Hit the lights!

[nickidevine.livejournal.com]

Who: Nicki and Sherlock! Or anyone else that comes by.
What: Play time 8D
Where: 2nd floor common area
When: Day two, night
Status: In Progress
Warnings: Nope!

Both Eric and that odd man in the journal had told him that there were more people in the house. More people, and blood, more actors. Once Nikki had decided it was safe, he poked his head out of his door, and looked into the quiet common room in awe. It was bright, and happy. Huge and warm. Other doors along the hall were marked like his was, and he took a mental note of his door number. This would be perfect. Exactly what he needed.

Cut to a hour later, and he was almost done a very crude, small stage in the room. The curtains were made out of bedsheets (As was his cape), string and other things held the stage together, which was made out of random things. Mostly wood from his fireplace, and a big pile of books laid strewn next to it. 200 years worth of playwrights he’d sucked in. He would stop to play his violin here and there, loud and crazy enough to wake the dead. Or a very moody detective.

He was still in the same clothes. Messy white frilly shirt, leggings and boots to his knees. His hair looking as crazy as he was, half tied in a black ribbon that was loosing the battle. A crown made out of tinfoil, which he thought was an amazing substance.  His cheeks, though, were flush. He’d tracked down blood from the Medical Ward (And stolen a few rolls of gauze to put parts of his stage together)

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[i-never-guess.livejournal.com]

Sherlock was still sulking after his lost competition against John earlier that day, laying in his bed with the covers pulled high over his head. He was only glad that whoever that roommate of his was had disappeared (he hadn't bothered checking his journal for any messages) and left the room all to himself. It wasn't that he really liked to be alone... He normally hated it, in fact, even if the person wasn't exactly brilliant, it still was enjoyable to at least have someone to talk to. Or talk at.

With a sigh, he rolled over in his bed, irritably pulling the covers over his head when... What on earth. He bolted up from beneath the covers, looking wildly about at the infernal racket, eyes immediately darting to his own violin, sitting very neatly in its spot where he had left it. He frowned and grabbed it, stumbling out of bed and into the hallway, clutching his bow in one hand and the body in the other, walking about in his bathrobe, t-shirt and boxer shorts.

As he entered the common room, he ignored the oddity of it all, situated his own violin and began to play. He had a similar method of playing random notes, stringing them together as if he were trying to play a song but really didn't know which one to pick.

[nickidevine.livejournal.com]

Nicki just dropped whatever he was doing or planned on doing, and in a blurry flash he was over by the new boy, smiling brightly and giving a silent laugh. He did the same, trying to match Sherlock while he tried to match him, making up some random insane song. Classical and crazy, Mozart would have been proud (If the bastard hadn’t stolen some of his music)
He bounced around while he played, smiling wildly when Sherlock made a note that he thought was brilliant. Ah, it was starting to feel like his theater again

[i-never-guess.livejournal.com]

Sherlock ran his bow up and along the chords, hitting the strings in a sort of mad, swift unison before plucking at them more like a guitar and then hitting it back again with the bow, as if rushing through all the notes he wanted to play. He was watching Nikki with a tiny smile on his lips, amused. And, quite as suddenly as he had appeared with his bow and violin, he cut the music off abruptly and dropped his bow down to his side.

"It's nice to meet you in person."

[nickidevine.livejournal.com]

Nicki played a few more notes, high and long, then with the bow and violin in either hand, held the boys shoulders lightly and kissed either cheek “Tres bien! I’m Nicki, it is nice to meet you, you play wonderfully” He knew the voice right away, and he was glad the boy was no long trapped in his journal. That had worried him. He flitted to the other side of the room in a blink to put his violin away, and flitted right back

[i-never-guess.livejournal.com]

Sherlock would be immensely amused to hear that Nikki thought that he was trapped inside of his journal, had he not already deduced that this strange being was certainly suffering from several mental illnesses, none of which he could truly put his finger on at this very moment (mostly for the fact that he was, unfortunately, not a doctor by any means - he was wishing Watson could be here for this now).

"Thank you, you play wonderfully as well." He murmured, though he wasn't sure if his opinion exactly counted, considering he enjoying strumming randomly to get the brain working.

[nickidevine.livejournal.com]

Nicki looked over the Sherlock’s clothes “When are you from?” he’d managed, through talking to people, that they were all through time. The house itself was time. “I’ve never seen those manner of clothes” he examined him alittle, sniffing randomly at the air, to see if he picked up anything he knew “I’ve found so many different times here. Isn’t it wonderful? Although some of beings here are highly rude. One called Tom kicked me” His face made a scowl “I was just trying to help”

[i-never-guess.livejournal.com]

"I'm from the 2000s, actually." Sherlock said, straightening out his clothing and glancing to Nicki with an arched brow as the other inspected him. He didn't bother with pointing out it wasn't normal and that the other might want to avoid such behaviors if he wanted people to be nicer and kinder to him, but what was the point? He knew it would only launch a far too long debate and discussion and so on and so forth. "You'll get used to it." Was all he said.

[nickidevine.livejournal.com]

"I do suppose. I just dont like the close minded, and I dont know what Aides are or why he thinks I have them" Nicki tsked alittle, and tried to mimic him, straightning out his mess of an outfit "Im from...Well it was 17 something, I know that. I lost count after a while. What days really matter, anways? I have enough to go around"

[i-never-guess.livejournal.com]

"Dates are generally immensely important, to me." Sherlock reprimanded him quietly, his brow furrowing a bit. Though he wasn't exactly one to be calling someone else out on not knowing the correct date, considering he wasn't even aware of how the solar system worked. Something about the sun and the moon and the Earth, but he wasn't going to bother his mind with trying to think of such idiotic things. "You just have to learn to live with them, most people around here are intolerable."