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[He considers his detective friend for a moment before reaching to rest a hand on his shoulder.] Is there anything I can do? [He can probably guess why he's in his gloomy gray mood, so he'll skip on the asking what's wrong part.]

[The hand on his shoulder does very little. If anything, it makes him a bit resentful, because it's not the hand he wants to have on his shoulder. That's incredibly unfair towards Naruhodou, but a spiral of negativity is nothing if not unreasonable.]

No... There's nothing anyone can do... It is what it is and any attempt to change it is impossible. That's what makes it so very difficult to handle... I may as well give up and die...

[He frowns.] . . .I'm sorry, but I don't think giving up and dying is the solution.

How would you know? Have you ever died before, Mr. Naruhodou? ... I can't imagine it's any more dreadful than this... [siiiiigh...]

No, but I know someone who nearly did. [There was some bitterness in that tone. The subject of dying was a sore subject for him, considering what he had been led to believe these last two years. He sighs, getting up and walking off somewhere for a moment.

Music suddenly starts to fill the room from an old record player somewhere. The next thing he does is come back and firmly take Holmes' hand.] Come on, get up already.

[Someone who nearly did? Was it that hunchbacked fellow with the moustache? Honestly, Holmes can't be bothered to think too hard about the implication. Nearly isn't actually dead.

What is that music...? Why is his hand being grabbed? ...Oh.]

No, I don't- [He breaks off with something of a dry, high-pitched crack of the voice. Ahem.] ... Don't feel like it.

I've been practicing! [He gives him another tug.] I want to show you my progress, and I can't do that alone.

No... Mr. Naruhodou, I...

[He used to dance with Mikotoba all the time. He knows that he did- it's a fact- but he can't quite... recall... Ugh now he's thinking about it even more! The fog in the room intensifies and the music begins to warp in a sad, twisted noise.]

Still have people here! [The hand holding onto Holmes' was trembling.] I'm sorry...I'm sorry that I'm not the person you wish was here, but...I'm still your friend. [He squeezes his hand.] And, I believe you'll see him again someday. Do you really want him to see you wallowing around like this?

[A little voice in the back of Sherlock's head is cynical enough to insist that Mikotoba won't see him wallowing like this, because Mikotoba hasn't seen him for over a decade already and vice versa. Still... What Naruhodou is saying- isn't that the same sort of thing Mikotoba would've said to him? And yet, he's apologizing that he's not Mikotoba. Isn't that just wrong?

He scrunches his eyes shut for a moment, then pushes himself to his feet. His fingers curl around Naruhodou's hand. Even when he finally speaks, his gaze is on the floor.]

... I apologize for causing you concern, my friend. It's just... so very difficult. So much time has passed that my memories appear to have slipped right out of the dusty attic which is my brain. I know that he was real- all the facts have remained. His hair was black and he liked to smoothe it back, yet some locks would spring upwards despite his efforts and it frustrated him. He had dark eyes like yours and the most magnificent, warming smile. It was a smile I could feel in here [He presses a hand against his chest.] and so, I began to try my hardest to make him laugh.

I know all these things. And yet... [For a few seconds, there's a literally chilling silence, as the temperature drops and the lights flicker once more.] When I close my eyes and attempt to see him, nothing comes to mind anymore. There is only darkness. The image is gone...

[He listens to him talk without interruption, rubbing the detective's hand with his thumb. He could feel their genuine partnership in his words alone. His chest tightens at the very thought of forgetting his own best friend. Two years without Asougi, believing Asougi had been dead and to suddenly have him show up and forget him, that was pretty rough as it is. He can only imagine how much worse it feels for Holmes who hasn't seen Mikotoba for even longer.

The silence holds for a moment before Naruhodou speaks up, but then stops. He could offer him his memories of Mikotoba, but then he remembers where they were and thought of something else.] I. . .have an idea. Are you well enough to walk with me?

[An idea... In a place like this, where strong emotions are better off restrained, lest they destroy something or hurt someone? Is it wise to tickle sleeping lions? Surely not. Then again, the lion is not exactly sleeping. Sherlock is proving as much without any say in the matter, for the fog is still swirling along the floor and the music from the other room continues to sound unnatural. It's so very cold that he can't help but tremble, his breath rising before him in a white cloud.]

... Walk where?

The. . .[He bites his bottom lip.] the tree of memories. [Would he want those memories though? He's worried it would only make things worse, but forgetting his own partner would also be just as bad.]

I don't know... [He draws in a deep breath, shaking his head.] I've considered those methods. The tree petals, those mirrors which were present during the celebration of lost loved ones... They would become a very easy solution, though I fear that they may double as an entirely different problem. Dwelling on what once was distracts from what will be, you see. The times I spent with my friend are in the past and so, I suppose... that's where they ought to remain.

[Not remembering is for the best, isn't it? Even if he feels hollow and guilty because he can't visualize his best friend anymore, at least it means he'll miss Mikotoba a whole lot less.]

I just wish... I could've seen him before I returned here, the way he is now. Even if it'd been nothing more than a glimpse, it might've been enough.

. . .I don't think it has to be that way. Wouldn't having the memory of his appearance at least give you something to look forward to in the future? [He looks at him reassuringly.]

If you want. . .I did see Professor Mikotoba before I left Japan.

[Looking forward to something when one doesn't know how far away that future is... The way Holmes sees it, that's a bit of torture in its own right. Besides, he can't be certain that he'll ever see Mikotoba again. Perhaps, when he returns home, he'll find that Gregson isn't the only one who was murdered. Even if it was only as an assistant to Watson, Mikotoba was involved in the Professor case as well.]

... In Japan? [Right... Of course he would've, because Naruhodou is close to both of Mikotoba's Japan-based kids. When those two kids traveled to England, Naruhodou traveled with them as well. There was a trial before that as well, wasn't there?] That was... How many years ago was that?

Um. . .well that's a little tricky. [He scratches his cheek thoughtfully.] Almost three years, if you count our time here in Empatheias. Not including that, probably close to a year ago.

A year... That's quite recent, isn't it? If it was only a year, then the Mikotoba you left behind in Japan and the Mikotoba awaiting me in England... Why, they would be almost the same person!

[Somehow, despite all odds, the notion stirs excitement. The fog begins to disperse, moving to the sides of the room and then clambering up the wall as it vanishes.]

[The fog lessening was a good sign. Though he knows it's only a small consolation of the real thing, he's glad that something could at least help his friend. He nods.] That is likely the case. Would you like me to share that memory then?

[Would he? It's a daunting notion, for even if it's more of a 'now' memory, it could still have Sherlock hung up on the past. Still, it's his best friend. Shouldn't he at least try?]

I believe that... Yes. Yes, let's do it! Let's have a glimpse at it!

...Right. [With a nod, he directs him to the couch where they could sit down properly. He also needed a moment to think of a memory. He didn't have many with him, but one of them had to stand out strongly to him. And so he ends up sharing the memory of their first meeting, up until the point he was summoned into the courtroom.]

[Sherlock wanders over to the couch as directed and sits. Then, he waits, his eyes closed. The apprehension is strong enough to have the coffee table before him quiver as if it were being subjected to an earthquake, despite the rest of the room being quite still.

And then the memory hits. Telepathy never does stop being an impressive tool, for it's almost as if he's standing right there in an unfamiliar room of an unfamiliar country, face to face with his old friend. By the time the memory draws to a close, there's a distinct tightness in Sherlock's chest and his eyes are prickling.]

It's him... It's really... He looks so...

[OOP, here comes the frustration! A crack shoots up one of the walls.]

--Happy! He looks so happy! Without me!!! [He lunges forward, grabbing Naruhodou's shoulders with both hands.] Has he got a new partner, Mr. Naruhodou?! Have I been replaced?! Is he out solving mysteries with someone else now?!

Eh? [Everything was so calm and then suddenly that burst frustration from Holmes. It gave Naruhodou quite a start.]

I-I don't think so? He's been working as a professor at my university! [He thinks about that memory again, confused. Did he really look that happy? Considering what the trial was about?]

[Sherlock draws in a deep sniff.]

He could be a professor and an investigative partner at the same time. He did just fine when he was juggling our cases with his exchange student duties, after all. Certainly, he would go some nights without sleep, yet he'd managed all the same. Did he appear exhausted to you, Mr. Naruhodou? Was he carrying bags beneath his eyes?

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