Author's note: Hi! Basil here. Welcome to my story (I write the odd-numbered chapters). I hope you enjoy reading it. It is totally ridiculous, as stated in the description, completely fictional, and solely for entertainment purposes. Also, I have never worked at any of the restaurants I mention in the story. Thus, this story is probably riddled with inaccuracy and plot holes; please bear with me. Having said that, I do appreciate any and all feedback, be it constructive or positive. Happy fanfic-ing!
Mr. Sherlock Holmes sat in his office in a tiny back room in the Baker Street McDonald's franchise and did what he did best: thought. At that particular moment, he was thinking about how fantastic his life was. He had recently been promoted from fry cook to manager, and that alone would have been enough cause for celebration in his view. But he hadn't moved up the ranks just anywhere; this was the Baker Street McDonald's, widely regarded throughout the surrounding community as the finest fast food establishment within a fifteen-mile radius. Logically, his thoughts next turned to the competition. There was really only one business that was even in the same category as the McDonald's, and that was the Dunkin' Donuts down the street. Some claimed that the gas station in between the two stores drew away some business due to its small convenience mart, but Sherlock knew that was only frequented by plebeians. He scoffed at just the thought of them. They could keep their stale chips and beer six packs; McDonald's was where the quality was.
Dunkin' Donuts wasn't so easy to write off. For example, while it was true that the McDonald's Egg McMuffin breakfast sandwich was better tasting than the Dunkin' Donuts Ham Egg and Cheese, the Ham Egg and Cheese was sold during the store's entire operating hours, as opposed to a window of time in the morning. Not only did this draw customers looking for a breakfast sandwich outside of the traditional breakfast time period, but during the breakfast time period as well, as people appreciated consistency. A customer wasn't likely to buy the same sandwich from one restaurant at one period of the day and from another restaurant at another period of the day; they were most likely to stick with the restaurant that offered it whenever they would want it. Sherlock banged his fist on the desk in frustration and outrage. Though the timing of the McDonald's breakfast menu was not within his control (at the moment, at least), Sherlock vowed to do everything within his power to drive Dunkin' Donuts out of business entirely. Not just the Baker Street franchise, but the entire company.
John Watson stood behind the cash register at the Baker Street Dunkin' Donuts branch and stared out at the empty restaurant. Prospects were bleak; there had only been one customer all day, and that had been Casper's girlfriend. She purchased one 99 cent donut and conversed with Casper for an hour, while John casually wiped at his ears every so often to make sure they weren't actually bleeding from listening to such drivel. John had looked around after the first 45 minutes passed to see if Mike Stamford, his friend, was having the same reaction as him, before remembering that Mike had been laid off the previous week. Now the only employees were John and Casper. And even they might not have jobs for much longer.
Business was not doing well for this particular Dunkin' Donuts. John knew this was largely due to the presence of a McDonald's less than a block away. While John tried to stay loyal to the Dunkin' Donuts brand, as he chewed his rubbery Egg White Flatbread he sometimes yearned for a different sandwich flavor… the Big Mac. He wondered absently why he hadn't been fired yet; certainly Stamford hadn't ever craved anything with beef in it, at least as far as he knew. The fact that he had lasted as long as Casper surprised him. Casper was a slight adolescent that behaved disturbingly like an eight-year-old in the peak of his Matchbox car collecting phase; Casper being the young child in the simile and the Dunkin' Donuts job the toy cars. Once, making friendly conversation, John had asked Casper his age. Casper responded, without missing a beat, "Old enough to know my true passions in this life: my girlfriend, the U. S. of A., and the glorious corporation of Dunkin' Donuts."
John was jolted from his depressed daydreams by a shrill whistling. He was alarmed for a moment, worrying that something was wrong with the coffee machine again, before he realized it was simply Casper being Casper. He ground his teeth and glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time, asking himself how he had gotten to this point. He remembered the days when he was pre-med… before it had all changed course so suddenly.
The telephone rang, and John limped over to answer it. John's limp was psychosomatic, he knew, because he had never endured any physical trauma. It had been triggered when Dunkin' Donuts stopped carrying his favorite donut, the Jam-tastic Cake-jelly. Being informed that it had been a seasonal item did nothing to assuage his suffering. "Since when is there a season for jam?" he bemoaned. In his mind, jam was a year-round necessity.
He picked up the receiver and sighed heavily. "Hello?" he asked.
"John Watson!" cried the person on the other end. "John Watson!"
It sounded kind of like Mike, but he couldn't tell, because the person sounded like they were having a manic episode. The person was obviously hyperventilating. "Is everything alright, Mike?" John asked.
"Alright? Ha!" cried Mike. "Johnny boy, I'm better then alright! I'm smashing!"
"Since when do you call me Johnny boy?" asked John. "That feels uncomfortable to me."
"I have…" started Mike, and then something crashed through the glass door to the store with great force, causing the promotional image of a Coolatta to slide off it. It was Mike, talking on his cell phone with one hand and carrying something in his other. "A BIG MAC!" screamed Mike, and shoved the hamburger he was carrying into his mouth with a dramatic flourish.
An awkward moment passed while Mike chewed viciously. John stood behind the counter, still holding onto the phone, exchanging glances with Casper, who for once seemed just as baffled as him. Finally, Mike could speak again. "John, you have to get one of these sandwiches," he said. "It will change your life."
John gasped. For him, a Dunkin' Donuts employee, to purchase food at the McDonald's – it was blasphemy! But he had always yearned for more than the flat, bland sandwiches the Donut chain offered…
AN: Well, that's chapter one for ya. Please review and let me know how I'm doing (first time writing humor, can't you tell?) Thanks, lovely people. See you in chapter 3.