IC Inbox

[lightconductor]

If you have a message for me, Dr. John Watson, please leave it here. I shall certainly get back to you as soon as I can.
- JW

Comments

evening of the 11th, can be backdated if necessary

[stairwellshadow]

[ Late in the evening, a piece of black paper is slid under Watson's door. There's no words or signature on it, but there is a crude drawing of a gallows and several blanks in a row: ]



[ Perhaps it's time to play a game. ]

[lightconductor]

[Well, this is peculiar. Watson squints at the puzzle for a moment, debating whether to play along or fling the door open at once. Ultimately he goes hunting for a pen, writes an E on the note, and slides it back.]

[stairwellshadow]

[ The paper returns with a 'head' drawn under the gallows. ]

[lightconductor]

[Huh. Watson writes an "A" on the sheet and slides it back.]

I don't supposed I might know to whom I owe the pleasure?

[stairwellshadow]

[ And then underneath the puzzle is a little carefully printed note: ]

you can just call me a prior dreamer.

[lightconductor]

[Watson writes a T and slides it back.]

Well, Mr. or Ms. Dreamer, is there a prize or penalty to this game that I ought to know about?

[stairwellshadow]

[ A body is added to the hangman. ]

the prize is a clue.
the penalty is your soul.

[lightconductor]

[Oh. Oh, that's. Tempting. He writes an I and slides it back.]

You realise, of course, that our host may have prior claim on my soul.

[stairwellshadow]

the captain can't interfere with us any longer.

[lightconductor]

[An O. Get the vowels out of the way.]

That's quite the bold claim that you're making.

[stairwellshadow]

if it wasn't true, we would have been silenced before we ever got to talk with you.

[lightconductor]

[An N.]

And what happens if you claim my soul, then?

[stairwellshadow]

i get to do whatever i want with it.

[lightconductor]

[He frowns for a moment, and takes a chance on a W.]

And what would you do with a soul?

[stairwellshadow]

[ Sorry, Watson! ]

i'd finally have what i want instead of having to play pretend.

[lightconductor]

[S, then.]

And you could do that with someone else's soul, then?

[stairwellshadow]

i could, i think.
i have to try to get my family back.

[lightconductor]

Depending on the situation, there may be better ways to achieve that than bargaining for souls.

[He stares at it for a moment, and writes "prodigal son" on the paper.]

How's that, then?

[stairwellshadow]

congratulations.
you got your clue then.
and you'll have your family, too.
i hope you'll be happy.

[lightconductor]

That's my clue? Or is there more to it than that? Is that who you are?

[He slides the paper back, and cautiously moves to get his revolver from the drawer where he's left it.]

[stairwellshadow]

that's who you should look for.
before he disobeys you again.

[lightconductor]

[That's... alarming. And it doesn't lead in a direction he wants to think about. Abruptly, Watson flings the door open, gun in hand.]

[firewalled]

[Rich is standing outside.

Or at least, it looks like Rich. He seems dazed, his hair mussed like he was just sleeping. There's a pen on the floor beside him, and in his hands, a knife.]

Hello, Dad. You seem upset.

[lightconductor]

[He lowers the gun. It's maybe not Rich, but it looks like Rich, and that's enough that he can't bring himself to point a firearm directly at him.]

We've been worried about you, lad.

[firewalled]

You have? I would have thought you would be angry... The detective's decided I'm dangerous, right?

[He's sure all of the truth he had tried to hide is uncovered by now. There's no point in playing coy.]