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Dear Scholar:
Chatterbox: Pudding's Place
Dear Scholar:
Dear Scholar:
In my quest to solve the mystries of the world, I have stumbled across this avid and intellectual community of scholars. I invite you to join me for a week in 1900's London. I hope you may come, and learn lots.
You may bring, as the ediquitte of this site demads, objects of your choice, and your Wtson: those bumbling idiots you call friends. What are they called- ah! Æs.
No bringing snacks. Or pets. Or music of an annoying and blasphemous kind.
Feel free to guess: but the spider has it's web.
Walk outside: you will be teleported here instantly.
-Sherlock Holmes
submitted by Mr. Holmes
(August 22, 2016 - 9:09 am)
(August 22, 2016 - 9:09 am)
Sherlock slammed the thief to the floor.
“I am sorry, but I am taking these stolen diamonds, Pawn.” Sherlock said as he fired the thieves gun to attract the police. Sherlock’s overcoat flapped. He ran into a carriage
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“Murder mysteries, Moriarty, Milverton, assassins, a chance to look good. Heck, I’m in.” Shadowmoon said.
Sherlock was offering Shadowmoon a partnership- of sorts. Shadowmoon would tell Sherlock what he saw, and Sherlock would use that information to keep Shadowmoon and his remaining Æ safe.
Sherlock requested for Shadowmoon and Echosong to put on the Deerstalkers they brought, and they left for the city.
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Sherlock looked like a dog. A big, brown, furry dog. He shifted around the warehouse with a large safe in one corner. Echosong had identified it as were she had been held. And there was yet another note:
“Black-a-Mailer” The note read.
“So, Jack-a-Nat has been framed…” Sherlock trailed off.
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“Murder!!” Ms. Hudson screamed. “Oh my! Murder!!!”
“Yes, indead. There have been exactly 38 murders this day. Which one?” Sherlock was looking completely relaxed in a battered armchair, having a cup of what looked like tea…
“In the kitchen! Oh dear!!” Ms. Hudson was falling to bits.
“Thirty-nine.” Sherlock scribbled in a note book.
“Holmes, a man has been murdered in your kitchen.”
“What!?!?!?!”
“Oh dear.”
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Galahad was dead.
Joan of Arc was shattered. More to the point, a painting of Joan of Ark had been ripped open.
“Why!? I had that poisoned dagger in the painting frame. Who would know?” Sherlock was yelling at Shadowmoon.
“Mr. Holmes!” Aquina ran into the room. “Galahad’s last words; they were as follows:
Know… much… tainted steal is… she ruined herself…”
“She was delirious. That poison I keep on mt fine cutlery- it does have a way of killing people.” Sherlock said, confidently.
Watson felt ill. Why had he felt so poor after last night's dinner…
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“Joan B or Ark, madame, can you tell me who hates you most. Who would kill Galahad with a knife that could only be gained by ripping your portrait?” Sherlock was prowling around the sitting room again.
“I have no idea.” Joan replied.
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To be continued...
(August 25, 2016 - 10:26 am)
Sherlock threw the door to Jack-a-Nat’s room. It was empty.
“Darn. The blackmailer should be here.” Sherlock muttered.
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Jack-a-Nat sat across from the murderer. She anxiously cracked her knuckles.
“Look, Jack-a-Nat.” The murderer said. “You can’t break. Milverton is paying you millions of Pounds to blackmail and annoy Sherlock. Moriarty wants me to keep you in line.”
“I am done. Blackmail is different than murder.” Jack-a-Nat replied.
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Sherlock threw the newspaper at the wall.
“Pawn of Milverton murdered.” The headline screamed.
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Kate-the-Great almost feinted. Brian lay dead in the sitting room. He had been crushed under a fallen bookshelf. It would be a terrible accident, but the wall mounting had been cut with a jagged object. The murderer had hit again.
Sherlock examined the body and bookshelf. A page from Aquina’s book had been stabbed into the side with Rosario’s pen. The page showed Reichenbach falls, with the word “Fall” scribbled over the image.
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“I know how this works.” Sherlock pointed his revolver at Aquina. “If I pay you, you talk. I will pay you ￡300 if you help me. If not, I kill you here.”
Sherlock made a nice smile, then glared at Aquina again.
“Deal. I have been hired by Moriarty to spy, and to kill Booksy Owl. There is another agent here who is supposed to kill everyone except me. But I do not know who that person is. All I know is that they are targeting Shadowmoon and myself.” Aquina replied.
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To be continued...
(August 25, 2016 - 2:54 pm)
“Stop!” Sherlock yelled.
Joan B. of Ark turned, without moving her hand from above Aquina’s neck. Pellucid huddled nearby.
“You are the murderer. Stop, or I shoot.” Sherlock repeated.
Joan turned back, and prepared to stab. Sherlock tightened his grip. There was a bang…
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Sherlock was dead. He had been pushed from the top story of a 5-story building.
Shadowmoon started to cry. The murderer was on the loose, and Sherlock was of no help. Who was the murderer? What could anyone do?
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A shadowy figure took Joan’s dagger from her dead hands. The figure closed Aquina’s pocketknife and crept into the sitting room. The game is on.
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To be continued…
The people remaining are:
CBers:
September
Kate-the-Great
Applejaguar
Brookeria
Shadowmoon
Æs:
Ariel
Rosario
Ellak
Cortona
Echosong
(August 25, 2016 - 3:10 pm)
Mr Holmes, are you by chance Gared?
(August 25, 2016 - 6:44 pm)
Yes.
(August 25, 2016 - 8:49 pm)
(September 2, 2016 - 11:27 pm)