EDIT: This is for the review concerning a TSL that I can't remember if I mentioned in this chapter or the last (It's a long explanation...)
First of all, let me write this down because it came to my attention that I really should have edited most of those other chapters I posted on Monday. This was, again, brought up by LibraryCat9 because I contradicted myself on the Translucence blindness to the TSL factor I introduced. Let me explain this now so hopefully it will clear up a little bit.
Much like Helen Keller who was taught sign language by her instructor using her hand to mold Helen's over to get the letter and shape, this is how the Translucence are taught their TSL. The difference is, of course, that they can clearly hear the sounds which makes it significantly easier. Now that that is explained, let me attempt to explain how they learn in case that comes up later.
Most of the time TSL is taught to the educated Translucence, albeit rare in the society. Otherwise, this trait may be acquired by physically teaching. That being said, it is almost interesting to realize that the Monochrome/Iridescence society were the ones to create this system – not the Translucence themselves. This was because the Translucence didn't see the need but the normal crowed found it difficult to convey conversations with them when they spoke so softly.
Translucent parents rarely teach their offspring this skill unless they actually know this language very well or have the patience to slowly perfect it. Neither is the case half the time depending on lifestyle and culture.
In the case of Lucille, Toby, and Seth, if you remember correctly they are orphans. I originally planned to mention their past in some filler to explain things, but while I'm at this whole information spiel, I might as well clear it up now. They are orphans but their parents, prior to being assassinated by the Violent Vicinity, were actually mediocre in status compared to the usual Translucence party. That being said, they didn't live in the Grime Zones then and had more or less a place to live in. Their parents were able to have someone teach their children TSL because they found it a useful skill in case they were in trouble or wanted to prosper in life, granted this did cause the Violent Vicinity to notice them and led to the tragic result.
So, to sum this up, TSL is a language that Translucence who are uneducated – a good portion of the percentage – don't understand and those who were lucky to learn are able to convey. If there is confusion as to why John knows this language, think of it as ASL or the like. You learn it in case you need it but just enough to get the basics.
God that was longer than expected. I apologize a lot. I hope this answers your question LibraryCat9.
P.S. If you have questions about the concepts in my story, expect these long explanations. I try to make it easier to understand with more words, if that makes any sense at all.
A/N: Last chapter for tonight guys. I'm exhausted. Talked to my girlfriend and then did homework and all this stuff. I'm so tired. I have to paint I think... four art pieces by next week and I'm meticulous and a infamous perfectionist. Two are requests, two are art projects. Fun times.
I get to bring back the little girl I brought in once! Finally! I had to think this one over and you will see why I suppose when you read it. Send John home or something else? It was like the whole morality vs curiosity theme in this.
But yes, enjoy it. I can't upload anymore and I'm passing out on my keyboard as we speak.
As a fun note that nobody will probably not read, is there anybody who would like to help me beta this? I would search one up but I'm far too busy with classes and an education. Ugh... as they say, "The Junior year counts the most!"
Read/review/follow/fav. Enjoy the chapter, dears.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
Chapter 13: Picturesque
Before I entered the cab, I peered around. I didn't know what I was looking for – or hoping to not see – but an urge had gripped me to perform a surrounding scan before entering the cab. It was a gut feeling and they normally were right, despite my luck proving to be the opposing force. This one felt increasingly important even though the area certainly didn't feel like it.
Dark buildings, dimly-lit windows, and empty sidewalks greeted my view for a second or two. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was as it should be, in that sense of complete compliance and a little bit of boredom. Dull greys and other colors flashed before my eyes like a long movie with no plot or action to change it. The usual. The orthodox. Nothing abnormal.
Boredom wanted to scream into my skull like a ricocheting bullet, but I refrained from doing so with a grim smile. That is what Sherlock would do, wouldn't he? He would say that all of this was boring and rather unimportant to the case at hand. While I would probably agree to his statement, that feeling still pushed me to look forward, past the darks that were subtly different, almost unchanging.
That was when I spotted it. Ah, actually, that was when I spotted her. Although her white hair was hidden under a makeshift beret and she seemed dirtier, it was unmistakably Lucille Faye. The girl from a few days ago.
Was it a few days ago or was it weeks? With all this chasing and hiding, it seemed like months had passed by in a blink of an eye when in reality it had only been a few minutes! Perhaps it was my new life with Sherlock, one that will never be boring as long as I am with the man who abhors it most.
Tangents, John.
I felt Sherlock pull on my sleeve but I shooed him away, squinting at the small Translucent girl. She wasn't hard to see since she was a stark contrast to the dark and musty alleyway she resided in. I didn't know how she could see me, or even how she knew I was looking at her, but almost instantaneously she began motioning me to follow her. When I didn't move, she gave me probably one of the most distressed faces ever before trying to sign something.
I wasn't fluent in sign language, TSL (Translucent Sign Language) even less so, but I knew the basic alphabet in both. One word stood out for me: urgent.
Flashes and sirens went off in my head. Exhilarated John that was chasing detectives was pushed back to reveal Doctor John who saved lives when they needed it most. Sherlock's complains and the cabbie's grumbles and pleas were drowned out as I attempted to read her quick fingers. This was definitely more important than a simple cab home. It might as well involve someone's life that I could recover.
Her fingers verified it.
Urgent. Help. Injured. Vicinity.
She didn't need the medical attention, but somebody else did who was probably a good friend of hers. Either way, I was being wasted here as an ear for Sherlock's rants. She needed me and the twinges of annoyance that followed made me almost curse. I didn't have my medical bag with me but that didn't stop me from breaking into a sprint. Once I was a few meters from Lucille, she pivoted and began running, always glancing behind her shoulder every so often to be sure I was following her.
Alleys twisted and turned, darks greys became blacks with brief spurts of white light from the few lanterns. Trash littered every wall and more than I few times I could feel something break under my foot whether glass or some other substance I didn't care to clarify. It wasn't until I saw the gate that stood possibly five meters high that I knew where we were heading. It was very distinct and anybody would be able to locate it from far away.
The Grime Zones.
They were as the name implies. The zone where trash and the poor accumulate and prosper. Where those who can't pay mortgage or rent of their flat end up eventually. Where the homeless visit frequently or stay at as their home. I only know this from the few times the hospital sends me here to check on the health of the inhabitants. These people were often susceptible to the most common of illnesses. Disease was like a wild fire here and if one spark got out, a plague would begin.
Many people reside here and as my pace slowed to a brisk walk, I could tell the Discoloured from the Translucent to the Sombres. This area was like a melting pot of the color scheme. Oddly enough, I saw a few Iridescence couples here and those were one of the saddest sights to see. Even though they are happy with their mate and life, they still are not allowed to live at the life they fully deserve as a human being.
But these were the grime zones. I didn't know if it was more depressing that they actually had a place to hold all of the homeless and poor or that they all used to harbor along the shadows of buildings and the ink of the alleys.
Lucille patted my arm and I blinked, looking at her. She was pointing at one of the many little huts adorning the walls of the Grime Zone. Small huts that looked no more than simple adobe buildings with a piece of cardboard as a door. A few were caved in but most were in okay condition, only protesting when those placed pressure on their walls.
Ducking my head in the doorway, Lucille knelt in front of a boy that was perhaps a few years older than she was. Beside him was another boy, definitely the second oldest of the trio. Judging from their few traits that their Translucent parents passed, I guessed they must have been siblings. He was one of the most concerned of the group.
But not the one with the most injuries. That would be the oldest. It didn't take rocket science to see this young man was inflicted physically and not by disease. That, was at least one little ray of sunshine in this otherwise grim situation. If something as painful as tuberculosis grasped him, I would be able to do nothing but to try and make him as comfortable as possible.
His chest and arms were lacerated with what appeared to be whips. His fingers and most of his right arm was scorched with third degree burns. A cut above his left eyebrow was bleeding profusely and I didn't see him responding to the pain. No doubt he fell unconscious and his body needed the time to recover from the shock. Not dead, just not conscious.
"D-doctor…" the girl stuttered, shaking as she pointed to her comrade.
Getting on my knees, I saw the boy and sighed. I didn't have half the supplies I needed. Hell, I didn't have any of the supplies I needed and there was little to use here as improvisation.
I was about to question anything to write on when both of the children stiffened. They peered fearfully at some shadow in the doorway. When I looked up, I glared at the shadow who stood awkwardly in the doorway.
"If you are going to scare the children, Sherlock, at least be courteous and tell them your name. That was uncalled for."
"Oh, like how you deserted me at the cab," Sherlock retorted, kneeling next to me. The children scooted away a little but I stopped them.
"He's a friend," I told them softly and pointed to Sherlock. "Don't worry about him. He isn't here to hurt you and if he was, I would protect you. Don't fret." The two children relaxed a little bit, though they still watched the man with a mixture of fear and confusion. Sherlock didn't say anything to deter their fear either, much to my dismay. Things would go so much easier if he would actually lower the tension in this room.
I continued the examination of the boy's injured form, creases forming after each marking. The Violent Vicinity was definitely at this young man. It wasn't the worst case I have set my eyes on, but it wasn't the simple ones either. I needed supplies. With where they are living and residing in now, I wouldn't be surprised if the wounds he sustained are infected.
"Sherlock." He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine steadily. "Do you have a pen? I need it for a second if you do." Reaching into one of his pockets, he mutely handed me a pen. I fumbled my fingers around my pocket and beamed when I found a piece of paper, not curious what was on it.
Ripping a corner out of it, I stuffed the rest back in my pocket. I used my knee as a writing surface as I quickly wrote something down and handed it to Lucille. She flinched a little, her blindness not picking it up quick enough but soon enough she grabbed it and rubbed her fingers over it. Her brows creased a little in confusion.
"What do you wish for me to do, Dr. Watson?" She looked up at me and I couldn't help but to offer a grim smile I knew she wouldn't see.
"I need you to take that to the hospital you went to see me. Do you remember where that is?" She nodded slowly. "Good. Go there and ask the nice receptionist to see Sarah Sawyer. When you see her, hand her this note and she will definitely give you some supplies or will accompany you back to me."
I helped her up and when she found her way to the door I called out to her, "Lucille?"
She turned, determination showing in her otherwise sightless eyes, "Yes?"
I smiled, "Run. It gets you places faster."
Nodding, she was off. I looked at the door for a moment longer before sighing. The younger boy kept looking at Sherlock like he was confused. I suppose this would be a good time to ask what happened.
"What happened to this boy, if you don't mind me asking?" I gently prodded the boy and he shivered.
"Big brother saw the Violent Vicinity coming our way from the entrance of the Grime Zones. He hid us but he couldn't hide himself with us. He wasn't fast enough. The Violent Vicinity came up to him and pushed him. They were growling and calling him all these names and accusing him of things he never did. Then… Then…" Tears began to spill over the child's eyes and I hushed him.
"He got hurt, yes?" I finished and the boy nodded. "Can you tell me what the man who hurt him was like? This is, assuming it is a man?"
"It was a man. I could hear the voice. Not a kid. I don't know anything else except his aura was weird. It was different from what I have ever deciphered."
My eyes narrowed and I felt Sherlock stiffen a little beside me, "What was it like?"
"It wasn't fully Violent. It wasn't at all. It was only a little bit. It kept getting mixed with monochrome auras. I didn't know what he was and it scared me."
"Not fully monochrome, but not of Violent Vicinity origins? Why does that sound familiar?" I thought as I gently removed some of the clothing on the eldest boy.
I paused, well-aware of who else fit this but wasn't of Violent Vicinity type. Removing my hands, I looked at the boy steadily, "If I had asked you to compare the aura to mine or Sherlock's, who would you choose?"
The boy hesitated before signing in TSL the name. I guess he didn't trust Sherlock, though I had no doubt in my mind that Sherlock probably knew TSL as well. Twisting and rotating his wrist and fingers, I easily read what he was trying to spell.
"Sherlock."