admirably. Once you're done, I'll see to you, and then we should focus on getting a fire going, I feel it's absolutely the most important thing we should work on next. It'll provide warmth and light as it gets dark and serve to alert anyone nearby of our presence."

TAG: Jamie Moriarty | NOTES: Crash | CREDIT: © alice

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Jamie Moriarty
 Posted: Jul 2 2017, 01:59 PM
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35 years old / 40 posts




I have reserves of creativity
I have not even begun to tap
A normal person would have hugged him by now. Physical contact would be desired by anyone in these circumstances - would be required, even, to recover from what they had been through. The trauma of being through a crash could surely only be lessened, put at bay, by the reassuring touch of another person; someone else's arms around her and her arms around him in an embrace meant to block out the world and its terrors. I'm here, such a silent symbol should've said. We're alive. That's all that matters. We'll get past this. We'll survive. We'll live.

But she was not normal, and neither were he. If they were they wouldn't be here - her wrists still chafed and raw from 'no chafing' cuffs, him with an injury to the head, both embroiled in a world of crime and danger and international forces denoting the shift of both their lives. This wasn't a world for normal people, and their relationship was both tender and utilitarian. So she didn't hug him. The past, their past, meshed together with the reality of the present to make too bitter a mix for that. Not Irene, but Jamie. Not artist, or not entirely, but criminal mastermind. And he was her supervisor here, she'd been told that morning by her handlers back in New York. Not her friend, if he was to begin with.

She tucked a coil of blonde strands behind her ear as she worked on his wound. As if she'd run. She was in no position to run, and even then she had nowhere to go. Where would she run to, in the middle of the woods? She couldn't go anywhere, and even if she could Sherlock remained. She couldn't leave him. Moriarty would torture and torment him as much as she pleased, stretch that little mind as far it as it would go - but then no further. She'd never kill him, never go so far as to rid herself of him entirely even if it held gain. According to Joan, that was what love was. Her form of love, anyway.

Joan was on her mind now. Funny, out in the middle of the woods after a plane crash. Sherlock probably wanted to be with her right now, not Jamie. She wasn't sure where the jab came from about her - perhaps a reminder that Jamie was the one who had known him the longest, who shared experiences with this with him. But Joan would surely do a better job of dressing the wound. He flinched under her hand and she froze. "Oh." She'd been heavy-handed without even noticing. For once she'd hurt him unintentionally. "Sorry," she murmured, trying to dab more delicately. "You're handling it all quite admirably." Jamie raised an eyebrow, only to continue rummaging through for the bandages.

"It doesn't look like it's rained here," she replied. "Wood should be dry enough to light. Short of spelling out 'SOS', it's our best option. We'll just have to hope this isn't a camping spot." The last they thing they needed was being somewhere where lighting fires in the woods was normal and expected. "We might have to think of a shelter, too. But the fire might alert a rescue team before we need that." She was talking a bit too much for her ribs to cope with and she took a few gentle breaths as she finally found the bandages, careful not to be too verbose. "I don't know why we haven't been discovered yet, but a fire should help." She carefully covered the wound. "Long as we avoid the rest of the aviation fuel, that is," she added darkly under her breath.

Being blown up wasn’t the way she wanted to go, personally.

She looked at her handiwork. It wasn't medical grade but it would do. "There. That will stop the bleeding, Sherlock."[colorb] Now for her. [color=#aa4d4d]"It's my ribs." Jamie felt her side gingerly and dragged herself back by a bit against the tree she’d been leaning against before. "I was hit by luggage in the overhead compartment." As far as she could tell, anyway. Breathing was painful and pain rocketed down her chest if she tried to move too quickly. Jamie lifted up her blouse a little to let him see. Bruising covered most of one side and there was a bit of grazing from knocks and the fall, but it was mostly concentrated in one area where the luggage must’ve hit with the most impact. Even from her angle she could tell she'd still need to go to hospital - if this godforsaken place even knew of those. She didn't trust these small American towns in the middle of nowhere. She tensed a little in anticipation of possible pain.

ADD.: Sherlock Holmes | WORDS: 813 | NOTES: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! SOMEHOW THIS SLIPPED PAST ME I ONLY TWIGGED YESTERDAY

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