(no subject)

[greymatter]

Who| Dr. Grey and Sherlock Holmes [Closed]
What| Sherlock confronts Grey about killing Katurian.
Where| District 2 suites
When| Backdated, just after Grey dies in arena 05 and returns to the Capitol.
Warnings/Notes| None yet!

He would find Aunamee in due time. Aunamee who had died. Aunamee who he had killed. Even with his powers unrestricted. Grey can't seem to wipe the grin from his face as he takes the elevator up to the district 2 suites. He would find Aunamee in due time. But now? It was time to catch some sleep in a warm bed. He never did like cold weather.

As the elevator meets his floor and the doors slide open, he steps out.

Comments

[alldeduction]

Sherlock was considerably alert when Grey entered, though he was facing away from him and shifting on his jacket (the only one he could be deigned to wear out of the terrible selection gifted by his stylist) as he stood by the window. He didn't recognize the footfalls - not John, Danny or Blaine, then - and turned to see who it was.

And froze.

They hadn't met, of course, but Sherlock knew who Grey was. Sherlock never forgot a murder.

Let alone one he had witnessed.

He narrowed his eyes. Sucked in a breath.

"Grey." He didn't bother with the 'Doctor' prefix. The name he'd gotten out of the repeats of Katurian's death on the televisions.

[greymatter]

The scientist pauses on his way across the suite, looking at Sherlock coldly. The lack of prefix is not lost on him. "I didn't realize we were so familiar." He says icily. It takes him a moment to recognize the other man.

Yes, the one Katurian had attempted to warn away. The one that pitiful coward had broken their little 'alliance' for. "Can't say I'm familiar with your name." He says, with an unpleasant smile. So the man was in his 'district'. How interesting.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock's lips turned up in an approximation of a smile, but the ice cold eyes dissolved any warmth that it might have held.

"Celebrity breed familiarity," Sherlock says smoothly, though for him it was rarely true. At least back home. Here he keeps a much closer eye on the television.

He considers being petulant, not giving his name at all, but instead he just watches Grey for a moment before broadening the cold smile on his lips. "Sherlock Holmes. We've met. Well. Nearly."

[greymatter]

"Nearly." He echoes, and his eyebrows raise a bit at the name. After all, in his world, this man is fictional. But he isn't the first fictional person or being he's seen here. "Did you have something to say to me or am I free to retire to my room?" He asks dryly. If the arena was any indication, Sherlock and Katurian were, at the very least, friendly acquaintances. He wonders if this was going to cause a problem.