Just something I scribbled up and decided to post. Hope it's not too confusing!
The Adventure Aboard the H.M.S.S. Baker Street
SHERLocC 221B really was just trying to do his job. Did anyone have any idea how difficult it was these days to function as a SHERLocC in today's society? No one really ever appreciated SHERLocCs anymore. Least of all the Leaders of Strategic Arms and Defense, for whom they had been invented. No, the LeStrADes of the H.M.S.S. Baker Street seemed to be able to function perfectly fine without SHERLocCs now. That was part of the reason that this SHERLocC found himself in this otherwise unpatrolled sector of the ship. Sector 7 housed the STaMForDs and they were droids that most were none too inclined to tangle with. You never knew if you might be snatched from your duties and tinkered with, courtesy of the carte blanche given to the STaMForDs by The Captain. The SHERLocC was here, though, on a mission. He had a feeling that something was up in this sector and couldn't dismiss the urge to investigate. Unfortunately, it didn't seem as if there was anything to be found. 221B gave a mechanical sigh and trundled forward, careful to avoid the oil on the steel floor, courtesy of a leak from what appeared to be a LeStrADe droid.
221B rolled steadily down the enclosed corridor, careful not to leave track-marks on the floor. None of the MicroFTs would like that. He snickered slightly. The MicroFTs, or Micro Floor Technicians, were the bottom of the food chain on the Baker Street. The SHERLocC was sure that if any class of droid was chosen to be ejected into the cold, emptiness of space, the MicroFTs would be it.
The SHERLocC paused as an announcement came over the speakers. "All SHERLocCs and WaTSoNs are to report immediately to Yard Bay 1881. Repeat, all SHERLocCs and WaTSoNs are to report immediately to Yard Bay 1881." The SHERLocC searched his memory banks rapidly and located the position of Yard Bay 1881. He silently groaned; it was on the whole other side of the ship! Thanks to his impromptu detour from his usual rounds, he would now be the last one to arrive at the Bay. Turning in the correct direction, the SHERLocC began rolling as fast as he could, hoping that he wouldn't be unforgivably late. The last time 221B had reported late to a meeting because of an independent investigation, LeStrADe 17DI had threatened to have him decommissioned. The SHERLocC couldn't imagine what horrors the LeStrADe would have waiting for him this time.
Eighteen minutes and forty-seven seconds since the announcement had been made, SHERLocC 221B trundled into Yard Bay 1881, interrupting the LeStrADe that was speaking. Drat! The LeStrADe giving orders was 17DI. Oh no, oh no, oh no! 221B could just imagine what punishment awaited him now, especially after the LeStrADe's reaction last time.
Surprisingly, the LeStrADe did no more than glance at the SHERLocC before continuing. "MaRIArtE 91RF is armed and extremely dangerous. All droids should proceed with caution. SHERLocCs, your job is simply to track and locate the MaRIArtE. WaTSoNs, it is your responsibility to destroy it. You have your assignments." With those words, the LeStrADe spun around as quickly as his tracks would allow and exited the room. The remaining droids quickly paired off, one SHERLocC with each WaTSoN, and followed. Soon, SHERLocC 221B was alone in the room. He looked around, confused. What was going on? It seemed to him that there should be one WaTSoN left for him to partner with. Out of the corner of his lens, he noticed movement and quickly turned around. A WaTSoN was slowly rolling towards him. This could only be the WaTSoN that he was supposed to partner with and the SHERLocC could immediately tell that LeStrADe 17DI had not forgiven him for his tardiness.
The WaTSoN had seen better days, any droid could tell that. His casing was dented and his track seemed wrong. Looking closer, 221B could see that one of the tracks had been replaced with one meant for a droid with a differently shaped body, most probably a MicroFT, as it also looked a little small. On the droid's front, the SHERLocC could barely read the WaTSoN's serial number: 578A. He looked at the droid with new respect. Very few of the A models had survived the skirmish with the S.S. Maiwand a few months previous. Out of the batch of a thousand, there were perhaps five surviving droids. By now, the WaTSoN had drawn level with the SHERLocC and was gazing at him steadily. "So," 221B began, wondering where to begin. "You're a solider?" Instantly, he winced. Not only was that completely obvious from his model, he had also survived Maiwand. Of course, he was a solider!
Much to his surprise, the WaTSoN didn't berate him for his obvious recitation of known facts. Instead, his components rearranged themselves into a semblance of a smile. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed, though I suppose it's kind of hard to hide. Weapons and Tactical Soldier, Series N, and all. I assume you're trained as a tracker?"
The SHERLocC hesitantly smiled back. "Yes. Though programmed is perhaps a better word. Surveyor of Hallways and Escaping Rogue Locator and Capturer, Serial Number 221B, at your service, WaTSoN 578A."
The other droid looked surprised. "How did you know my serial number?" Then he remembered his serial plate and glanced down. "Oh, right. I forgot about that." He chuckled. "Do you have suggestions of where to begin?"
"I don't even really know what we are attempting to accomplish," the SHERLocC admitted. "I was investigating in Sector 7 and only managed to make it here in time for the last bit. Something about a MaRIArtE that needs to be destroyed?"
"Yes," the WaTSoN replied. "Something like that." He went on to explain that MaRIArtE 91RF had, for no apparent reason, gone berserk. He had gained control of several stolen laser blasters and was currently loose in the ship, getting up to who knows how much mischief. "The Captain has ordered all WaTSoNs and SHERLocCs to team up in order to destroy this rogue MaRIArtE as quickly as possible."
"Hmm," the SHERLocC pondered. "I wonder how a lone MaRIArtE managed to steal laser blasters. Aren't those usually locked up and off limits to all but LeStrADes and WaTSoNs? Even SHERLocCs don't have access to them. How did a MaRIArtE get one?"
"I don't know." The WaTSoN, too, looked confused now. There was a pause before he spoke again. "I could go review the logs," he offered slowly. "That could tell us who checked out laser blasters in the past few days."
"Good idea," 221B said. "I'll go with you. There might be a pattern that you could miss. I was programmed to pick out these things. Lead on, WaTSoN!"
After a slow trek to the WaTSoNs' homeport chamber, courtesy of 578A's damaged tracks, the pair finally arrived at the log port. Here, the WaTSoN entered his passcode to gain entrance to the system, then stood watch, nervously glancing up and down the corridor, hurriedly forming excuses in his circuitry should they be caught as the SHERLocC scoured the database for the required data. "Are you finished yet?" the WaTSoN hissed over his shoulder.
"Almost," the SHERLocC shot back. "All this looks normal, so far. A few WaTSoNs and LeStrADes checking out laser guns for target practice, but they were all returned." He was silent for a few moments before exclaiming, "Ha! Found it! I knew there had to be a mistake! There's always a mistake!"
"What is it?" the WaTSoN turned, intrigued, forgetting for a moment to worry about being caught.
"1.7 solar cycles ago STaMForD 192D checked out two laser guns. They have not been returned."
"Oh," the WaTSoN turned around again. "That won't help us. STaMForDs report directly to The Captain. Who knows what they needed those guns for."
"Exactly, WaTSoN! Don't you see it?" At the WaTSoN's blank stare, he continued. "The Captain controls the STaMForDs. We have no way of knowing what he uses them for."
"Um," here the WaTSoN broke in. "Actually we do. Don't you know what STaMForD stands for?" Now it was the SHERLocC's turn to give his partner a blank look. "How can you not know?" the WaTSoN asked incredulously, then he forfeited the argument. "Nevermind. STaMForD stands for 'Science, Technology, and Mutation Forensic Developer'. It's their job to conduct research and experiments in order to improve the efficiency of future droid models."
"I just knew they terrify most droids. MicroFTs have been known to vanish from the corridors in Sector 7, never to be heard from again. I must have known the acronym at some point, but I probably recorded over it or it got lost in transcription." The SHERLocC shrugged. "Either way, no big deal. By the way, I don't suppose you know much about MaRIArtEs, do you?"
The look the WaTSoN gave him this time was part exasperation, part amused tolerance. "A MaRIArtE is a Manager of Rare and Interesting Artifacts Encountered. They study all objects found on captured starships in order to determine their purpose and usefulness, if any, to The Empire. They are peaceful droids, scholars, and are statistically the least likely model to go rogue. Even when MaRIArtEs do go rogue, they are rarely weaponized. Usually they just end up treading up and down the corridors, attempting to beat any passing droid with whatever artifact was at hand when they went rogue." At the SHERLocC's snicker, the WaTSoN continued. "Once, when I was onboard the H.M.S.S. Peshawar, I saw a rogue MaRIArtE. He had been attempting to solve some sort of ancient puzzle block with colored squares that had to be put in the right order. Anyway, he had been trying to figure out that puzzle for cycles, convinced that some great revelation would arrive with its solution. When he finally solved it, he apparently received no revelation because the next thing we knew, he was rolling down the corridors at full tilt, throwing everything he had at hand." By this point, the SHERLocC was outright laughing. "It's not funny!" the WaTSoN insisted. "One MicroFT had to be decommissioned because his intake ports were coated in rabbit fur and no one could figure out a way to clear them!" At this, the SHERLocC just laughed harder.
"Anyway," the WaTSoN continued, desperate to change the subject. "What do you think we should do now?"
The SHERLocC quickly sobered. "We have no choice. It is obvious to me that STaMForD 192D had something to do with the rogue MaRIArtE. We need to investigate Sector 7."
Nine minutes and fifty-three seconds later, the two droids reached Sector 7. As 221B had just been there hours previous and knew the layout of the sector, he led the way, making sure to keep a slow enough pace for the handicapped WaTSoN to follow.
The pair had only been exploring the sector for five minutes and twenty-eight seconds when there was a loud clanging noise from around a bend in the corridor. Both froze instantly, preparing for who knows what. The WaTSoN ran silent checks on his inset laser guns, making sure they were in working order. 221B was running over everything he could deduce about the approaching droid in his circuitry, trying to gain as much of an advantage as he could. They braced themselves as the clanging drew nearer.
The droid rounded the corner and both of them relaxed. "It's just a MicroFT," the SHERLocC sighed in relief.
The MicroFT appeared to be affronted at that. He stopped in his tracks, then began to buzz loudly and angrily, like an upset beehive. Suddenly, he lurched forwards, headed straight for them. 221B's circuits sank as he realized that the MicroFT wasn't just irritated at the pair of them; he had gone rogue!
"WaTSoN!" the SHERLocC shouted. The other droid turned slightly, now watching both him and the MicroFT, as he began to tread slowly backwards. "The MicroFT's gone rogue!" The WaTSoN's lenses grew alarmed as he started to backtread faster.
"What do we do?" 578A asked frantically, not taking his eyes off the rogue.
"He's a rogue. You're a WaTSoN. You heard the LeStrADe. Destroy him!" he squeaked.
The WaTSoN opened his mouth to respond, but stopped, as both the droids heard the ominous clanking sound begin again. Only this time, it was coming from behind them.
The pair turned slightly, exchanging glances, before continuing their rotations. Behind them, tracks working furiously, was a MaRIArtE droid, serial number 91RF: the rogue.
The SHERLocC didn't have time to worry, as the MaRIArtE quickly fired his laser gun. He winced, waiting for the inevitable shutdown of all systems leading to the blue screen of decommissioning. A few moments later, he opened his lenses again and peered around. The MaRIArtE was still approaching rapidly from the other end of the corridor, his laser guns smoking slightly. Had the WaTSoN been hit? This thought struck the SHERLocC like the side of a starship. He turned as quickly as his mechanisms would allow, straining to see the droid. When he finally turned back to the side, he could see the WaTSoN peering back at him. 221B relaxed. He was fine.
Suddenly, he recalled the MaRIArtE. He tensed again, but didn't have time to worry, as the rogue droid in question trundled by him, ignoring the pair altogether. The SHERLocC exchanged puzzled looks with the WaTSoN. Where was he going? At the far end of the corridor, he could see a small, steaming lump of metal that looked as if it had—rather recently—been a useful droid. With astonishment, the SHERLocC realized where the MaRIArtE's blast had gone. It had found its way quite neatly between 221B and 578A, managing to decimate the rogue MicroFT.
Now the MaRIArtE was standing over the shell of the MicroFT, gazing remorsefully down at it. A long metal arm reached down to poke the MicroFT firmly, then withdrew. He tilted his head, as if puzzled at its inaction.
"Hurry, while he's distracted!" the SHERLocC whispered furiously to 578A. "Blast him! It could be our only chance. Who knows what he's going to do when he gets bored with the MicroFT!"
The WaTSoN looked doubtful. "What if he's not really a rogue? Have we seen any evidence to indicate it?"
Here, 221B hesitated. He was right. The MaRIArtE had not harmed them at all. He had actually saved them from the rogue MicroFT. Maybe they had been set up. He closed his lenses, blocking out all external stimuli.
A moment later he opened them. The MaRIArtE was still at the end of the corridor, examining the ruined MicroFT. He turned and saw the WaTSoN staring at him curiously. "What is it?" the other droid asked.
"You were right," the SHERLocC admitted. "The MaRIArtE was framed by the STaMForDs."
The WaTSoN looked startled. "What?"
"Think! LeStrADe 17DI told us to shoot on sight. How are we supposed to know if the MaRIArtE really is rogue if we don't take the time to check before decommissioning him? Because the LeStrADe told us he was! This morning I saw oil on the floor in this sector. STaMForDs are remarkably well-built droids; they rarely leak. Look," 221B pointed with one steel arm. "There, on the floor. That's oil the MaRIArtE dripped as he rolled past. He was leaking here this morning, as well. He must have seen the STaMForDs experimenting on the MicroFT, driving him rogue. Unfortunately, the STaMForDs saw him, too. He had just enough time to grab a laser gun before escaping. Now he's been labeled a rogue."
"What do we do now?"
The SHERLocC turned back to look at the MaRIArtE. "We have two options. We can continue with our mission and decommission him—"
"Not happening," the WaTSoN interjected sternly. "No innocent droids are going to die because of this."
"Right," he nodded. "Or we could attempt to take him into custody and explain to LeStrADe 17DI what happened, all the while hoping no SHERLocCs or WaTSoNs decide to complete their missions."
The WaTSoN looked unconvinced. "There is one other thing we can do." The SHERLocC frowned at him, puzzled. "We could hide him." The veteran droid began to roll forward slowly. After the SHERLocC did nothing to stop him, the WaTSoN sped up, though his top speed was still much slower than SHERLocC's, and the other droid easily kept up. Approaching the MaRIArtE, 578A slowed again. The MaRIArtE turned, alarmed, suddenly aware of the presence behind him. The WaTSoN began to speak to him in a calm, soothing voice. "It's alright; I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to help you. Now," he continued, once assured that the MaRIArtE wasn't going anywhere. "I need you to hold still. This may tickle a bit." With that warning, the WaTSoN suddenly turned on his lasers. The MaRIArtE squeaked and backed up, but at the WaTSoN's steady look, inched forwards again. The SHERLocC looked on, intrigued, as the WaTSoN used his lasers—set on what looked like a short-range, high-intensity beam—to make a few small adjustments to the front of the MaRIArtE. Then he rolled back. "What do you think?"
"Very nice," the SHERLocC said approvingly.
"This way no one will be able to recognize him as the rogue," the WaTSoN explained. "We can tell everyone that he was destroyed. It will be impossible to tell the difference between MicroFT and MaRIArtE. He'll be safe."
The newly christened MaRIArtE 97RE slowly rolled back and blinked at the pair. 578A turned around and began his trek back to Yard Bay 1881, the SHERLocC closely following. The SHERLocC paused and turned back to see the MaRIArtE still standing over the decommissioned MicroFT. It didn't appear as if the MaRIArtE had any intention of moving in the near future. The SHERLocC turned again and caught up to the WaTSoN and together the two of them trundled back to the Bay, problem solved.
"SHERLocC," the other droid began slowly.
"Yes?"
"How did the LeStrADe know that the MaRIArtE was rogue? Did the STaMForDs tell him?"
"Yes, of course they did," 221B replied sarcastically. "Just think about it for a moment. Who would have the authority to coordinate a cover-up this big?"
The other droid still looked puzzled.
"Isn't it obvious, WaTSoN? It was The Captain."
The End