|Sherlock Holmes (deducingyou) wrote in marinasylum,|
@ 2011-07-10 01:05:00
|Entry tags:||:action, kisame hoshigaki, sherlock holmes|
[ Action | Closed ]
[ It was getting dark when Sherlock left the coffee shop, and by the time he'd pushed through Sector Five's clothing shop (atrocious task, and of course nothing has sleeves) the hour was growing late. He was about to give up and just head back to the Shelter when a hard wave of vertigo sent him snatching at the racks and going down. Oh.
For a moment, he had sat among a swathe of brightly colored shirts, ringed by a metal trolly that held them up. He did not panic; did not think much at all, in fact, beyond the way the room swam, until he suddenly could. The inevitable was happening. His body was failing him. There was a brief debate as to whether or not he could possibly make it to the shelter before his motor skills began to fail him, all the while clambering out of the mess while the world stood still. Thoughts after that were fogged and unimportant.
What's important is that, for better or for worse, he's laid up on the bench of one of the fitting rooms. He's tall, so his torso fits and the rest spills off. Somewhat on his side, eyes shut, dead to the world. Patches - practically pale enough to blend in with his skin - line the underside of the visible arm. His instincts had the good sense to shut the door behind him to afford him some privacy. He didn't lock it, though. ]