Written for Admin "The Woman" on Facebook's 'The Original Cumber Collective'. A picture of Captain Jack Sparrow with Benedict Cumberbatch's face in response to Mycroft saying "But initially, he wanted to be a pirate"
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
What the Hell?
After solving a case, John had managed to drag Sherlock to a dinner party at the cafe with Lestrade, Molly, Donovan, and Anderson.
"I don't want to do this. I should have to do this." Sherlock whined, yet with a serious tone.
"You're coming because one, they're the closest thing to friends you have-" John began.
"Anderson?" Sherlock interrupted, his face twisting into an expression of horror and panic.
"-And I promised Mrs. Hudson that I wouldn't let you blow up the kitchen, she's having a friend over tonight."
"Not her friend, it's her grand-niece, the one who thinks she's pregnant and is suffering from cigarette withdrawal because she's afraid of harming the child that she is, in fact, carrying."
"Sherlock, I swear, if you say anything to Mrs. Hudson..."
"No, no, that's why her niece is visiting in the first place."
Arriving at the cafe, Sherlock tried to turn and walk back to the flat, but John grabbed his arm and redirected him to the door.
About ten minutes into the meal, Sherlock still hadn't spoken until suddenly the air around the table's occupants started wavering, and impossible wind blew. As the cafe became more blurred, and the wind grew stronger, the other customers in the cafe didn't seem to notice a thing, but Sherlock suddenly stood and started shouting, "No, not right now, come on! They're not supposed to come!" at the air.
"What're you talking about?!" Lestrade shouted at Sherlock.
"Look, long story short, you're about to be pulled with me to another dimension. I'll look different, and I'll have a different name, just go along with it until I can find a way back, they're everywhere." Sherlock stated to the confused party.
When the wind died down, and they could see their surroundings again, they were standing on a jetty that ran from a pristine white beach into clear blue water. Somehow, the table hadn't gone with them, only the people.
"What the hell?!" John shouted at Sherlock, only Sherlock wasn't Sherlock. He had dreadlocks, a moustache, a goatee, and was dressed as a pirate, all in leather and old cotton. And a good deal of chains and beads.
Not-quite Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, and his voice sounded almost the same, but brighter, more enthusiastic, and he said, "Welcome to the Caribbean."