[Author's note: The title comes from that song that can get stuck in your
head so easily: "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice. Dude, we're in Alaska, you
know?!
NPI stands for "no pun intended". I seem to be running into a lot of those.
Must be my subconscious wittiness. :D
monty: oh f*** off
*And the next scene shows j.r. angrily washing monty's mouth out with soap* Which reminds me, I stole that from another LOTR spoof site:
Enjoy! (Both the site and the FICCY! And don't forget to review! *monty lets at a weak growl*]
Sherlock Holmes [yea I know. I can't seem to help it sometimes, I swear!] took his snow cone from Beth Lestrade with disgust and reluctance. Ice, ice, and ice: everything in Alaska was ice. He was surprised his magnifying glass hadn't frozen over as well.
With their ice in hand, Holmes and Lestrade continued on down the street as Lestrade yawned for the thousandth time that day. And it was on purpose, too. So far they had found dead ends at the end [NPI] of all their leads: the craft rental clerk had refused to let out "confidential information on customers no matter what kind of criminal they were. He refused to be bribed or moved by threats. And, to top it all off like a cherry on an ICE cream sundae, the little blister had had them kicked out after they tried to distract him and steal the logbook. Next, the two New Londoners had tried to spark up a conversation with nearby electrical workers [who were trying to reinstate electricity to jaka ray's power sources... *cough cough* nightmare], in case they had seen Moriarty or Fenwick claiming their rental vehicle. But a spark of speech was useless in the cold, wintry personalities of the Alaskans. So, Lestrade bought Holmes and herself some snow cones to "cheer themselves up". However, Holmes soon discovered what a "cheering up" meant in the eyes of Beth Lestrade.
No matter how cold or wintry the workers really were, a snow cone down one's trousers in NOT a good feeling. And instead of cheering up, the Inspector was a grouch as she followed Holmes. Finally, after another yawn, she questioned her colleague. "So where to next, smart one?"
That did it. It was the last straw. Holmes lost his patience but remained calm. Ignoring her questions and calling a cab, he held the door open for her. With a shrug Lestrade stepped in. "Where to?" the cabby asked. Lestrade suppressed another yawn again and leaned her head against the window, swimming in boredom. But suddenly she straightened up, noticing how her companion had not joined her in the craft.
Opening her mouth to say something, Lestrade's voice was cut off as Holmes slammed the door shut, handing the driver some credits as hastily as he could, and told it to "drive anywhere just not here!" With that, the robotic vehicle shot off.
"ZED!" Lestrade screamed. No amount of Lestrade-uttered threats would budge the robot, programmed to do its job. "Dumb robots! Piece of zedding junk." Sitting back in her seat with a huff, her mood was no less brightened by the lack of scenery outside her window. And she thought New London was bad.
The robot, sensing a heightened amount of stress in its backseat, suggested a massage parlor to calm its client's nerves. Lestrade shrugged, not objecting to the idea at all in her mind. She needed something to relax her, and at least it didn't have anything to do with ice.
*************
"Now, with the female removed, you should be able to concentrate." Sherlock said aloud to himself as he watched the hovercraft become a dot in the distance.
Turning to go, however, his sharp senses were suddenly alerted to a dark vehicle, which took off after the hover cab. Watching it closely in the corner of his eye, Holmes became sure that the driver was hunched over and really was tailing Lestrade. And what about himself? Was he being tailed too? Holmes quickened his pace and rounded a few corners, making sure to stop briefly at window shops, as if some trinket had caught his attention. But he used the glass to see behind him, a trick he picked up from years of detecting in London. Sure enough, he saw a man three blocks behind him who had also stopped and seemed to be watching Holmes intently.
The Englishman straightened up again, continuing on down the street, finally turning into a deserted alley. Just as he turned he spun around again, and, like he expected, ran head first into his tail. What happened next involved some hurling and twirling and demands and screams of "Uncle! Uncle!" [If you have an older sibling you'll know what this means. ;)] Just kidding. Well, it all ended with Holmes huffing and puffing and a man he identified as one of the workers from across the street lying unconscious on the sidewalk.
"My Gosh, it was only a snow cone." Sherlock muttered to himself as police druids entered the scene. Recognizing the great detective, however, they immediately let him go on his way, much to his relief.
"And there's one after Lestrade too! I'd better. Aw bloody hell I don't even know where's she's gone." Scratching his blond hair and noticing randomly that he hadn't shaved in a while [Yea. Keep that rugged manliness, Holmes.], he remembered the cab number and was soon able to convince a robot, by means of unplugging and rewiring, to locate hover cab #6039 and follow it. And he made sure nobody was tailing him this time.
[Author's note: Don't get the "Uncle" thing? Well if you've ever been an older sibling or had one, (or read "Foxtrot"), the stereotypical bullying involved demands of saying "Uncle" as a sort of "I Surrender!" Like asking some little kid, "who's your daddy?!" or something like that. Can't relate to it? Sorry then.]
monty: oh f*** off
*And the next scene shows j.r. angrily washing monty's mouth out with soap* Which reminds me, I stole that from another LOTR spoof site:
Enjoy! (Both the site and the FICCY! And don't forget to review! *monty lets at a weak growl*]
Sherlock Holmes [yea I know. I can't seem to help it sometimes, I swear!] took his snow cone from Beth Lestrade with disgust and reluctance. Ice, ice, and ice: everything in Alaska was ice. He was surprised his magnifying glass hadn't frozen over as well.
With their ice in hand, Holmes and Lestrade continued on down the street as Lestrade yawned for the thousandth time that day. And it was on purpose, too. So far they had found dead ends at the end [NPI] of all their leads: the craft rental clerk had refused to let out "confidential information on customers no matter what kind of criminal they were. He refused to be bribed or moved by threats. And, to top it all off like a cherry on an ICE cream sundae, the little blister had had them kicked out after they tried to distract him and steal the logbook. Next, the two New Londoners had tried to spark up a conversation with nearby electrical workers [who were trying to reinstate electricity to jaka ray's power sources... *cough cough* nightmare], in case they had seen Moriarty or Fenwick claiming their rental vehicle. But a spark of speech was useless in the cold, wintry personalities of the Alaskans. So, Lestrade bought Holmes and herself some snow cones to "cheer themselves up". However, Holmes soon discovered what a "cheering up" meant in the eyes of Beth Lestrade.
No matter how cold or wintry the workers really were, a snow cone down one's trousers in NOT a good feeling. And instead of cheering up, the Inspector was a grouch as she followed Holmes. Finally, after another yawn, she questioned her colleague. "So where to next, smart one?"
That did it. It was the last straw. Holmes lost his patience but remained calm. Ignoring her questions and calling a cab, he held the door open for her. With a shrug Lestrade stepped in. "Where to?" the cabby asked. Lestrade suppressed another yawn again and leaned her head against the window, swimming in boredom. But suddenly she straightened up, noticing how her companion had not joined her in the craft.
Opening her mouth to say something, Lestrade's voice was cut off as Holmes slammed the door shut, handing the driver some credits as hastily as he could, and told it to "drive anywhere just not here!" With that, the robotic vehicle shot off.
"ZED!" Lestrade screamed. No amount of Lestrade-uttered threats would budge the robot, programmed to do its job. "Dumb robots! Piece of zedding junk." Sitting back in her seat with a huff, her mood was no less brightened by the lack of scenery outside her window. And she thought New London was bad.
The robot, sensing a heightened amount of stress in its backseat, suggested a massage parlor to calm its client's nerves. Lestrade shrugged, not objecting to the idea at all in her mind. She needed something to relax her, and at least it didn't have anything to do with ice.
*************
"Now, with the female removed, you should be able to concentrate." Sherlock said aloud to himself as he watched the hovercraft become a dot in the distance.
Turning to go, however, his sharp senses were suddenly alerted to a dark vehicle, which took off after the hover cab. Watching it closely in the corner of his eye, Holmes became sure that the driver was hunched over and really was tailing Lestrade. And what about himself? Was he being tailed too? Holmes quickened his pace and rounded a few corners, making sure to stop briefly at window shops, as if some trinket had caught his attention. But he used the glass to see behind him, a trick he picked up from years of detecting in London. Sure enough, he saw a man three blocks behind him who had also stopped and seemed to be watching Holmes intently.
The Englishman straightened up again, continuing on down the street, finally turning into a deserted alley. Just as he turned he spun around again, and, like he expected, ran head first into his tail. What happened next involved some hurling and twirling and demands and screams of "Uncle! Uncle!" [If you have an older sibling you'll know what this means. ;)] Just kidding. Well, it all ended with Holmes huffing and puffing and a man he identified as one of the workers from across the street lying unconscious on the sidewalk.
"My Gosh, it was only a snow cone." Sherlock muttered to himself as police druids entered the scene. Recognizing the great detective, however, they immediately let him go on his way, much to his relief.
"And there's one after Lestrade too! I'd better. Aw bloody hell I don't even know where's she's gone." Scratching his blond hair and noticing randomly that he hadn't shaved in a while [Yea. Keep that rugged manliness, Holmes.], he remembered the cab number and was soon able to convince a robot, by means of unplugging and rewiring, to locate hover cab #6039 and follow it. And he made sure nobody was tailing him this time.
[Author's note: Don't get the "Uncle" thing? Well if you've ever been an older sibling or had one, (or read "Foxtrot"), the stereotypical bullying involved demands of saying "Uncle" as a sort of "I Surrender!" Like asking some little kid, "who's your daddy?!" or something like that. Can't relate to it? Sorry then.]