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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jun 21, 2012 8:06:22 GMT
Why were birthdays even invented. Wy should one celebreate the passing of exactly a year since their last birthday, which eventually lead to the fact that a certain amount of time had passed since their birth. It wasn't important. So why did the British Government insist on trying to visit when it was his birthday, the detective jsut couldn't understand. Although priding himself on his deductive abilities, he simply could not understand his brother's actions. Neither of them were normal brothers, or even considered normal people, so why did Mycroft try to act like all the boring stupid people.
Now, the detective was hidding out at Saint Barts, it was the place he was more likely to be, so he was less likely to go there, or so the logic would say. And hopefully Mycroft wouldn't be bothered going all the way here. The whole process of considering where Sherlock was would be based around the idea of how someone thought. It was similar to the serial suicide case, Sherlock remarked, with little interest as he checked his phone for any new cases, that would make a good birthday present. But there were no messages. Putting his phone back into his pocket, Sherlock turned to stare at the chemicals he had to hand. What experiments should he try out today? It would need to be something helpful.
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Post by John Watson on Jun 21, 2012 8:25:49 GMT
After Sherlock made his escape through the window, John retreated down the stairs. He opened the door as the cool London air hit him like a wave.
John thought of where Sherlock had fled to. He did deserve a happy birthday, after all. It was his first birthday back from the dead. He wouldn't let it go unnoticed, ti Sherlock's dismay. He shrugged as he arrived outside of Saint Barts.
John looked back on the spot where Sherlock had hit the ground after he had jumped off this very same structure. He winced. However, he cleared his mind quickly. It had almost been a year since that happened. And this was a time to celebrate that he was just faking and he lived another year.
He arrived through the sliding doors thinking of the places he could go. Well, where's the room with the chemicals?
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jun 21, 2012 8:39:14 GMT
Deciding that he might look at the computer, Sherlock wondered what if he would be able to get into the security system. At times he thought of those things, knowing that a criminal would look for those sorts of things. But the detective never acted on those ideas, it was merely an acknowledgement of what someone may attempt to do. You had to know your enemy. Or even think like them at times. That was one way of being able to figure out what they were going to do. But Barts was only a hospital and so an unlikely cause of concern.
Searching the computer briefly, to see if there was anything interesting on the server, which the detective was allowed to do, he recieved a message from the homeless network that John had arrived at Saint Batholomew's. While Mycroft had his security cameras, Sherlock had the homeless network and although they were mainly looking out for criminals, ever since Sherlock's death and the threat on John's life, he had them keeping an eye out on his friend while Sherlock was elsewhere. So, John had reached the conclusion on where he was, correct for once. Maybe John was improving.
Since the hospital was big, Sherlock decided to be beneficial for once and texted John. The lab is on the second floor, main stairs from reception, right, third left, sixth door. SH He texted, before turning back to look at the chemicals. Maybe he could test out a few more poisons and see if he could find more ways of identifying them. There hadn't been too much of a study into poisons in the blood stream, now how to test that. Mix blood with posion, that seemed viable. You couldn't test these sorts of things on humans and Sherlock did not have any mice on hand to test on.
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Post by John Watson on Jun 23, 2012 8:16:59 GMT
As John walked in to the hospital his phone buzzed from in his pocket. He retrieved it from his pocket and looked at the text message. Before be could read it, he realized a man was waiting behind him
"Oh, sorry." John said moving aside as the man passed.
John looked at the text. It said:
The lab is on the second floor, main stairs from reception, right, third left, sixth door. SH
John continued walking, but not before wondering about Sherlock's text. He knew that it was Sherlock because of the SH at the end of the text, but how could he possibly know he was here?
He shrugged before starting to take the directions. It was a bit confusing at first, but he got used to following the directions.
Before long, he was at the lab with Sherlock's back to him, messing with chemicals.
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on Jun 23, 2012 21:14:52 GMT
Deciding that experimenting on identifying different poisons in blood was something worthy of his attention. Picking out different poisons as he waited for John, he examined them all, he didn't have enough blood supply at the moment to test all of them. The hospital didn't let him use many of the blood bags, mostly never. So the detective would have to supply the blood himself. Picking out five of the most interesting poisons, and replacing the rest of them on the shelf. Picking up a test tube, he pricked his finger and let the blood drip into the tube.
Of course, it was only a little amount of blood and Sherlock wipped the wound with a substance found in the animal kingdom in animals such as vampire bats and mosquiotes. It was a chemical that prevented the blood from clotting and should allow enough blood for the experiments. However, it wasn't that much. Only a centimetre and three quaters in each beaker. So in total that was in total nine and a half centimetres. Placing a plaster on his finger, carefully, as he was to be working with poison, Sherlock glanced up briefly as John entered.
"Hello John," Sherlock commented as he went through the poisions, carefully measuring out one eight of a centimetre of each different type. Then, the mixed it with the blood and labeled each poison and blood mix. "I hope you didn't decide to visit because of Mycroft's arrival this morning." Sherlock said, uninterestedly as he worked with the poisions, looking at the combination between them and the blood. Nothing worth noticing, although that had been obvious, still, Sherlock wrote that down in an observation book, then he paused, considering his next line of action. Probably the same test on all of them and then aquiring more blood later. He had more to spare, anyway. Just hopefully no one would mention his birthday or anything else of such trivial nature.
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[M:0]
