dear_mun | On reserving at Ataraxion

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On reserving at Ataraxion

I know...

[She pauses, trying to get all of her thoughts collected before continuing on. It's a hard thing to do, especially for little Molly Hooper. She glances up at the ceiling before briefly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Start again, Molly, the second time's the charm.]

I know... I know you're nervous. And... I know you're worried, putting me into a game. But you've got characters there already, so it's not like it's a new place. And you already know all the people there and they're lovely, and they like you and they like me, and there are people I know there, so there's definitely nothing to worry about.

[She nods her head, as if that help re-enforce the point.]

Definitely. Definitely.

So, uh. [And here she gives what she hopes is a reassuring smile.] Don't worry about it, okay? It'll be fine. It always is.

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There's likely a lot to worry about if you're riding blindly onto the proverbial battlefield with sheer luck buoying as a steed. Lovely is a pacifying term. You would do better, madam, to root yourself in the realism of the situation whenever you arrive.

[ Barely glancing up from a newspaper like the jerk he is. Sorry, Molly. ]

If you want my advice, that is.

[Well. She was smiling. But she's certainly not anymore. And she's staring at him, a bit heartbroken. She worked hard, gathering up that much courage, and you've just destroyed it.]

Sorry, uh...

[She lets out a breath, that's half of a disbelieving laugh, because she's not entirely what he's trying to say. But if she didn't know any better, which was entirely possible, mind you, it sounded an awful lot like he's telling her she should worry when she had just convinced herself not to.]

...what?

Who's nervous, now? [ Seems like you're the nervous one, Molly. ]

I'm not--

[She stops herself there, because those two words were definitely enough to prove that she was, indeed, quite nervous. She takes a deep breath and her fingers fidget together--obviously a nervous habit. She opens and closes her mouth once before words actually come tumbling out, and she comes up with the stunning comeback of:]

I'm not nervous.

[ Ohh. He's not quite sure how to feel about all that. Not that he doesn't appreciate a few more familiar faces, mind you ~~and with her in the medbay he'll be able to get access to pretty much anything he wants~~, but... Well, it's hardly the safest place in the galaxy, is it? He quirks an eyebrow at her with a moment's consideration. ]

Afraid I really must be in agreement with my older and considerably more irritating counterpart. If you plan on an extended holiday on the Tranquility I might recommend you worry over a great number of things, though on the upside I'm sure you'll have plenty of cadavers to sort through.

[Her eyebrows furrow together in incredulousness.]

Cadavers?

[The words are out of her mouth and she immediately knows it's a stupid question, and her facial expressions obviously reflect that. She's clearly berating herself for letting the word out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it, because she knows how Sherlock will interpret that question. He'll take it like he always does, and and she's quick to carry on before he can make some comment about her intelligence, because she's not stupid, no matter what Sherlock, or any other person for that matter, might think.]

No, I mean. [Here she lets out a little laugh because stupid, Molly, stupid.] I know what a cadaver is, obviously. I work with them, of course I know what they are. I mean...

[What did she mean? It didn't have to do with her work, she knows that. She got off on a tangent, she does that sometimes, but they were talking about cadavers and--oh, right! Space. ]

I mean. You're all stuck on a spaceship... and you have cadavers?

[What have you people been up to? Oh goodness, what is she getting herself into?

Wait, no, stop. Sherlock's said something else, and it's only just now that her brain has worked out what he said and what he means.]

Wait, hang on. Counterpart? He's... Are you saying... He's you?

[ Molly Hooper is, despite his many snipes and jabs and merciless insults, his friend. Molly Hooper was there for him when he truly, desperately needed it. Molly Hooper saved his life. But old habits die hard and, as evidenced by one John Watson, just having his loyalty to the point of a fake suicide off a rooftop or a debt he can likely never repay does not actually spare you from his wrath. ]

Yes, Molly, it just so happens that when a living, breathing life form happens to in one way or another expire, through some form of wizardry a cadaver magically takes its place. Seeing as we have a particularly large collection of humans and otherwise one would expect that cadavers would, in fact, be reasonably commonplace.

[ His tone is snide and offhand - Oh, look at you, forever the idiot again - before he appears to, shockingly enough, realize himself. His lips purse before he releases a slow exhale through his nose. He lacks any hint of a razor's edge when he continues. ]

He is, technically, Sherlock Holmes -- but no, he's far from being me. He and I are quite different. He's older for one, and comes from a different era from the both of us. There was another like me until recently, but even he and I had very minor differences. I'm certain theoretical physics is well beyond your grasp- [ Oh, and there's that superiority again. He reins himself in again, lamely. ] ...It's a complicated matter, so it's hardly unusual that you wouldn't.

[ Today's lesson: Being nice to Molly is hard. ]

Paring down your concerns.

[ A nod to his younger, dandy counterpart. ]

He is right to agree that stemming any form of reasoning because you wish to convince yourself everything is lovely will get you killed. As opposed to actively looking out for yourself, you would be doing everything in your power to remain blind and dumb in each situation you found yourself in, an extended danse macabre until the final note were plucked.

[ In other words, why are you making efforts to be stupid? ]

It is the very dichotomy of common sense.

Oh.

[Except, no. Not oh. That is the most not-oh oh to have ever been said. It's the type of "oh" that one says when they really don't understand anything at all, but they're merely pretending they agree so that they don't appear stupid. Or, in this case, stupider than she's already made herself seem. It's tiny and quiet and ever-so-slightly confused. She thought her own Sherlock could be confusing at times but you, my dear Holmes, take the cake. There's Latin in that explanation, and Molly doesn't really speak Latin. But she's been around Sherlock long enough that she can, more-or-less, decode what he's trying to say. It just takes a few seconds is all.]

No, I-- [She shakes her head.] I'm not going to try to get myself killed or anything. [She gives a little laugh.] That would be stupid.

[Which she decidedly is not, by the way.]

Assuredly, madam, you are far from the commonplace brand of wit.

[ A tight smile ensues, dropping when he gestures as if to flurry the conversation on. ]

You must indulge me, beyond the reaffirmation of your basest sanity, how did you come to be acquainted with my counterpart? The matter is most ... curious.

[ Don't think he doesn't see you making efforts at excusing her behaviour, other!Holmes. ]

[She knows he's trying. Really, she does. She's not so oblivious as to not notice him stopping and trying over in the middle of his explanations, nor the complete opposite tones. But even still, knowing he's trying doesn't magically make it all better. Because the way he says his words to her are still the exact same as before, and they make her feel completely stupid and useless, even though she knows she's not. She tells herself every single day that she's smart, she has a good, steady job, and she's even got friends. She's happy.

But then Sherlock walks into the hospital and says two words to her and everything is turned so upside down and she doesn't even know what to feel. It's completely maddening.

But this time, she can't help but feel insulted. He might be trying, yes, and she might be stupid compared to him or Ji--Moriarty--and lots of other people, but she's not stupid. Really she's not. And she knew he was going to be like this, like she was so stupid that she didn't even know the details of her own job. But knowing she was right only made things worse.]

Yes, I--I know what a cadaver is. I work with dead bodies, I can't... not know what a cadaver is. I was just--

[Sometimes she has to wonder what the point is, trying to argue with Sherlock Holmes. It's not like she was ever going to win, and the end result is always her looking like a bigger moron than she did before. Which is never something she thinks is possible until it happens and she just sighs. She guesses she'll figure that out when she arrives, then.]

It's fine.

[Theoretical physics is something that is totally beyond her reach. She knows about physics, of course, and she knows for sure that the kind of physics he's talking about isn't the sort with Forces and Momentum.]

What like, an alternate universe?

[That, at least, is something she understands.]

[Molly is... not entirely certain if that is a compliment or not. Really, it could be taken either way, and she's so used to hearing negative things from Sherlock that she's not completely sure. But, given the context of the conversation, it almost seems like it could be a compliment. Which is... sort of baffling, to be honest. She's not really used to compliments, she usually has to go way out of her way in order to catch one. Especially a compliment from Sherlock Holmes, even if it is a different one entirely.

She chooses to cautiously accept said compliment, giving him a smile.]

Oh, uh. [She gives a unsure laugh.] Thanks?

[That is most definitely a change in conversations, and one she will welcome. She would rather not talk about her levels of intelligence.]

He, uh. He works--well, I don't think it's work, really, I'm not sure they pay him--but he uses the labs in the hospital that I work at. [She gives a nod.] I work at a morgue.

[ Of course she accepts it as a compliment. Of course. Whichever way it ought to be taken, that's a moot point now that he has a working scale model of her reasoning in mental tow. ]

A most curious profession for a woman. Family business?

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On reserving at Ataraxion

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I would like to apologize for this tl;dr.

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