finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[ a train—finally—pulls into the station. ]

[And the station is bustling.

Perhaps not as bustling as the crowds that Waterdeep houses, but a London railway station is nothing to scoff at. It's a grey and smog-filled day, as it often is. The open-air, arched ceiling of the station lets in silver shafts of light which fall upon the dampened ground — last night was one of heavy rain.

Either way, should a certain someone disembark, another certain someone is surely waiting for them amid this crowd. Somewhere.

Right?]

[ probably!

dozens upon dozens of men and women embarking, disembarking. a woman steps down, clad in striking plummy skirts and embroidered coat; a small blonde carries her briefcase and wears a riding skirt. another woman dressed in a pale sunny skirt which would easily stain, a nun, a woman in widow's weeds. some move with confidence to their next car, or to leave into the greater London area, and others hesitate. look for their loved ones to greet them.

there is no tiefling. ]

[Heavens, no, one doesn't expect to see a tiefling, per se. Imagine the panic that would bring, to spy someone touting a devil's horns and tail amid a crowd of oblivious Victorians. It would incite a panic.

Which would admittedly make said tiefling easier to find, but perhaps not the ideal outcome.

No, if there is a detective in the throng of this crowd, seeking someone out, he is seeking out more than just "looks like a tiefling." He is looking for particulars: a certain height, a certain gait. Mannerisms that he would recognize. The awed look, perhaps, of someone not in a world of their own, but trying to pretend otherwise.

Anything like that?]

[ a detecting detective might, perhaps, note that the nun walks with a hesitant, uneven gait. the woman hauling the briefcase is looking for someone, her gaze darting around the station while she tries to hold everything in her arms. the woman in the golden skirt has stopped moving and stands amid the crowd, face lifted towards the grey sky while the crowd moves about her. ]

[Hmm HMMMMMM

A certain detective chooses to approach the woman in the golden skirt!

However, a certain detective is also in disguise (bottom, Mrs. Minicle), hunched over like a (rather tall) old woman, curled wig and all, little old ladies' patchwork gown, thick glasses, and a weathered, wrinkly smile courtesy of plenty of stage make-up.

Creaky-voice:] Why, hello dearie! Might you spare a minute for an old lady?

[ the woman, far younger, jumps. looks—up, instinctively, and when she speaks, it's with great reluctance, because her heart is pounding. ]

I am busy at this moment. My apologies.

[The "little" old lady leans in, squinting through her thick glasses. A moment passes, one of assessment and... something else, before her face cracks into a grin once more.]

Ohh, I see, I see. Freshly disembarked and seeking someone, are you? First time in London? Maybe I can help you look, dearie. [Pointing to her, again, very thick glasses.] I've the vision of an eagle!

Is that so? [ with a heavy accent and dark hair piled up at her nape in a manner not quite befitting the times, she supposes it would be obvious that she isn't from London. this polluted, dreary, drizzling, incredible place. ] And what did you need?

[A thousand little tells, perhaps, that maybe most wouldn't see. But the little old lady chuckles airily and replies with a wave of her hand, gesturing nearby, where a large wooden suitcase sits mere feet away.]

Just a lovely walking companion—and a strong, vigorous one, too!—to carry my luggage and walk me to my hansom along the street. It's so difficult with this old back of mine. You don't mind, do you?

[ strong? vigorous? it's true, but she dressed as demurely as she could and yet still feel comfortable. ]

Ah...

[MAYBE HE CAN SEE THOSE GUNS THROUGH YOUR SLEEVES

The woman adjusts her glasses by the rim.]

Hmm?

... Well. Perhaps yes. [ she scans the bustling station once more, feels her heart ache, and smiles blandly ] I am having no one else to walk with.

[Clasps her hands together, delighted.]

That's not true. You have me now, and I'm told that I keep quite good company, ohoho~. And I did say I would help you look! Now-

[Shuffles over to her suitcase, and makes a show of hefting up it, wobbly-like, with two hands by its handle so that this nice woman can help carry it for her.]

-who are we looking for, again? Describe them to me.

[ she gazes at her for a few moments, smiles thinly, takes the suitcase. it's true; she hefts it with little trouble. ]

My husband. We have been apart for very long time.

Edited 2024-10-02 15:11 (UTC)

[No trouble at all! What a very strong woman.

"Mrs. Minicle" gives a light chuckle and adjusts her spectacles again, looking out among the crowd. No one pays either of them any heed, too caught up in their own forward-marching schedules to spare attention to anything else. Just another typical day in this city.]

Oh, your husband! Then I can't imagine how eager you must be. Is he short? Tall? A gentleman? Working class? Dark-haired or pale?

You want to hear woman swoon? [ she laughs, sort of ] He is tall and pale, and slender, with beautiful smile. Good-for-nothing rapscallion. I am told he is not romantically-inclined man. No, he is renowned detective, and that is all that is holding his eye before me, and all that will be holding his eye after me, as well. Perhaps I have been so long in my arrival that he has forgotten there was ever any other.

[Mrs. Minicle listens, smiling all the while. She doesn't seem to have a reply immediately after, as though turning this description over in her mind as they try to wend through the crowd — taking it slow to look for this rather interesting specimen she's just described.]

He sounds like quite a fellow. A renowned detective... Oh, I think I've heard tell of one of those scrambling about now and again. Or read something in the paper? A very handsome fellow, perhaps...

[Trails off, considering, then-]

But such a lovely woman like yourself? Romantic or otherwise, how can you not be a constant in his mind with each passing day? Hm? Surely a great, consulting detective is no fool, and misses you dearly.

You are thinking so?

[ maybe. maybe. and maybe he would think differently, if he knew why she was so long coming. the thought it nearly laughable—Herlock has been so considerate of her from the very beginning—but London is so overwhelmingly different and unfamiliar that Sprezzatura's logic has muddied. gone to reconvene elsewhere.

she starts to cross the street towards the hansom with a bag—the old woman's and her own bag—beneath each arm. ]

I did not get your name.

[The driver of the hansom, an older fellow with a greying beard, seems a jovial sort. Once they both near, he smiles congenially at them both, tipping his hat.

Mrs. Minicle just titters an assured laugh in reply.]

Oh, I'm certain of it. This city offers so much, it's easy to get lost within the flow, even the humdrum... But! That means the people truly precious to us are what add color to the grey and the drab; all the more missed when they have been departed for so long.

[The reach the cab.]

Anyhow, dearie, my name is Mrs—

[The cab driver, oblivious to all else, interrupts amusedly.]

"Mr Sholmes! What in heaven's name are you wearing? Leave as a detective, come back looking like a withered old mam, what are you on about? Is this one of your... ah, cases?"

[hrk]

[MRS MINICLE LAUGHS LOUDLY AND REPLIES QUICKLY, PUSHING UP HER GLASSES-]

O-oh, is the great consulting detective Herlock Sholmes here?! We must ask for an autograph posthaste, I hear they go for at least three hundred pounds apiece on the, err, black market!

[ WELL! a shocked glance at the driver becomes a far keener, assessing stare aimed directly at this "little" old lady. her heart is a drum in her throat, painful and fast ]

I am sorry. [ doesn't sound sorry ] With your driver interrupting, I did not catch your name.

[Gesticulates wildly.]

M-Mrs Minicle! That's my name, dear, I'm merely an elderly woman who lives in Middlesex! I collect tea cups and Bibles! I have three cats and a boa constrictor! And-

"Mrs Minicle? The one you said was too tall to pull off as a proper old lady? You giving it another spin for improvement or something—"

[SPEAKS LOUDER-] -I AM, INDEED, YOUR BELOVED HUSBAND HERLOCK SHOLMES COME TO SURPRISE YOU UPON YOUR ARRIVAL TO LONDON.

descends

akjsf that was fast

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