Because I can so see this happening for some reason. Completely random.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
Philip Anderson did not consider himself to be stupid. He thought of himself as quite clever, actually.
He knew not to get into strange black cars with strangers.
It had started with the text messages:
Mr. Anderson. Look up and to the left and the right. You will see cameras. -BLOCKED
Like a highly intellectual person, Anderson looked and then texted back:
Why r da cmeras fllwng me? -P. Anderson
The only response he got was:
Get in the car. -BLOCKED
He didn't really have a choice, so he obeyed.
Anderson found himself sitting next to a pretty lady with a Blackberry phone. She was texting or playing a game or something.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"Mmm... Eliza."
"Cool. I'm Anderson."
A beat of silence.
"Were you kidnapped too?"
"No."
"Oh. Is Eliza your real name?"
"No."
"Where am I going?"
No response. Not-Eliza must have decided that he was boring.
Finally the car stopped and the door opened. Anderson sat still.
"Bye," Not-Eliza said.
He blinked.
"Oh. Bye, I guess."
Anderson got out of the car.
He found himself inside of an old, dark warehouse like where someone would be in a horror movie. A light shone up ahead. He walked towards it.
There stood a man with an umbrella. He swung it absently and gestured to a chair. "Please, Mr. Anderson, take a seat."
Anderson's eyes widened. "No! That's how people die in horror movies!"
The man just stared at him, unimpressed.
Anderson took a seat.
"What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?"
"He is a criminal! Knew it! Are you a gang leader?"
"I am simply an interested party, and Sherlock Holmes is not a criminal."
Anderson stared at him, unconvinced. "You look like someone from the mafia. Who are you, then?"
"I told you. An interested party.''
He shrugged. "Okay. Well, he's a freak. He gets off on murders and stuff. And he kept eyeballs in his microwave.''
The man stared at him, twirling the umbrella. "Is that all?"
"Yep."
"Eliza will escort you home, then."
He left gladly, wondering how he escaped the horror movie alive.
The next day at Scotland Yard, he told Donovan and Lestrade about his adventure.
Lestrade laughed and Donovan grimaced knowingly.
Not quite the reaction he had expected.
Seeing the confusion written on his face, Lestrade said, "Happened to all of us, mate. That was his brother."
"What?"
"The Freak's brother," Donovan said. "Did he offer you anything?"
"No..."
"Aw, too bad. He stopped paying me after the first time. Guess I didn't provide good enough info."
"So this happens to everyone?"
"Yep."
He nodded slowly, wondering who the next unfortunate Yarder would be to face the elder Holmes' melodrama.