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ethereal_fauna



Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Posts: 2567
Location: USA

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 4:25 am    Post subject:  

D-Lotus wrote: Anyway, Sheerluck holmes chapter 3 is started, and I will continue writing today, for those of you who care! :D
i dont really CARE but i do look forward to reading the next chapter. :P
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D-Lotus



Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 3:50 pm    Post subject:  

Not that anyone cares, but here's the next chapter.

Chapter 3


After a brief disscussion, Bob persuaded me, and my endeavoring friend Holmes to stay in the shop longer, if it were only to search for more clues upon which to continue our investigation. Holmes, with a weary smile at me and Bob, resumed the questioning of the queer shop tender.

"I gather, Mr. Penney, that you would naturally remember what kind of hat it was that our lady purchased on her departure from your store, being as I know you a very proffesional man of your field?"

"As far as I could tell, it was a double premium super soft leather gentleman's top hat."

"May I see the receipt?" said Holmes.

"I am under the impression that she threw the receipt into the waste basket." said the small man.

Holmes digged through the garbage until, with a shout of complacent joy he emerged from the ground with a crumpled piece of paper. He read it with interest, and with a sign of satisfaction, stored it in his coat pocket.

"Whichston, I think I may have an impotant clue in this. Quick, call a cabbie."

As the last glimpse of the store faded through the cabbie's window, I turned to Holmes and asked him what it was that he thought had given him a clue.

"You will soon see, Whichston. Meanwhile, I'll reveal to you that this may be the work of Whoriarity." said my companion.

"What, Whoriarity?"

"Have I never mentioned him to you, Whichston?"

"You have told me some about his extreme characteristics."

"You must be joking Whichston, have I never mentioned the genius of this criminal mind?"

"Well, not much, you just told me that..."

"Whichston, this man is a complete genius! A complete genius!"

Holmes grabbed my coat and started shaking me back and forth, a wild light in his eyes.

"Holmes, I..."

"Whichston! I can't believe I haven't told you about him!"

"I..."

"Have I really, really, really, really never told you about him?????"

"No! And get off of me, Holmes!"

Holmes quickly sat back down in his seat.

"Whichston, I apologize for my behavior, but this man has such a calculating mind, a criminal organization behind him as well, he..."

"Ok, Holmes, now please calm down..."

"Sorry, it's just that he excites me so much."

I gave him a queer look.

"As a mortal enemy...." concluded my friend.

"What makes you think that Whoriarity could be conected with this strange sequence of events?"

Holmes looked blank for a second.

"Nothing, but he is always worth mentioning in one of my stories...he attracts publicity..."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"What? Well, nevermind it Whichston, nevermind, here we are at the station, and just in time!"

We quickly got out of the cabbie. A couple of people were waiting for the Stockton train, sitting on some wooden benches inside the station. My friends eyes darted round the people there, quickly identified our client, sitting with another lady, and spoke to her briefly. Ten minutes later, Holmes and I stood behind two adjacent pillars, revolvers drawn. The train started moving. My companions acute hearing sensed it first, and looked from behind the pillar. A bullet shot through the window where our fair ladies would have sat, if not for Holmes's intervention. A quick glance at the puff of smoke reavealed a man hiding in the rafters near the giant clock, which pointed the two promptly. We both rushed out as the fiend attempted his escape. The man headed for the door, but was suddenly stopped by a police officer who Holmes had warned.

After further identification, the man was found to be called Anthony Wroughter, but he claimed to be 'Young Link' or something crazy by that style. As he would not reveal why he had done the crime, Holmes left to escort the ladies to their bench, where, he asked them if he could accompany them on their return. They assented, and he came back to disscuss with me some pending.

"Well Holmes, will you reveal to me now how you figured it all out?"

"Easy Whichtson. First, I guessed the lady had been there because of the parakeet feather, probably to buy a top hat. Then I checked the receipt to see what kind of hat she bought. Upon this inferrence, I knew someone would try to murder her."

"Why?"

"Well, simply because this world is full of soft leather craving psychopaths!"

"Oh....so the case is solved?"

"Absolutely not, Whichston, this had nothing to do with it!"

"Then we are going with the ladies to see the evidence?"

"That is elemental, my dear Whichston."

Soon, half a crown had bought both Holmes and my ticket to Stockton, Wiltshire, near the Wylye river, since Bob had an appointment and couldn't come. We boarded the next train forty-five minutes later, which I might say was a very boring wait, and took a seat far away from where the gun had shot. I couldn't help but feel pity for those last to board, who would have to take that seat if they wanted to ride at all. The green hills rose and fell behind us as Holmes asked for the sisters to tell their narative.

"Gleeclu allala magliculo" said the stockier sister who had come to our modest apartment in Baker street.

"Err, perhaps, if the lady would excuse me for saying this, I could listen the voice of your sister as she conducts me theough your, err, most likely sad story...it might be, err, revelant to the case." said Holmes.

"I will, Mr. Holmes, I will." said the older one, speaking for the first time in a sweet gentle voice. She was a handsome woman, of many graces and compostures, and she carried herself with bearings.

Holmes drew back from her, repulsed.

"What is it?" I whispered in his ear.

"She's so ugly!" He whispered back.

It is irrevelant that I should tell you that Holmes apreciation in women was of the queerest manner, because you already know.

"What is it sir?" asked the lady.

"Nothing, nothing, pray continue with your story." said Holmes, overcoming his evident repugnance.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, it all started about a month ago. Me and my sister are the daughters of the owner of Carl's Junior. It is a very famous and rich corporation, sir."

"Ah, yes, Carl's Junior, the butchering company, I have heard quite a bit about it. I suppose your father is Mr. Junior?"

"Yes sir, I am Patricia Junior, and this is my sister, Gweebla Junior. As I was saying, Mr. Holmes, my sister, my father and I are the owners of this wealthy corporation. Recently, there has been certain pressure on my father's back, to the point where the doctor feared for my father's life, and ordered him to spend some time in the country. Therefore our visit to Stockton.
To the point, we spent some time in the country, and often me and my sister took walks along with father in the countryside. Everything seemed fine, until one day in the village, we heard something about parakeets being strangled. My father is a naturally curious man, and as soon as he heard about something so unusual, he inquired further. As he arrived later that night, he told us of the strange occurences. I think, Mr. Holmes, that it is neccessary to explain to you the ancient tradition, that is, although unusual to this part of the country, a mystery in itself. Ever since the saxons arrived in the shores of England, early in the tenth or eleventh century, they kept strange breeds of animals to give them good luck. After their...extermination, we could say, this tradition was forgotten in the realms of time, until, in 1804, a man named Richard Bolton found evidence that such a tradition did indeed exist amid the saxons. He presented his work with enthusiasm in front of a commitee of archeological experts, but they dissmissed the idea.

Bolton, enfuriated by his refusal, set out to become a sort of preacher of his dicoveries. Amid the populace of small towns and ignorant commoners, he spread his ideas, warning them of the danger of not keeping an exotic bird in their household, condemning them if they refused; basically, spreading terror upon those intelligences inferior to his, those of the villagers, and then showing them pity, so that he rose as a sort of leader over them.

He then contracted a group of men to be his 'gang'. He set them about the towns, let the townspeople know he meant business. Some worshipped him, some held secret meetings about him, but besides all their efforts, the black ruler whom they called 'Bird Bolton' endured...until the police arrested him, but that's besides the point. Most villages were happy about his disposal, that this 'Bird Bolton' had disappear. His men scattered. But here is where our village differed. This particular village, being the birthplace of our dear archeologist, 'Bird Bolton', and where he spoke most fervently, adored the man. They had humbled themeselves in his presence, had followed every rule he set with absolute faith, they were the only ones who truly believed in the greater spirits which Bolton had predicted would descend upon those unloyal.

Many years had followed, with the result of Bolton's death after his liberation in 1818, but the tradition of keeping exotic birds, of which the parakeet grew to be the most common among them, was kept. Many young men had abandoned the small village, tired of the closed minded ways of the villagers, but mostly, the populace in the small village had remained faithful.

The problem had originated when an old neighbor had found his parakeet dead. It did not seem a very excitable thing to him, except for the loss of his loved bird, since it is usual that a bird will die every couple of years, so he dissmissed it, gave the bird a small funeral, and the next week came back from London with another parakeet, just as handsome as the last.

However, the next day, as he returned home, he saw that his little parakeet lay on the floor of it's cage, dead. The man grew fearful, for he was afraid that some higher being had cursed him, therefore he called the local police. The local police, equally scared of this strange unknown, was in doubt as to what course of action to take. It was in this state of matters that my father bumped into. He imposed calm into the men's heart, and told them to buy anotherparaket, wait in the old man's house, and see what came of it.

For a week they watched inside the old man's house, until finally, one night, my father and the two police heard something in the window. As they crept forward to investigate, a strong smell invaded their nostrils, and they fainted. A few hours later, they recuperated from the strong chloroform bottle that lay at their feet. The parakeet was yet again stone dead. The old man had heard nothing during the night, and had only woken a few minutes earlier."

" I suppose it was him that removed the bottle, then?" said Holmes inquisitevely.

"Yes." said the lady, a little startled.

"Pray continue. Wait, what's this I smell?" said Holmes.

"Oh, I farted. I didn't think you would notice." said I

Holmes looked at me with care.

"You've been eating cow liver again, Watson?"

"Holmes, you always amaze me with your deducting powers!"

"Excuse me, but could I continue?" said the lady.

"Yes, yes, of course." said Holmes as he opened the cabin door.

"As I was saying, my father was enfuriated that this man had played him right under his nose. The old man, scared by these tidings of evil which had wrought his house, had packed his thing's and left to somewhere else, where he hoped the evil spirts would leave him. Everyday at four, my father went out for an excursion, and did not return until seven. My sister and I were very worried for him, but as much as we would implore him to leave the mystery which engaged so much of his time when he should be relaxing. But he ignored out pleas, and kept on about his buisness of discovering who was behind these strange crimes.

One day, after returning half an hour late after his time, he unfolded a piece of paper in front of us slowly, his face beaming. He said he had discovered a new clue of some sort as to concern the cause of the strange murders. He read to us how the doctors in the laboratory's that he had sent the body of the bird had discovered something. It seemed that the clutch of fingers, almost undiscernable in the birds small frame, had appeared on it's neck. The doctors had also dicovered that the neck had been snapped almost in half.

To my father, this only complicated the matter more, for who would strangle a parakeet? It seemed ridiculous. He didn't give up however, and continued his daily habits. As to were he went or what he did, I have no clue. Once I tried to follow him, but I was foiled when he discovered me. I guess running around in a tight-skin suit is not very auspicious these days.

Well, three days ago, my father came back very nervous from one of his escapades. I noticed that as he poured himself some tea, his glass shook. That night, he made his rounds about the house twice. I went to bed with my sister, but at about one o'clock, I heard an agonizing scream, hurried footsteps, and then I rushed down outside. There was my father, lying dead on the garden floor. The local police was too puzzled, so they sent for Spottyland Yard, the best detectives in England. Spottyland Yard sent in turn Inspector Lessmarte. However, I was not satisfied with that second rate inspector, Mr.Holmes. I assure you, I'll go to any means to find my father's murderer."

"Holmes?" said I.

Holmes grumbled in his sleep.

"Holmes, wake up! I can't believe you're so rude!" I ejaculated.

"Huh? wha-? oh. Well, that's really...uhh, very interesting, uh, I'm very happy for you." said my drowsy friend.

"Holmes, her father just died..." said I as the young ladies burst into tears.

"Ya." said Gweebla, the 'slow' sister.

"Who died!" said Holmes, suddenly awake and ready for anything.

The sisters started crying even more franticly.

"Their father, Holmes, their father freakin' died, alright?! Their father just got shot in the stupid head! He just got shot! Get it? shot! Shot like a turkey, shot like a chicken! Bye bye, Mr. turkey...BAM! Haha, like a stupid turkey! The poor son of a beech couldn't even defend himself!" said I ferociously, angry at Holmes.

"Tut, tut, Whichston, that is no way to behave, see what you have done?"

The two girls were sitting stiffly, palid and staring at me in horror.

"Oh, sorry." said I in apology.

"Well," asked Holmes, "is there any clue to help us?"

"Y-yes." said the girl nervously, her eyes switching in fear at me every half a second.

"What is it?" asked Holmes.

"Well, we know his name and his address.....and we also found his employer and where-"

"No, no and no!" said Holmes.

The girl recoiled.

"You have to understand, what I need is an insignificant detail, something so stupid, no one would even notice. Something no one could ever hope to find anything from, like a piece of rubber, or those plastic things on the end of your shoe laces no one knows what they're called."

"Well, I daresay, there IS a couple of those..."

"Isn't there always?" said Holmes "If they weren't, then Whichston wouldn't even bother to tell this story because it would be boring..."

"Well, upon the ground we found some strange tracks, and also, some other things which it would be better for you o see yourself."

"I would also like to examine the parakeets."

"Of course, Mr. Holmes."

Soon we arrived in the small town of Stockton, a mere eight blocks or more of houses. The rail road just happened to run a mere quarter mile from the town.

Yet, as soon as we got there, we were greeted by Lessmarte. He smiled at my friend.

"It seems, Mr. Holmes, that I have gotten ahead of you this time. Come with me, and I'll show you something interesting."

"What? Oh it's you, that one guy that keeps stalking me."

"Hey, this is different!" said Lessmarte.

"Well, Whichston, should we go with the stalker guy, or should we investigate the scene?" said Holmes good humourly.

Why wasn't Bob here to help me?
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Reiso



Joined: 27 Oct 2004
Posts: 917
Location: Western North America

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 5:00 pm    Post subject:  

Man, eight votes and no replies . . . that's lame. I went with accepting the case to move the story along, but it seems a large majority of your readers are good shoppers.

:D
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D-Lotus



Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 7:20 pm    Post subject:  

Ummm, Reiso, did you realize that were way past that?

I just posted a new chapter...did you read it?
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Ravenwing



Joined: 18 May 2004
Posts: 3750
Location: Virginia

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 7:34 pm    Post subject:  

Not that many mistakes, D. You're improving.8) enfuriated=[color=cyan]infuriated and thing's =things. I didn't have time to do a detailed grammar check, but all the sentences sounded fine as I read it. Humour the stalker dude is my suggestion. Who knows what end Holmes will meet.8)[/color]
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D-Lotus



Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 7:41 pm    Post subject:  

I think you guys would appreciate my work more if you'd read at leat one or two Holmes stories....even the vocabulary is very much the same.


Anyway, thanks for the imput Rave, I may have many mistakes because I try to use harder vocabulary of those times.
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Reiso



Joined: 27 Oct 2004
Posts: 917
Location: Western North America

Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2005 10:26 pm    Post subject:  

D-Lotus wrote: Ummm, Reiso, did you realize that were way past that?

I just posted a new chapter...did you read it?

I wondered why the poll options didn't seem to match the chapter. I figured you were taking some kind of abstract approach to the voting process - never even occured to me they were the same options from before. Man is that embarassing - need me to delete the old poll, D?

Also, you mentioned people may appreciate the story more if they had read the Sherlock Holmes books, and I am happy to say that being the proud owner of a nice leather bound collection of his works, that I have. By the way, 'Whoriarty' is by far one of the best things you have ever come up with.
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Smee



Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Posts: 5215
Location: UK

Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2005 3:20 am    Post subject:  

Hey D,

Sorry for not posting comment, but I am voting when I can. Until my course finishes I'm relatively stuck.

This story is entertaining, and well written. I think he should check the crimescene alone.

Keep up the writing D, :)
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ethereal_fauna



Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Posts: 2567
Location: USA

Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2005 3:54 am    Post subject:  

Go check out what Lessmarte has found. If not you'll just keep thinking about it later and wish that you had.
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Guest






Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2005 2:38 pm    Post subject:  

I asked Random to delete the poll, so I'll do it as soon as possible.

-D-Lotus

Reiso: Thanks, do you recognize the style or anything?
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Chainfire
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Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2005 3:01 pm    Post subject:  

I chose to smoke opium cuz i want u to write about something in which u have a lot of experience.
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D-Lotus
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Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2005 8:01 pm    Post subject:  

I smoke weed, not opium... :D

I guess you didn't read the story....

anyway, if everybody votes for opium, then I'll need your help to write the next chapter.
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Reiso
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Joined: 27 Oct 2004
Posts: 917
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Posted: Wed Mar 16, 2005 3:18 am    Post subject:  

Anonymous wrote: I asked Random to delete the poll, so I'll do it as soon as possible.

-D-Lotus

Reiso: Thanks, do you recognize the style or anything?

I definitely see the similarity. There is a stuffy, wordy kind of writing that a lot of writers had back then (they were paid by the word, you know), but Doyle was only rivaled by Poe in how superflously descriptive his writing was. Lots of unnessary words and jumbling sentences. He somehow made it work though . . . I think it's great that while you haven't really taken this that far, there is evident buffoonery that you make of it. That and the spotty sort of pip pip good chap, well you know way of talking they have. You've got that down to a T.

Also, a bit off topic - I really enjoy the occasional reference to the writing itself (such as the ejaculate argument), in which the paragraph above is referenced directly by the character. Funny stuff. Keep it coming.
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Random
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Posted: Wed Mar 16, 2005 12:56 pm    Post subject:  

Since I'm really unsure as to where the opium option stems from and the rude back to London just makes no sense, so I opted for looking at the crime scene. Lessmarte will be back if he is truly stalking you.
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D-Lotus
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Joined: 21 Oct 2004
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Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Wed Mar 16, 2005 2:56 pm    Post subject:  

Hmmm...a close vote. By rude I meant ride....
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Random
Guest





Posted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 11:13 am    Post subject:  

LOL my brain simply did not connect rude and ride... man I am totally overworked right now. I would have kept my vote the same either way though. :)
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D-Lotus
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Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 3:30 pm    Post subject:  

As soon as there is a clear result, I will write the next chapter, I have some ideas.

+
@/
!/
!
!--->
!
!

Don't ask me what this is, cause I couldn'st answer.
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D-Lotus
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Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA

Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 4:30 pm    Post subject:  

OK, then as soon as I write the chapter of Bushido, I'll write this chapter. Expect it sometime next week, or after spring break.
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