[John steps into the building, naturally. He's not Sherlock. He can't just live in anarchy when it pleases him to. At least whatever Xochipilli is, it has enough structure to have given him a note. Not that he believes a word of it. Magic? That was rubbish if John had ever heard it. Sounding like a madman certainly wasn't one of his top priorities, so he'd keep that politely out of the conversation as requested. Still, he's pocketed the bizarre blue magazine clip he'd found in the box with his other effects. It seemed... wrong to leave it.
His first move is to dial Sherlock's number once he's worked out the phone. He's expecting to get a voicemail, but the operator's voice informs him the number isn't in service. Harry's number isn't, either. Nor are Bill's, Mike's, or Lestrade's. Desperate, he tries phoning New Scotland Yard directly. There's no record of Lestrade, Donovan, or even Anderson.
Well. Right, then. Whoever put this together is really trying to convince him he's been transported to a different universe. It's certainly beginning to feel like it. He puts the phone away and pulls out his notebook and a pen before approaching the nearest person.]
Hi, sorry. Afraid I'm a bit new. D'you know who Mr. Jackson Rau is?
OPEN
His first move is to dial Sherlock's number once he's worked out the phone. He's expecting to get a voicemail, but the operator's voice informs him the number isn't in service. Harry's number isn't, either. Nor are Bill's, Mike's, or Lestrade's. Desperate, he tries phoning New Scotland Yard directly. There's no record of Lestrade, Donovan, or even Anderson.
Well. Right, then. Whoever put this together is really trying to convince him he's been transported to a different universe. It's certainly beginning to feel like it. He puts the phone away and pulls out his notebook and a pen before approaching the nearest person.]
Hi, sorry. Afraid I'm a bit new. D'you know who Mr. Jackson Rau is?