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17th September

Cutthroat Acting

Before I begin, I just have to say, Sherlock Holmes is an… Read More

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17th September

Cutthroat Acting

Before I begin, I just have to say, Sherlock Holmes is an egotistical, self-righteous, arrogant, self-centred idiot. Honestly. Bragging about his acting skills literally moments before sending me to… Sorry, sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m assuming you all saw the news story. If not then I thank ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ for keeping it under wraps. This one is a bit humiliating:

It was a normal caseless day, and it was terribly dreary outside. Sherlock was acting like a toddler, which wasn’t improving my mood in any way. I ignored him, but it was just making it worse, so I went out to get milk, because it seemed like we were always out the next day I bought any.

He texted me a few times in the cab asking where I was, but I ignored it. (You can’t say he’s not persistent.) When I was in the supermarket, there was, of course, no milk. I headed back to the entrance, when I saw these two blokes in line. They looked normal, but they were doing a hand-off. I knew it was probably nothing but then they just walked out with their bags without paying. They went right past me, and I followed them out into the parking lot then confronted them.

Later, I was treating my wounds in 221b as Sherlock shouted at Greg in the living room to find the guys who had, “Mangled me beyond reason.”  After that, Greg got a description of the men from me. He told Sherlock to stay in the flat as he left, but of course he had to follow, and drag me along with him.

What we actually ended up doing was going to the store and Sherlock bribing the manager to let us see the security tapes to see if they had been here before, and if the handoff was regular. It turned out that it was, and they had been handing off there for a couple months. The manager commented with something along the lines of, ‘Those blokes look like a couple of my old employees.’ Or something like that. Anyway, Sherlock ignored him. I thought it was important, but apparently I was wrong. I assumed he saved away the information for later, cos he often does things like that, then stormed out.

While we were in the cab, Sherlock was busy in his Mind Palace. It really is incredible watching him find and sort things out. Remind me to write it up one day, or film it maybe.

Anyway, he struck gold right as the cab got to a park in the middle of London and began speaking to himself (or me, I’m still not sure) faster than he does when he’s deducting someone. We wandered around for a bit. It seemed like it was aimless and it was bleeding muggy, and I was drenched.

After what seemed like forever we got to… a pub. A pub! I was beyond irritated. When we went in I learned that it wasn’t only a pub, but a dinner theatre. Sherlock (surprisingly) wasn’t annoyed by the singing buffoons on the stage, and went right over to the bar. He ordered, in a very cryptic manner, a, “Blue-necked piston on the rocks.” We watched the performance while his ‘drink’ was coming, and it was not half bad. One actor caught my eye particularly. (His name was Eddie Spell, as I later learned.) He was certainly the best of the lot. Anyway, off topic again.

The ‘drink’ came, and it was just a regular pint with a note under it. He quickly read it, then we snuck behind the stage to wait for the actors. We had to wait there for an hour before the actors finally came back. As soon as some came in, I recognized them as the blokes from the supermarket. They recognized me too, but as soon as they got a good look at Sherlock, they ran out. We chased them to the back exit, but the actor I saw earlier stepped in front of us, letting the men get away. Sherlock was not happy. The actor introduced himself as Eddie Spell, and he was a huge fan. Neither of us were in the mood for a fanboy, so we excused ourselves, (I excused us.) and left. I was tired and hungry, so I went back to the flat, leaving Sherlock on his own. I don’t know what he did. I’ll ask him to fill it in on The Science of Deduction website later.

In the morning I woke up to Sherlock still gone, so I went down to ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓. Greg hadn’t seen him, and neither had anyone else. I texted him but he didn’t answer. I, as a last resort, went to ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓. He said that Sherlock had asked for security footage around 3 AM but otherwise hadn’t seen him. I was properly ticked by that time, so actually called his mobile. He told me that he had gotten lost after he got in a fight, and he thought he had a concussion. He gave me his location and I rushed over there. He was in a horrid state… Bleeding, bruised, and he did have a concussion. He insisted that he was fine, but I dragged him home anyway much to his protest. It was a small concussion, but I wasn’t going to tell him. We stayed home that day, which he despised.

The next day, he was up too early, and woke me up when he got up. He dragged me down to ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ and we got there half an hour before they even opened. He picked the lock and broke into ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓. I don’t know why I followed him now that I think about it. We went in and got ourselves into Greg’s office. Sherlock accessed his computer and searched something in the records. Sherlock still hasn’t told me what it was that he searched, so I apologize I can’t include that… Plus, I don’t think ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ would be too happy if I did.

Anyway, once Sherlock had gotten what he came for, we left (without locking the door again, may I add) and headed back to the dinner theatre. We took a route that had us there in 10 minutes this time, and, I swear, I almost attacked Sherlock. We went in and the actors were all there. Including the Supermarket Guys. They welcomed Sherlock, and we went in, him feeling right at home and me feeling like a sock in the dryer. A confused sock. When he sat down, like five people came and sat down with us, including Eddie Spell. They all began talking at once and he kept up with them pretty well and he seeming like he was enjoying himself. I got into a conversation with Eddie about the Aluminium Crutch case and the details, and I was enjoying myself. He was a nice bloke… He was a bit on the feminine side –not gay, mind you- just a bit feminine. I didn’t mind.

When a tall, rather bulky man came in, everyone –including Sherlock- immediately sat in their own seats and sat respectfully, keeping their eyes on him. I did the same. The man walked slowly to the bar, looking over everyone as he did. He lingered on me for a bit before speaking. He talked royally about ‘his theatre’ and ‘his journey’. Everyone clapped at his intervals, some people less than others. It seemed like a religion almost, and I was mixed up in it. He went onto the stage, and said, “For the end game.” Everyone else repeated it, but Sherlock looked confused… something that rarely happens. The man exited the stage and the actors continued their chat. Sherlock got up and went over to Eddie and asked about the ‘end game’ thing. He suddenly got very nervous and asked why Sherlock didn’t know. He abruptly stood, and walked backstage. I followed, only to see him looking at the man, afraid. Like he was afraid the man would strike him. The man was speaking to him sternly, the words recognizable but the way he used them quite the opposite. When the man was done scolding Sherlock, he turned and walked away, leaving Sherlock like he was about to cry. (Did I say this was humiliating? I meant for Sherlock.) He walked back over to me, and dragged me out of the theatre grumpily. We walked to the other side of the park and sat at a bus stop. I asked him what that was all about, and he said that when he was young after Mycroft left the house for school, he wandered the city, and came upon that place. He said that they welcomed him, and taught him how to act. He went there for years, apparently, but now it was under new leadership and it was like a cult. He was really disappointed. He said that we would have to do more investigating, but that he wasn’t welcome. There was some silence as he was planning. He then began bragging about how good he was at acting, and various other things that were too numerous to name. Then he suddenly said, “But you’ll have to do.”

Twenty-four hours, some rough acting lessons, and a basic course on lying later, I found myself auditioning for the group. I was given a strange script, and a strange character, and shoved on the stage without any practice. I thought I did horribly –never having been able to act in my life- but apparently the ‘judges’ thought otherwise. As I exited the stage, Eddie gave me a thumbs-up. I was sent away without any feedback, and of course, Sherlock wanted to know every last thing. I told him what I could and he seemed satisfied, so I went to bed.

We didn’t hear anything from anybody for a few days, and it was driving Sherlock up the wall. He was worse off than he had been the first day. Four days after the audition, Eddie showed up at the flat. He came in and told me I had a secondary audition in twelve hours. It being 14:13, I was sceptical. I asked him about the time and he just shrugged. I thanked him and he left without another word. When the downstairs door closed, Sherlock jumped up and did his stupid happy dance.

At 2 O’ clock in the morning, I headed out to the theatre. Sherlock followed me discreetly, in disguise. I got there, and found it deserted, but the door unlocked. I went in, despite my knowledge of horror films, and how stupid it was to do so. Inside it was pitch black, and my suspicion skyrocketed. Before I knew it, I was out.

I was woken up, and a bag ripped off my head. There wasn’t much light, so I was thankful for that. But what I wasn’t thankful for, was the dried blood on my temple, and the fact that my hands were tied behind my back, and that I was in a rather painful chair. There were a few candles in the room, but not enough for me to see past a few feet. I was able to make out a few figures, but I pretty much already knew what was going on. The bulky man from the first day stepped up and began rambling on a ‘brotherhood’ and the ‘promises’ and ‘consequences’ of said ‘brotherhood’.  I agreed, just for the sake of the case. He seemed pleased and had my hands untied, then gave me a gigantic, glass goblet. He said to ‘drink the blood of the brothers’ and I took a gulp. It was just wine.

After that, they freed me and cleaned up the blood, then turned the lights on. It was a rather large mansion. I was stunned, and they all welcomed me excitedly. Apparently I am a brilliant actor. There was somewhat of a celebration, then I was sent home.

I retold everything to Sherlock, and he was a little offended at how nicely they treated me. I told him that they did seem a little shady and he seemed to feel better.

The next day -or later that day I guess it would be- I got a call from Eddie, telling me to go see him at a café. I happily agreed, eager to ask some questions. When I got there, he was dressed like someone who was trying to not be seen… trench coat and all. I went over to him, and he –being extremely cautious- told me about a secret weapons thing that the ‘brotherhood’ ran, supplying weapons to different countries in exchange for information, people, and other things that were highly illegal. I was blown away. He continued, telling me that they had different stations set up all over▓▓▓▓▓▓▓, ▓▓▓▓▓, ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓, and ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓. I asked him why he was telling me, and he said that it was because he hated doing what he was told, but you couldn’t back out. He said they only accepted actors cos they had to play different people to do the exchanges. I thanked him profusely, then told him I was ‘undercover’ with the police. He seemed beyond relieved, but then he paled. He was worried I would turn him in. I told him Sherlock and I would take care of it. He thanked me again then we split, me going back to the flat. I relayed everything to Sherlock, and he phoned ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ immediately, but no-one answered. We took matters into our own hands and got our weapons, heading down again.

When we got there, a show was on. Sherlock ordered his, ‘drink’ and when the note came he wrote a question and sent it back. I looked around, being wary of the two men who had fought me earlier that week, who were looking at me bitterly. Sherlock flipped them off behind me as his reply came. He read it and he led me to the back again. I heard someone shouting, and Sherlock did too. We followed the noise, then when we heard a gunshot, we ran. We opened the last door to a dead Eddie, surrounded by four men, all of whom I recognized from that morning, with one of them holding the gun. They looked up at us murderously. They accused me of ‘betraying’ them. Sherlock defended me whole-heartedly and then threw their crimes back at them. They were proud of what they were doing, saying they were supporting the allies in the war in ▓▓▓▓▓ and ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓. I laughed, and they pointed their weapons at me. I told them that the people they were trading with weren’t the allies, and they said that they were their allies. Apparently Sherlock had enough, because he ordered them to shut up and phoned ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ again. This time he answered, and was on his way after a short exchange. One of the men –the youngest by the looks of him- was shaking, and tried to shoot me. Sherlock shouted at him, and the young man broke down in tears, insisting that he didn’t know what was going on. We ignored him and Sherlock began demanding where the boss was. None of them talked. I’m not going to go into detail about the… interrogation. But what I will say is that when ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ got there, the floor was much less clean and none of them were conscious, and we had a location. We explained the situation, and the DI gave us permission to continue, and even said he would come with us.

We found our way to the mansion, and with the help of a warrant, we were able to enter without trouble. The maid took us to the study, where the boss was cleaning a pistol. He tried to hide it as we entered, and failed miserably. ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ arrested him, using the confession from Eddie as grounds.

After that was done, we were back at the dinner theatre arresting the actors. Before one of the officers could take the two men who had beat me up, Sherlock got hold of them. Let’s just say they needed an ambulance instead of squad car.

We went to Eddie’s funeral even though we barely knew him and I found someone -with Sherlock’s help- to re-start the dinner theatre and it’s running successfully now with no secret weapon dealership.

Sherlock still tells me I’m good at acting.

9 Comments

…There are too many mistakes in that post for me to mention. You got the story completely wrong!

Sherlock Holmes 17 September 6:04

Then you write it up, Sherlock!

John Watson 17 September 9:16

Eddie sounds like a nice young man. I would have liked to meet him.

Mrs Hudson 19 September 17:31

I think you would have, Mrs Hudson.

John Watson 19 September 17:46

Do you *watch* the blog for comment announcements?

Sherlock Holmes 19 September 18:05

Do *you*?

John Watson 19 September 18:34

I’m disappointed, Johnny-boy. This one was unbearably boring!

Anonymous 29 September 2:13

You two are so cute together!!! <3<3

Harry Watson 1 October 14:14

Lay off, Harry.

John Watson 1 October 15:14