-it has three corners. [Wednesday Evening]

[highfunctioning]

 Of course.

It was so simple.  So utterly, embarrassingly obvious.  

How had he not seen it before? 

This is why he'd been brought here.  The feeling had been building for days, that he'd been missing the bigger picture, that he was going about things the wrong way.  He was attacking his current predicament with science; scrutinizing blood samples, messing about with cybernetically enhanced rats, trying to put together patterns of the people that came on board... But to what end?  What was the point of knowing the cage, if he was powerless to break free?  How much more interesting to use what was at hand to his advantage, and thus gain the ultimate freedom?!  This morning Sherlock had woken to find himself completely certain that the Proserpina was not a test, nor a punishment, but his great reward for being so extraordinary and working so tirelessly.  He was on a vessel in space; a vast, untamed frontier.  The possibilities were endless for a man with a quick mind, no fear, and nothing to lose.  

For a pirate.


Abandoning his supper of sugar cereal and chocolate milk, which he'd forgotten was the perfect meal, Sherlock stood and practically sprinted to the wardrobe.  A familiar voice usually wouldn't have dissuaded him from this kind of mission, but he was actually dying to share his revelation with someone.  

Besides which, he'd be needing a crew...

Comments

[the_iceman]

Likewise it was perfectly obvious to Mycroft why he had been put here; to protect and to serve. (And to eat copious amounts of cake and chocolate chip cookies, but that was beside the point.) His brother was an unguided missile, a hurricane blind to its destruction, a unique mind threatened by its own recklessness. This space ship was a dangerous place and as with any dangerous place it became only more dangerous when his brother was set loose in it.

He was here to protect his brother. He needed to be guarded and guided. From the world, from this ship, from himself.
And apparently, from the wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” He asked, a frown wrinkling his forehead and worry evident in his eyes.

[highfunctioning]

"Mycroft! Perfect, you're here. It's going to be brilliant. I can't believe it never occurred to me before!"

He saw the look on his brother's face, and rather than barreling through it or walking away, he felt the burning desire to make him agree.

"Don't be cross, it's so perfectly obvious -it's what's needed! We can't just sit here and let things happen to us anymore. We're going to make things happen! I'll never be bored again, and every day will be a new adventure because we won't have to wait for someone to get murdered and Lestrade to call or John to drum up interest with his insipid blog!"

[the_iceman]

"Oh god, are you going on a killing spree?" Mycroft asked, aghast, and not quite joking. "Have you lost it completely?"

[highfunctioning]

"No! Well, possibly. Probably, but it's really an occupational hazard, don't you think? You make it sound like I'm off to kill everyone myself. Don't be ridiculous and stop spoiling the fun!"

He seized his brother by the shoulders to help him focus.

"I know you, Mycroft. You pretend to be socially responsible, but you're just disinterested in what other people want as I am. It's why you at play puppet master and carry an umbrella. It's why you do at least one of those things. You know what I'm trying to say." Sherlock released Mycroft and changed tactics.

"You know as well as I do that we're wasted as cogs in the machinery; we're supposed to be pushing the buttons."

[the_iceman]

"I thought you liked being a cog in the machine - the most crucial one, yes, but still; a cog. That's where the adventure is. It's why you became a consulting detective. It's why you wanted to be a-" Halt. Full stop. "What are you doing?" He repeated his former question.

[highfunctioning]

Sherlock's eyes glittered with the intensity of his glee.

"We're taking the ship. We're going to be pirates."

[the_iceman]

"No," Mycroft argued in return. True, it wasn't the most eloquent of arguments he had ever given in his life, but it was one of the few heart-felt ones.

Was it liquor that had caused it, or had a replicator supplied his brother with a few bags of cocaine?

"That's an idiotic plan, and- you're not going to do that." Again not his best line of reasoning, but one he felt very strongly about.