thelongnow_logs | The Race: Checkpoint #2 [Windsor Castle]

The Race: Checkpoint #2 [Windsor Castle]

If the racers hadn't yet noticed how different this world was, they certainly did now. Windsor Castle was completely abandoned. The once-pristine landscaping grew wild. The architecture was peppered with dirty brick, tattered flags, and vandalized statuary. The only sound was the wind.

There was nothing of interest near the principal entrance. If the teams got lost, they'd likely find graffiti instructing to "seek the eldest." The smartest would seek the Curfew Tower, the oldest feature. Here, an easy-to-miss red flag peeked from the grass.

It was a frustrating setup. There was no way into the sprawling tower from the outside. Anything could have been significant- the road signs, the empty residences across the street, the frozen clock on the tower that told time for no one but the sky.

What the players truly sought was this: a fallen lamppost, with what appeared to be a missing persons flyer attached. One racer from each team would see their captured loved one in the picture, with this notice below:

BEAR THE BURDEN.

[Each team that arrives at the flag will be given a burden. This burden will only affect the person who sees their loved one pictured on the post. Depending on the burden, this individual may have a difficult time contributing to the rest of the race. You'd better hurry...]

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When they arrived at Windsor Castle, there was much more running to be done. There was always running to be done with these two. Sherlock sprinted around the grounds, searching until they found the tiny, familiar red flag. He wouldn't exactly say that it was a welcome sight, but... Well, it was good enough and he damn well wanted that funnel cake sooner or later. It wasn't exactly hard to see the fallen lampost (strange little thing) and spot the words and pictures all about it.

"Bear the burden, eh?" He said with a bit of a laugh. "Is that all? Last time I nearly got my head cut off and now all we have to do is bear a burden?" He grinned over at John and looked back to the lamppost, brow furrowing only a little when he saw John Watson's rather stoic expression staring back at him from one of the pieces of paper. Oh, well, that was sobering.

"Oh be careful Sherlock, if you attack me with a flag pole, I will--- welll, I'll be in some trouble," He wasn't sure if he could outrun Sherlock and besides, he didn't want to risk much else. He was hungry, tired and his legs were getting cramped up from the ride. He always did hate using cars, too confined.

"Whats that?" Moving along, he leaned over and took a look at the poster. Oh was that Watson? Raising an eyebrow, he tried his best not to say anything damning about it and looked around the place instead. "This is all wrong, should it be so deserted?"

Sherlock had no reason to feel threatened by "the burden-" not yet, anyway. In fact, he was suddenly walking with a bit more confidence and spring in his step. Why, one could even say he felt younger!

When they returned to their car, the men found the following message on the dash:

Almost there, so do not choke
when your head's in the Big Smoke.
Chase the crown you wish to win;
Beware the ghost of Anne Boleyn!

[THE BURDEN: Sherlock is now regressing in age at a rapid rate. His memories and intelligence will remain, but will certainly falter under the physical limitations, needs, and fears of a child. Oh, and enjoy going through puberty backwards! At the end of 1 hour, he will be a newborn baby. Thankfully, the goal is not far...]

"Honestly? That's the clue?" Sherlock asked as he looked up from the dash to John, arching his brow. He laughed at the idea and slid back into the car, quite amused by the entire situation. "And not even a burden, isn't that funny?" He hadn't noticed the change in how youthful he was feeling, considering he was used to having surges of happy, peppy energy anytime he figured something out.

"London, then." He said, gesturing, pointing to the spot on the map. "Straight ahead, practically." He added in, smiling ridiculously. "We'll stop for funnel cake though, right? I mean, once we're almost to the Tower of London, we'll stop for funnel cake somewhere nearby." He sort of laughed, albeit a bit nervously. Like he was worried that they wouldn't get funnel cake. "It's quite good, you know, funnel cake."

"Tower of London it is," John remarked, spinning around and heading back towards the car, the sooner they got there, the sooner all of this would hopefully be over. Hey, if all went well, this might be his ticket out of here. Then he'd be free to move around once more, have a life, whatever else.

Turning his head to Sherlock, he offered him a small look of disbelief before fishing out the car keys. "Well, soon yes, but should we be more worried about Watson and Donna? I think so. Now, come on, we can get there and solve this all and then we can finally get funnel cake. Maybe we can even go home."

"I suppose," Sherlock murmured as he crossed his arms over his chest, frowning a bit. He itched at his arm, missing the nicotine patches that used to comfort him. That was... odd. He hadn't felt that need for... He scratched at his neck a bit, shaking his head and looking rather curiously to John.

"Have... No, funnel cake..." He frowned. That was a rather odd sentence. He was about to ask for... "Do you think we'd be able to find some coke?" Oh, dear. Now that was sort of embarrassing, considering he had stopped using so long ago, replacing it with nicotine patches. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked."

"Coke? ... I'm guessing you mean the soft drink?" Or he hoped beyond hope because no way were they going out to score some drugs. He liked Sherlock and all but he wasn't quite ready to help with all that. Frowning, he gave Sherlock a confused look. Perhaps the burden was to awaken lost cravings or something? He really hoped Sherlock wouldn't be going through withdrawals. He needed a guide.

"Err... tell you what, for safe reasons, can you pass me along the map please?" John requested, holding out his hand and smiling slightly, just in case he needed to keep it safe.

"Why?" He asked curiously, looking over to John with a frown, then back to the map in his hands. He looked back up, a rather moody look on his face. "Do you not trust me with it, is that it? Oh, I see how it is, let's not trust Sherlock, he's a ranting sociopath drug addict and he'll eat the map or some nonsense like that. Is that it? You just don't trust me."

He flung himself back against the seat, curling up into his moody ball, though there was something a little different this time around. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean that, you know... It's just hard. Here, take the stupid map." He grumbled, throwing it back over to John anyways and sitting back up straight in the chair.

These were mood swings beyond his normal ones, but had he noticed? Oh, no, his mind was too busy other places.

Blinking like a deer in the headlights, John had no idea why he was on the receiving end of a strop. If he was about to flip out and kill him then boy did he hope that he could get a headstart. Sherlock was a lot faster than him and stronger than him! Sighing, he reached down and snagged the map, setting it out straight on just across from him, careful not to get it in his way of anything vital.

"I never said I don't trust you, you know I do. I just know that you were meant to get a burden or something and your behaviour is... well, just a bit erratic than usual. I think its just best that I keep it safe."

Making a left, he traced the roads along with his finger, just to make sure he knew what he was doing. "Are you sure you're okay?"

After that, he was quiet for a few moments, just sitting there, his elbow propped up on the window and staring dully at the passing scenery, not looking all to pleased.

"Pull over!" Sherlock said suddenly, darting up from his seat and rather dramatically slapping the dashboard. "Pull over right now!" He demanded, looking over to John with wide eyes. "We have to stop!" It was clearly absolute.

Whatever had happened to Sherlock at the last pit stop had obviously changed him quite a bit. He wasn't exactly... different. But he was acting different and with Sherlock, acting different was... really notable, especially when he didn't seem to have any control over himself.

The sulking he could deal with, the dramatic slamming was significantly harder!

Swiftly pulling over by the edge of the curb, he gave Sherlock a look of shock and stared at Sherlock like he'd grown about three heads or something. What on Earth was wrong with him? Sometimes was obviously wrong. He just had no idea what.

"Sherlock, stay close to the car, whatever you do. Don't run off, we need to stay together," John warned, undoing his seat belt just in case. Sherlock wasn't exactly predictable right now.

Sherlock unsnapped his belt, but he didn't get out of the car. Instead, his eyes got a bit wider and he looked over to John, as if something rather serious had just happened. But, instead of beginning to talk, he lunged across the space between them, taking a tight hold of John's face and pressing their lips rather forcefully together.

"I'm sorry," he apologized almost right away, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "It's like I... I feel like I have to do this." Fancy way of saying hormones in his brain were sort of... launching him along this path. But he didn't know that. "And you already said you liked me..." He trailed off, voice cracking, before going at it again, determination pushing him forward.

Flailing wildly, John gasped for air and shoved Sherlock away with his palm to the other mans head. Because as much as he liked Sherlock, he never was fond of being jumped like that. This was bad. This was very very bad! Sherlock wasn't acting in control of his emotions and he was trying to get to the last check point. They didn't have time for this.

"Woah, woah, woah, Sherlock, calm down! You can't-- we can't-- you're not in your right mind! And besides, we have to go save Watson, remember? We can handle all this later just, no kissing. Not now, anyway," John attempted, swallowing hard. It wasn't like he hated it, it was just very bad timing. They were trying to save someone, for Rassilon sake.

"Lets just save all the crazy kissingness for later, yeah?"

"But I want it now!" Sherlock said rather stubbornly, his brow furrowing at the idea of poor Watson and poor John's friend being all alone, waiting for someone to come and save them. "Oh... Poor Watson." He murmured, his voice cracking again as he slunk away from John rather slowly, rather reluctantly.

He collapsed in the seat again and curled up into a tight little ball of sulky moodiness, burrowing his head beneath his arms and hiding underneath his coat. From beneath came his muffled voice. "Just don't bother acknowledging me then. I'll sit here. By myself. Alone. Because no one understands me."

John had to roll his eyes at that, not sure if Sherlock was being overly melodramatic to mock him or if he was really being this childish. It seemed utter madness. Sighing, he started off down the road again, unsure why Sherlock was suddenly so moody. It was unbelievably childish.

"Would you stop moping? You're being very immature, Sherlock," John lectured as sternly as he could, feeling a little weird for having to tell off Sherlock. Especially considering how mature he usually was!

Sherlock only curled up a bit tighter, pretending to ignore John, though it was clear that he could still hear him. What did he care, anyways? John was being so unfair and rude, it wasn't like it really mattered to him anyways, wasn't like John was important or anything. In fact, he kind of hated John. For being so mean, that was.

"Whatever." He grumbled from beneath his coat. It wasn't like it mattered, right? Right.

After a few minutes or so, though, he piped up, so quietly.

"What... What if it's too late? And Watson's already dead? It's all my fault."

"We still have time, we're gonna get 'em, no point in ever worrying really. I'm very good at this sort of thing, last minute rescues, its sort of like my profession," John bragged as he smiled reassuring at Sherlock, unsure why the biggest show off he knew was suddenly so worried. Well, at least he wasn't trying to make out any more!

That would of severely hindered his driving.

"Twenty minutes to Thirty-ish max. And we should be there, just need to take a few short cuts," Namely driving through a park as he was. Wellll, no one else was around, what did it hurt if he didn't bother with roads.

Edited 2010-11-19 21:19 (UTC)

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The Race: Checkpoint #2 [Windsor Castle]

Just to move us along so we don't take up a MILLION COMMENTS JEEZE.

I support this plan!

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