William Sherlock Scott Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thevictoriandetective) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2016-11-15 03:05 pm
thevictoriandetective) wrote in maskormenace2016-11-15 03:05 pm
001 Video
[There's some fumbling and muttered rude words, a flash of blue and gray. Finally it comes into focus, a tall, thin man--not as tall as he looks--gazing intensely into the screen. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that his dark curls are sticking to. His eyes dart back and forth rapidly, and his pallor suggests he's ill or at least feels ill. He's wearing a fitted white shirt under a tailored suit jacket. More likely the latter, though he looked like he didn't belong in Florida weather. He's in an alleyway, someplace quiet.]
Hello. My name is Sherlock Holmes.
[He's expecting some recognition or something. That arrogant tilt of his chin hides the utter bewilderment and flabbergastation that's whirling around in that mind. Oh yeah, he's dead confused and completely out of his element, figuratively and literally.]
Clearly this is some massive practical joke, no doubt financed by someone who hates me. Since that's a lot of people, I figured I would address as many as possible with this device. You can't expect me to believe I haven't just been kidnapped and dropped in this disgusting swamp and that some stupid newspaper has-been in search of his last chance at a proper story is waiting behind curtain number three to snap a picture of me making a fool of myself. Or a mad little experiment from our old friends at Baskerville. I really don't care, though admittedly, you've done an excellent job with the special effects, the cars...the science fiction. Theatrical. I applaud the spectacle.
However, it grows tiresome. This ruse is stupid, so you can stop this now, you can give up.
I also will need plane tickets back to London immediately, return my actual phone, and someone to remove this idiotic tattoo.
Don't make me call my brother.
Hello. My name is Sherlock Holmes.
[He's expecting some recognition or something. That arrogant tilt of his chin hides the utter bewilderment and flabbergastation that's whirling around in that mind. Oh yeah, he's dead confused and completely out of his element, figuratively and literally.]
Clearly this is some massive practical joke, no doubt financed by someone who hates me. Since that's a lot of people, I figured I would address as many as possible with this device. You can't expect me to believe I haven't just been kidnapped and dropped in this disgusting swamp and that some stupid newspaper has-been in search of his last chance at a proper story is waiting behind curtain number three to snap a picture of me making a fool of myself. Or a mad little experiment from our old friends at Baskerville. I really don't care, though admittedly, you've done an excellent job with the special effects, the cars...the science fiction. Theatrical. I applaud the spectacle.
However, it grows tiresome. This ruse is stupid, so you can stop this now, you can give up.
I also will need plane tickets back to London immediately, return my actual phone, and someone to remove this idiotic tattoo.
Don't make me call my brother.
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But this is madness, all of this. It's absurd!
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That means I have to accept the fact my own life was rudely torn from me. I'm supposed to be London, not here! And superpowers!?
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Why? Why has this happened?
[Video]
Because the Porter brought you here for whatever reason.