Lalalala voicetest

[always1895]

My dear lady,

So you are to be my writer now, yes? Or rather typist based on that peculiar machine you are using to to bring my thoughts to light. Please do be kind as to not stray into that romantic drivel that you do so enjoy.

Sherlock Holmes

Now where did you put my tobacco?

Comments

I.. I'm really sorry about him, but may I say I love you?

[glassesbrat]

Are you by chance talking about Dr. Watson's take on the case involving Jefferson Hope?

Can Iove you too?

[always1895]

Why... yes.

[He bends down to look at Conan's level.]
Are you a reader of Watson's works?

Yes you may

[glassesbrat]

Of course! You're the reason I became a detective!

[darknessiknow]

I am afraid that all muns are able to think of are romantics.

[always1895]

It's terribly unproductive.

[oi...]

[darknessiknow]

Indeed it is when one neglects the development of the characters.

[solvescases]

Well...this is interesting. [His own face before him, so many years ago.] I would help with the tobacco but I'm afraid my stash is long gone. They don't seem to appreciate it in the 22nd century.

Holy crap! SH22 Holmes! :D

[always1895]

Indeed. This is a pretty little puzzle. [So young. And yet, the features are unmistakably his own.]

A pity. I suppose our other little vice is frowned upon as well.

:D yay, recognition

[solvescases]

[Reanimation will do that.]

Most assuredly. [Sherlock leans easily on his cane with something like a nostalgic smile.] How is Watson?

Re: :D yay, recognition

[always1895]

Watson is doing well. He with a patient at the moment.

[solvescases]

Of course, he is. [Sherlock does miss him at times. While the compu-droid Watson is a good companion, sometimes he does miss the real Watson.] Good to hear.

What case are you on? If you don't mind me asking... [He's wildly curious as to a canon point, if any.]

[a_l_o_i_s]

You... [He wheezes, as best he can. His voice is French accented and soft.] You're a detective... can you prove... prove who did this to me? No one else can...

[always1895]

[What a... strange occurrence. The poor man, or rather what's left of him, is asking for his help. He studies the 'man' and notices the many scars upon the body. Many are old and look self-inflicted, while others look new and are not. Despite being extremely emaciated now, he was well-to-do, and very athletic. The accent is French, though the region escapes him at this time.

Holmes motions the client to sit down and then sits down himself, his hands together and fingers splayed.]

Pray, spare no details.

[a_l_o_i_s]

My name... is Alois Racine. [Sitting down clearly winds him, a little, but resting that infernal device around his neck against the chair enables him to speak better, and after several deep breaths, he feels better. Physically, that is. Not emotionally.] It's a long story. I met a woman... Justine Florebelle. She was... my everything, but... she had unusual tastes. She was so pretty, and sweet, and then the mood would take over her... she'd do terrible things - in fun, no one ever really... really got hurt. Then her father died...

[Every pause is a wheezing fight for air, gasps that he can barely spare, lungs heaving with the effort, visibly shaking.

[always1895]

[The collar-like device is clearly causing Mr. Racine much distress. Without Watson, Holmes must take up the reins of providing comfort. Is there any way to remove that collar?]

[a_l_o_i_s]

[It's embedded into the skin upon close inspection, with thorn like nails that the skin has grown and healed around like piercings, limiting mobility to three inches within the inner collar. A doctor, or maybe two, would be able to devise a way to remove it without killing him, but, well, Watson isn't here.]