IMDB flu

[mightbeagoodone]

No cloak of levitation, no Eye of Agamotto, no sling ring, not so much as a magical text to be found...

Dr. Stephen Strange is very puzzled about why he is not in Greenwich Village, and who -- or what -- might have sent him here.

At least the room where he woke up (a bit sniffly and headachy) provided him with a very good coat.

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

Jim wanders downstairs in search of something to eat, because he fully intends to stock up on food that is nothing to do with fish before heading back to the yacht. He has the vague notion he may be getting a cold, in a distant kind of way, but it's not enough to make him ignore his hunger.

'Hello,' he says, as he yawns and slides onto the stool next to Sherlock.

'What're you looking so confused about?'

Wearing a coat after a month in the Caribbean? Well, anyone would find that weird, probably.

[mightbeagoodone]

Stephen glances at the man, but answers him cordially. "I've been to several dimensions but I've never seen one like this. So mundane and yet so ..." He gestures to the Observation window.

"And yesterday I had a beard." Small, on the scale of things, but still puzzling. He hasn't been clean-shaven for over a year.

[just_cant_lose]

'What?'

Jim stretches his arms up, and then back over his head, yawning again and making various tendons pop in a satisfying way.

'You really didn't. Have you ordered breakfast yet?'

Different dimensions. Something's occurring, obviously. Jim just needs to wake up properly to deal with it.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Promise I did."

Today, he also has an American accent.

"No, no breakfast yet. I've been--" He gestures to the window again.

And this time he notices his hands.


His hands.

[just_cant_lose]

Okay, so this a Thing, then. Jim drops into a relaxed slouch, and turns towards him so he can check him over. Sherlock's hair, yep. Sherlock's coat, which can only have come out of the suite, yep yep. He's willing to bet that if he pulled his collar aside, there'd be evidence of teeth marks from a few days ago, and also a tattoo on his chest.

He quirks a tiny smile, and then looks Very Serious.

'Promise you didn't. But okay. What's your name?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Dr. Stephen Strange," Stephen replies absently, utterly fascinated by his slim, strong, unscarred hands.

It takes him a moment or two to say, "And what's yours?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Stephen Strange.'

Wow. Really? Jim is aware of this name, but knows next to nothing about him. His brothers read comic books when they were kids. Jim tried a few when he was about four, and thought they were stupid.

'I'm James Moriarty. Do you want a coffee?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Sure, thank you." Then, "Wait, just --" He holds up his hands.

"How do these look to you?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Beautiful.'

He's not even kidding, though he does look a tad sarcastic for the sake of the poor bloke Sherlock thinks he is right now.

'More beautiful when they're touching me, but whatever. I would saaaaaaay-'

He pretends to scrutinise, like every last millimetre of these hands aren't already committed to memory.

'-you're a violinist. And a fighter, when needs be. Bar, two coffees please.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Stephen looks nonplussed.

He lowers his hands to the table. "I was in a car accident two years ago. They were crushed. Seven procedures later, I could barely write my own name."

He pauses, studying Jim, and says, "So, here, do I touch you often?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Constantly. All day, every day. You're never not touching me.'

Jim wants a cigarette. Never mind it's been a year since he smoked. Bah. He resists the urge, and holds his left hand up, jerking the back of his wedding ring to draw attention to it.

'We're married. But it doesn't matter, you won't remember. Do you think this is just another dimension, where there's a different version of you?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"It must be," Stephen says, calm despite what is probably improbable to the man before him. "There are multiple dimensions, multiple universes, alternative realities that exist alongside each other, entirely unaware of each other's existence."

He turns the matching ring on his own finger.

"Yet I feel like me."

He smiles a bit. "So, my husband named James, how long have we been married? Not long, I'd say."

[just_cant_lose]

'Not long, no. Just over a month.'

Ooh, it still feels nice to say. Jim grins, and leans on his elbow so he can face 'Stephen'. That accent is weird. He much prefers Sherlock the way he usually sounds.

'I like it when you call me James, too. Try it in a British accent.'

He'll address the dimension issues in a moment. This is more important.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric has been practising with the flute and comes down to the bar in search of refreshment. He glances over to him and blinks, seeing double for a moment - both Sherlock and Stephen Strange. His eyes turn gold as he shakes his head to clear his vision. "Oh dear."

[mightbeagoodone]

Stephen notices the youth, and nods in response. "Hello."

[thewidewideworld]

"Hello." Sinric blinks away the gold, ordering himself some tea. "Forgive me, I mistook you for a friend of mine. You have very similar faces."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Does that happen often here? People showing up with--similar faces?"

[thewidewideworld]

"More often than you'd imagine. Usually it doesn't trouble me. I'm quite good at reading people but I think I must be coming down with something."

[mightbeagoodone]

"It seems to be going around." He has a handkerchief handy, himself, as well as a tall glass of orange juice and some soup. Normally he wouldn't go for folk remedies, but it was the only thing that appealed.

"I may have borrowed your friend's coat. I suppose that would only worsen the confusion.

"Dr. Stephen Strange. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier."

[thewidewideworld]

"Indeed it would seem so." Sinric nods.

"I am Sinric, known as Sinric the Wanderer." He gestures to the soup. "May I join you?"

[mightbeagoodone]

"Please do, if you don't mind possibly being exposed to flu symptoms."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric chuckles and orders a stew of dark venison. "I fear it may already be too late for me."

"May I ask what happened to your hands?" Sinric can see the scars, even if Sherlock doesn't carry them. His sight is quite hard to control right now.

[mightbeagoodone]

Stephen looks down at his hands, which are not scarred, but--

Well, the universe is ending outside the window; a youth who can see through dimensions is not the strangest thing he's seen today.

"Car accident," he says. "My hands were crushed."

[thewidewideworld]

"I'm sorry. That must have been hard to bear. Such a violent redirection of your path." Sinric blinks and shake his head. "Forgive me, my sight is... making things difficult today."

[mightbeagoodone]

"Your sight?" Instant concern. "Is your vision blurry, or are you seeing double?"