Who: Micah What: Operation Luau Where: The edge of an active volcano in the Hawaiian islands. Deserted. When: During the time plot Warnings: None
Minutes 1-5 He’d been helping a friend of the wine merchant’s (someone who had fallen ill), and he’d been glad for the distraction from Iris and the confused mess his mind was whenever he thought of her. Then, a blinding headache, and he’d disappeared as he’d fallen to his knees from the pain.
It was hot, and Micah knew the feel of island under his feet. For a moment, he felt a nostalgic homesickness that was almost as overpowering as the blinding headache which was quickly receding. The volcano made angry noises just ahead of him.
Great; they’d moved again.
Logical deduction, my boy.
He set out to find the others.
Minutes 5-15 The volcano was far enough behind him that he couldn’t see it past the trees when he turned, but he could hear it, and he could feel it rumbling under his feet. He wasn’t sure if Revolutionary France was better or worse than an island that was ready to explode. He needed to find Iris.
Why don’t you leave her to Holmes? You can’t force love, my boy.
Holmes. No, Eliot. Eliot wasn’t ever around. Iris fell apart, and he wasn’t there to pick her up. He needed help, and Eliot was never there to give it. What the fuck was so special about Eliot? Nada.
He was sweating now, dirty from tree branches and mud underfoot. He couldn’t hear anyone, couldn’t see any one. What if he was alone? What if that edificio maldito had sent him away?
He kept walking.
Minutes 15-30 Desperation, and he was alone. He'd walked all the way to the edge of the water, and he hadn’t seen anyone. He crouched down at the shore, the wave splashing against his feet, and he splashed water over his face. The volcano at his back rumbled louder and louder, and he held his head in his hands.
My boy, if you don’t mind some advice from an old man who has lived and loved much longer than you? You cannot let yourself be wound up in woman who is not free to be yours. When you get home, travel. Go home and deal with your demons. Then, if you still want her, win her like a man, my boy, and not like a child who cannot have what he wants.
Micah hated Watson sometimes.
He began yelling, hoping someone would hear.
Minutes 30-45 A half hour, and he’d screamed so loud and so long that he’d lost his voice.
Find shelter, my boy.
He wove together a canopy with palm fronds, and he suspended it between two trunks. It had given him something to do, something to think about. Something that wasn’t dying on this jodio island alone. Micah wasn’t good at being alone. He was about villages and neighbors and families and warm women with their limbs entwined with his.
As he rested his head back against the tree trunk, he prayed to his Orishas, and he promised he’d make them an ofrenda if he got home.
Minute 45-1 hour "Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre, venga tu reyno, hagase tu voluntad, asì en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano, Y perdónanos nuestras deudas, asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores. Y no nos metas en tentación, mas líbranos de mal."
It will be fine, my boy, Watson said once Micah was done with the prayer. It will be fine.
1 hour and 1 minute The wine shop again, and another blinding headache. The room wasn’t the one he was in previously, and he was grateful for that. He could hear the others above his head, and he realized he was in the cellars. He could hear Iris.
"Gracias, Diosito." This said while falling to his knees and making the sign of the cross against his forehead and chest.
We really must do something about you. This isn’t the least bit healthy.
1 hour and 15 minutes He took the stairs up from the cellar two at a time, and he called out to the others as he moved. "We moving out yet?" he asked, all as if nothing had ever happened. He flirted with the wine merchant's daughter, and he clapped the wine merchant on the back, and everything was just like it always was.
He was just like he always was.
Watson, in his mind, just sighed and wondered how he could pen a note to Irene and Holmes about this nonsense. A talk with Moriarty wouldn't be remiss either.