fandomhigh | Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part I

It might have been the start of the fall semester, but it was definitely still summer in Fandom. The sun was shining and the temperature was already starting to get high, even as the NPC crew set things up for the day.

Luckily, the school knew how to take care of folks on days like today. Beneath the blue and gold streamers and balloons, tables had been set up with cold drinks and food, and an entire section devoted to offering up different ~~moddable~~ ice cream flavors. As always, there was a stack of nametags set down next two signs: one listing the Big Sibling/Little Sibling pairings, and one listing rooms and roommates for the new students.

With everything set up and the crew out of the way, it was time for the picnic to begin!

[~~Please wait for OCD!~~ The OCD is up! This is part one of the picnic, specifically for meeting siblings, roommates, and teachers. The rest of the picnic is happening here and here, in an effort to keep browsers from breaking for as long as possible. Since it's outside, the picnic is open to all students, teachers, and townies!]

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It was a big hand, with calluses in odd places and paint stains in evidence, and a very firm grip. "It's a thing we have here, to help the new teachers adjust to the school's, ah. Peculiarities. And to teaching, too, sometimes--many of our teachers have never taught before they get here. I hadn't."

"Peculiarities?" Well, that worked well to get Sherlock's focus elsewhere."

"Fandom Island is...unique," Steve said. "More or less." Manhattan was probably almost as varied, at least in his universe. "Not everyone here is from the same, say, time period. Or planet."

Sherlock leaned into his personal space like it didn't exist, checking to see if the man's pupils were dilated. Because every possibility needed to be checked. "And just what is the timeline here?"

Steve wasn't that bothered. He'd lived with multiple forms of mad scientist, after all, and he went ahead and let Sherlock peer at him. (His pupils were not, in fact, dilated. Steve couldn't get high on any substance readily available to humans.) "It's August 28, 2010," he said.

One last look to confirm and Sherlock pulled away and got his phone out to start typing into. "Only a few months off then. Interesting."

"Months?" Steve asked carefully. "When is it for you?" Obviously not a Victorian. Steve didn't have that kind of facility with the damn cell phone keys; no newly transported Victorian could, he figured.

"March of 2010," Sherlock replied, hitting send and closing the mobile. "You're not a doctor, but you'll do for now."

Steve didn't follow, so he asked, "Do you need a doctor? We have a clinic in town. Sometimes it's staffed by students, but I think there are at least a few actual medical personnel involved."

And he was tall. Not all that John-like.

"Where is your mobile?"

They called them cell phones in America, but whatever. "In my pocket?"

"Hand it over." There was a please somewhere in there.

Okay, so there wasn't.

"No," Steve said easily. He'd known two different Tony Starks. He was immune to rudeness, at this point. Possibly he found it familiar and reassuring.

"How else would I get in touch with my 'teaching buddy'?"

Really, Steve. Do be kind to the poor, lost Englishman.

"Well, you sure won't be able to if you have my phone," Steve pointed out.

Sherlock shot him a look. "I'll be returning it."

Steve sighed and handed it over, figuring resistance was futile. Besides, the phone was SHIELD-issued. He wasn't sure anyone other than him could even open the damn thing.

Snatching it out of his hand, Sherlock entered his number and then texted his own mobile from it.

And possibly looked over the messages.

"You're very patient."

"Thanks?" Steve said. "I think?" Could he have his phone back...?

"You might want to tell your friend that he missed his anniversary and his sladkaya won't be too pleased," Sherlock said, offering the phone back.

Steve wasn't sure if there had been some sort of crisis or if Bucky just forgot, but somehow that didn't surprise him to hear. "I'll let him know," he said agreeably as he took it back. "Hopefully she won't kill him."

He meant that.

"At least you have a suspect," Sherlock replied with a faint smile at the prospect.

Look, he was an odd little man.

"You have nothing to do with MI-6, correct?" CIA was right out. Though he was almost certain this man wasn't knowingly in his brother's over-sized pocket, questions still needed to be asked.

"No," Steve said, which was true, as far as it went. He had had, in times past, a bit to do with MI-13, and he couldn't avoid SHIELD if he tried, but MI-6, not so much. "Why, do you?"