The Baker Street Fanfiction Academy

by Juliet Norrington

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The celebrated Sherlock Holmes is famous in many ways; the Granada Mystery series, the various movies made over the past century, the Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century cartoon, the line "Elementary, my dear Watson", and, amazingly, from the original cannon written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at the end of the nineteenth century. Even now, over a hundred years later, Sherlock Holmes is still a household name.

One slightly dark (it was a full moon) and not-so-stormy (but extremely muggy) night millions of people sat down at their computers and attempted to log on to the Internet. Some checked their email, others went in search of cheat sheets or a pre-written essay to hand in at class the next day, others stared at their screen waiting for anyone to sign on to their buddy list so they could annoy them to death, and others banged their heads on their keyboards waiting for their stupid computers to connect to the internet and mutter about how much they hated dial-up.

And yet others went to upload fanfiction to a website known as "Fanfiction Dot Net". Some of these people were Good Fanfiction Writers who obeyed the laws of canon, but others disregarded the rules set down and broke laws at will. They were the Bad Fanfiction Writers, every day causing havoc in the Protectors of the Plot Continuum and the dozens of Official Fanfiction Universities scattered over the Canon Universes.

Leigh Tobias was one of the Bad Fanfiction Writers.

That slightly dark (it was a full moon) and not-so-stormy (but extremely muggy) night, she sat in her darkened dorm room, her eyes blinking to keep the sleep out of them. Her roommate, Summer, was off making her ears bleed at an Anberlin concert that she had attempted to drag Leigh to. Luckily, Leigh had insisted she had "homework" to do and got off the hook. Summer weird her out… who in their right might would hang out with guys who wore girl's jeans?!

So there she was, let off the hook of going to some weird emo show, and FINALLY able to finish her Sherlock Holmes fanfic. Her Sherlock Holmes ROMANCE fanfic. She glanced up from the computer, grinned, and waggled her eyebrows. Glancing back down, she yawned and began typing. This continued on for a while, and there isn't really anything else to note except she spelled a lot of things very badly and had no regard for any kind of grammar rule. Finally, she stopped and reread her work.

Her heroine, Ravyn Emerald Twilight Dusk, had just saved Sherlock Holmes' life by jumping in front of Professor Moriarty's laser beam. Before she died, however, Holmes admitted his love to her, and she died in his arms. Of course, Leigh couldn't just leave Ravyn dead, she'd come back to life in the next chapter, more beautiful and more charming than ever before! Hurrah! Leigh yawned and thought of her character. Ravyn was perfect, with eyes like pools of water, hair of gold, skin of bronze, and a silver, flutelike voice. Quite different from Leigh, whose eyes were a murky brown color, hair was brownish... brown, skin was a mixture of uneven tans and red bug bites, and voice was, well, she'd rather not dwell on that.

She sighed, and signed online. Hurriedly signing in at Fanfiction Dot Net, she attempted to upload her fanfic. (We say "attempted" because at this point her computer is about to make a sharp error noise and tell her that she isn't allowed to upload any more fanfiction because she's a Bad Fanfiction Writer.) Her computer made a whirring sound, and a sharp error noise. Leigh sat up, slightly more awake, and a small box popped up on the screen.

"Error, you have not acquired your Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction Writer's license yet. The chapter could not be uploaded. Please try again after you have acquired your license." Leigh read. (Close enough.) "What the heck?!" She tried again, and the same thing happened. So she tried again, and again, and again, and again as a long string of very ugly words escaped her mouth.

"Well, that's not very fittin' for a lady to say, eh, Commodore?" A voice behind her said suddenly.

"Most definitely not!" another voice replied Leigh jumped and spun around in her blue computer chair. Behind her stood two scruffy-looking urchins dressed in ragged, too-long coats, thin white shirts and long stripped trousers. One wore a faded black three corner hat, and the other's long messy blond hair was tied back with a piece of black cloth. The two strongly reminded her of The Artful Dodger from the musical "Oliver!" she had watched instead of reading the book for her English assignment last week, and both were had devilish grins spread across their faces.

"Aye, are you," the boy in the tri-cornered hat paused, "uh, 'ang on," he jammed his hands in his pockets searching for something. He continued searching while his friend started examining Leigh's homework. "'ere it is," the tri-cornered hat bloke mumbled, pulling out a tattered folder. "Are you Miss Leigh Tobias?" he asked, looking at the top of the folder.

"That's me." Leigh said, yawning again.

"I'm Commodore Lysander, but, ah, that doesn' matter. Anyway. WE'RE," he elbowed the blond boy, who jumped and straightened up, "'ere to inform you that you 'ave 'ficially been 'cepted into the Baker Street Fanfiction 'cademy." He bowed and handed her the folder.

"But what if I don't want to go to the… academy?" Leigh asked. Commodore Lysander and Sir Percival looked at each other and grinned.

"Well, I'm sure you're gonna wanna go, so we don needta talk 'bout that," Sir Percival said, "Please fill out this… thing, am' send it in straight away to Miss Juliet."

Leigh yawned shook her head. "I've finally cracked, haven't I?" she asked slowly. (Well, yes, it IS the full moon, you know.) "What's with this Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction Writer's License?"

"Oh, yeah, that's why you're goin' to the 'cademy, to get your license."

"Oh… okay… er, make yourself at home while I fill this out then…" 'This is a dream… only a dream…' She thought rubbing her eyes and pushed her keyboard out of the way and set the folder down.

The Baker Street Fanfiction Academy

We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into the Baker Street Fanfiction Academy. Please complete the following form; your train to BSFA will arrive at 3:40pm tomorrow afternoon. Food, clothing, and schoolbooks will be provided.

Signed,

Juliet Norrington

Headmistress

Coordinator

Head of... Just About Everything

P.S. Do not attempt to run for the border. We will find you, and make you pay even more than you will be. Have a nice day.

Leigh yawned and looked through the papers for the form, which was a five-page monster of a thing. She whimpered, and fished around for a purple glitter pen. Uncapping it, she rubbed her temples and got to work. The questions included, "Why you write fanfiction?", "Next of Kin?", "Blood Type?", "Medical Records?", "Fears?", and other disturbing questions. Finally she finished the last question ("Watson was useless: yes/no") and yawned yet again. Everything began to swim before her eyes.

"Finished." She mumbled and handed the papers to Commodore Lysander. Suddenly the keyboard was starting to look very comfortable… She drifted off to sleep, vaguely aware of Sir Percival dropping another folder on top of her computer, and he and Commodore Lysander disappearing with a small pop.

o.O;;

(We now switch to a very large and richly-furnished office.) Thin white curtains hung on a bronze rod over the windows with heavy red curtains tied up with gold cords. Di Vinci and Monet paintings lined the crimson walls, and large oriental rugs lay on the hardwood floor. A large oak desk sat near the back of the room, a large leather chair sat behind it. In front of the desk sat two small uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs. (Those were for whenever students had the misfortune to visit the office.) Two huge wooden cupboards sat on either side of the desk, and in the center of the room was a maple coffee table surrounded by a few comfortable-looking chairs and a couch.

A young woman in jeans, a black studded belt, and a small Anberlin t-shirt was sprawled over the couch in the center of the room. Her light brown hair was pulled back in two small buns on the not-exactly-top-but-not-exactly-the-back-nor-the-sides of her head, and her dark green eyes were gazing absentmindedly into space. Her name was Juliet Norrington, more commonly known as Juliet, or, by those that feared her, Miss Juliet.

A handsome young man in dark brown period clothing sat in one of the dark brown chairs in the center of the room. His curly dark brown hair framed his thin serious face, and his dark brown eyes were gazing at the paper in front of him. (He likes dark brown, have you noticed?) His name was Doctor Percy Trevelyan, he was a character from the Sherlock Holmes story, "The Resident Patient", and was now helping Miss Juliet with the registration process for the Baker Street Fanfiction Academy. He is more commonly known as Dr. Trevelyan.

"Who's left?" Dr. Trevelyan asked, leafing through several papers.

"Lysander Twist and Percival St. James," Miss Juliet said. "They're the only ones who haven't checked in yet." She sat up, "Ow... headache..."

"You sent them together? Are you sure that's a wise move?" He asked raising his right eyebrow. She sent him a Death Glare, but before she could say anything the door burst open.

"But what if she didn't? What then?" Commodore Lysander asked, running in, a tattered and purple-scrawled folder in his hand and Sir Percy following.

"Are we the first ones back?" Sir Percival asked.

"No, you're the last, in fact." Miss Juliet said, snatching the folder from Commodore Lysander. "Leigh Tobias, huh?" She tossed Leigh's form on top of another one reading, "Miss Skybright Daye" and turned to Dr. Trevelyan, "Go find March Hare, won't you? She's supposed to be here by now." He nodded, and left, not wanting to fear the wrath of Miss Juliet. Commodore Lysander and Sir Percival always ticked her off. Speaking of the devils, they were sitting cross-legged in the chairs across from her, waiting for their orders.

"The train will be arriving at her station at three forty tomorrow afternoon, you will be on that train. If she's not at the station, you know what to do. Remember; we've only been allotted a small amount of magic, don't blow it all before term has begun- understand?" She glared at them both.

"Yes, ma'am!" they chorused.

"Dismissed." They two jumped to their feet and saluted, then raced out of the room. Miss Juliet rubbed her temples and glared at the thankfully closed door. From one of the corners, a large, glowing shape made its way towards her, closer and closer until it reached her side, and slowly lifted its head to... to... nuzzle her leg. Miss Juliet looked down and smiled at the very large, glowing, English mastiff puppy, also known as a mini-Hound of the Baskervilles. The mini-hound wagged its tail and slobbered over her hand. Miss Juliet rolled her eyes and reached to wipe off the slime with a rag hanging by the couch for that very purpose, only to realize that it wasn't there.

Looking over, she saw Wanton and Hlomes playing tug-of-war with it on the other side of the room. 'At least they left my Di Vinci's alone', she thought dryly, getting to her feet. This was going to be a long year.

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Ah! It has been rewritten! So how'd like it? Better? Worse? Lemmie know! .-