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Mundane.

This is positively ridiculous. I don't want to go anywhere! I am perfectly content at 221B.

On the one hand, there's no one there. Literally, there's nobody. I can sit and think for days on end and no one will pester me with eating or watching telly or 'help me with this completely obvious problem that I'm too dull to work out for myself.'

On the other? It also means John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly and Mycroft aren't about. And who else will keep me entertained. They might be average, but I'm used to having them around. And what will become of them, if I'm not around?

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[This Sherlock is pouty and grumpy. And speaking very rapidly.]

Oh there's plenty to think about. Why is the place empty? Who lived there before? Why did they all leave? Why are they trying to repopulate it? Who is 'they'?

[And taking meeting another version of himself in stride, apparently. He must not be as new at this as this Sherlock is. Well, this version isn't going to be letting that on any time soon.]

Without a population, it might be difficult to answer those questions satisfactorily. Unless they've left a lot of material behind.

[This one isn't new to it at all. He's had a long meta conversation with himself just recently.]

It is unclear how much they have left behind. I will learn more when I actually enter the city. For now I have only seen pictures of it, and well pictures hardly tell the entire story.

[How... Curious.]

And if there's no evidence to examine, no clues to chase, nothing fresh, or different?

It's not here and it's unlike anything I've seen before. That alone is fresh and different.

For five minutes, maybe.

[He so wants to ask if you are who you appear to be, because while the all the evidence points to that conclusion, it is completely impossible and wrong... And if he does ask, then he'll have asked, and that would never do.]

[He rolls his eyes, he knows what the other him is thinking.]

Why do you doubt?

[And he can tell you know. This is not going to end well.]

I don't.

[But he wants to, he really wants to, and he doesn't like wanting to disbelieve the evidence for reasons of personal satisfaction. It's irrational and sentimental and stupid, but the prospect of other versions of himself really bothers him.]

[He sighs.]

Its rather elementary. You and I are not from the same specific point in time.

[A cursory scan of his face reveals that... No, there are some slight differences. Very slight, but still there.]

...Or reality. Unless you recall this meeting already.

[He looks around and makes a broad gesture to take it in.]

I don't think that matters in this place. I mean if here I can know that I exist in someone else's head space, then it is entirely plausible for me to meet and have a conversation with myself.

Different 'head spaces' do equate to different realities, though. So far as we're concerned.

Wrong.

[He gives his other self a disgruntled look.]

Different head spaces offer different interpretations to the same reality.

No; each reality may be similar, but still distinct. This place gives better proof of MWI than anything previously, and each mundane creates first an initial, then each subsequent, divergence.

[He sighs.]

There is but one reality. What is divergent is how observant one's writer is...

Many Worlds Interpretation implies otherwise. Of course, if you're a Copenhagenist, you'd disagree with me-- but then again, you couldn't, or you'd be stepping on your own point.

The fact that we do disagree proves my point.

No, the fact that we disagree only shows we are coming at it from different points in our reality. I like talking to myself from my own point in reality better.

[He has to bite his tongue from calling himself dull, although, since he's already been through that stage, he would be right to call himself boring. Because it would be boring to repeat the experience.]

And what intervening events changed your opinion from my current one to the one you now hold?

[Not that he actually expects an answer, mind you.]

[His eyes narrow and grow dark.]

Moriarty was right.

[He says nothing more.]

[He's not sure which thing he's referring to --although he suspects-- and in any case, there is no way for the words 'Moriarty was right' to be a good thing.]

I believe I need to... What is the term? Force a canon update.

You can do whatever you please, it has no baring on me.

[Stoic to a fault.]

Not any more, at least, according to your position.

[He's being petty and childish now. You know more than he does, thus you're getting the Mycroft Treatment. Enjoy.]

Are you really going to sit there analysing yourself? Because none of that matters. At all. Ever.

There are precious few other ways to entertain myself at the minute. Her attention has been diverted, and there's so little of it to go around.

[By which he means his mundane has begun watching the second season.]

[He sighs.]

If she is watching it, you'd better go help her. Few catch everything important on the first go around.

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consultingsociopath - 2012-01-24 03:02 (UTC) - Expand

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