'Rehabilitate' is probably overstepping it. He found life as a civilian painfully monotonous and intensely unsatisfying because he had been conditioned for war. His therapist was an idiot that failed to realise his PTSD and depression didn't stem from his experiences, but from the jarring contradiction of living ones life in a constant state of adrenaline versus the inherent complacency of civilian life. In short, he went from one extreme to the other and was essentially expected to 'keep calm and carry on' despite being predisposed to working under intense and violent conditions.
To understand how I helped him, you should know that I was a consulting detective. My job took me down several different avenues, many of which were dangerous and oftentimes life threatening. Through solving crimes and blogging about our cases, he found a way of retaining normalcy that coincided brilliantly with his need for adrenaline. Years of chasing down errant criminals ultimately offered him enough time to begin actively adjusting to the prospect of being back home.
If you're looking for ways in which to acclimate to life in Little Hades (which is obviously the case: why else would you ask, if you didn't have something to gain?), then I'm afraid I have little to offer you. My only suggestion is that you team up with an acquaintance and engage in some thrill-seeking behaviour with the hope that it will even out the sensation of consistent restlessness.
[ Sherlock briefly takes the time to search through Takasugi's posting history - it's a quick scan, a vague attempt at trying to use the clues he'd unwittingly dropped across the entirety of the network in search for a more in-depth profile he can draw from.
That's what I'm saying.
Obviously, yes. Having an in-house doctor is especially useful when you lack any prospect of self-preservation. It's also incredibly important to have someone who understands the intricacies of the human body nearby, just in case we discover an attempted murder out on the field, not to mention he's already accustomed to seeing dead bodies and won't faint at the sight of blood.
Essentially, I'm capable of solving a murder but John Watson is capable of saving a life.
[John may be a soldier, but he's no doctor, and his projections end as soon as Sherlock speaks of 'saving a life' -- bandage a man and follow correct procedure for a concussion though he may be able to do, but having something so fragile in his hands simply means he'll ruin it]
I see.
And you? Does chasing around murderers assuage your own need for an adrenaline high?
Oh, the thrill of the chase is certainly part of it, there's no denying that. But there's nothing quite like an elaborate crime scene with mismatching evidence, meticulously arranged and primed like a masterpiece begging to be pulled apart and reconfigured into workable pieces of data.
[ Being lead on a wild goose chase as the killer selects random pieces to leave behind, whether relevant or not, all in the name of being caught.
Just waiting for someone brilliant enough to come along and follow the trail they leave out, bloodied and morbid and perfectly positioned to lead off into a thousand tiny little leads, all more puzzling than the last. It's a whispered promise between killer and detective, the game of cat and mouse overarching and dragging him forwards on tender hooks as he works against the clock to find his murderous Monet. Oh, it's Christmas, and it's something he misses more than he'll ever admit. ]
[it's a language he doesn't understand at first -- Takasugi is an intelligent man, but his chosen field of study isn't data, evidence, extrapolation, and he's no genius by birth]
[the words need some ruminating on before he targets what Sherlock is actually saying, summed down into a simple word:]
A challenge.
[because isn't that what men of this nature are always after?]
John is interested in survival. You're interested in being pushed.
permaprivate; and now, a wall of tl;dr that will probably be separated into like 20 different texts
To understand how I helped him, you should know that I was a consulting detective. My job took me down several different avenues, many of which were dangerous and oftentimes life threatening. Through solving crimes and blogging about our cases, he found a way of retaining normalcy that coincided brilliantly with his need for adrenaline. Years of chasing down errant criminals ultimately offered him enough time to begin actively adjusting to the prospect of being back home.
If you're looking for ways in which to acclimate to life in Little Hades (which is obviously the case: why else would you ask, if you didn't have something to gain?), then I'm afraid I have little to offer you. My only suggestion is that you team up with an acquaintance and engage in some thrill-seeking behaviour with the hope that it will even out the sensation of consistent restlessness.
no subject
[well sherlock is only partially correct about his motivations, at least]
Get a friend and cause mischief. That's what you're saying?
Does a consulting detective have much use for a soldier? This seems like a one-sided relationship.
no subject
That's what I'm saying.
Obviously, yes. Having an in-house doctor is especially useful when you lack any prospect of self-preservation. It's also incredibly important to have someone who understands the intricacies of the human body nearby, just in case we discover an attempted murder out on the field, not to mention he's already accustomed to seeing dead bodies and won't faint at the sight of blood.
Essentially, I'm capable of solving a murder but John Watson is capable of saving a life.
no subject
[John may be a soldier, but he's no doctor, and his projections end as soon as Sherlock speaks of 'saving a life' -- bandage a man and follow correct procedure for a concussion though he may be able to do, but having something so fragile in his hands simply means he'll ruin it]
I see.
And you? Does chasing around murderers assuage your own need for an adrenaline high?
no subject
[ Being lead on a wild goose chase as the killer selects random pieces to leave behind, whether relevant or not, all in the name of being caught.
Just waiting for someone brilliant enough to come along and follow the trail they leave out, bloodied and morbid and perfectly positioned to lead off into a thousand tiny little leads, all more puzzling than the last. It's a whispered promise between killer and detective, the game of cat and mouse overarching and dragging him forwards on tender hooks as he works against the clock to find his murderous Monet. Oh, it's Christmas, and it's something he misses more than he'll ever admit. ]
no subject
[the words need some ruminating on before he targets what Sherlock is actually saying, summed down into a simple word:]
A challenge.
[because isn't that what men of this nature are always after?]
John is interested in survival. You're interested in being pushed.