Chapter 3

After establishing that the pink lady was dead and that the cause of death was...yeah, no, that's all they got, Sherlock shouted something about pink and made a dramatic exit. Surprisingly, not many people reacted to the detective shooting the third-floor window with a grenade launcher and backflipping out the hole.

John exited in the normal way: the stairs, while tripping any and everyone with his cane as he passed. Outside, Sherlock was no where to be found but Sally was still there.

"Stay away from that guy," she said.

John cast a wary glance at a random guy in the adjacent alley. The guy somehow rotated his head 360 degrees without breaking eye contact. "...Okay, I'll be sure to do that."

"Also, stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

"Why?"

Sally stared at him. "He just blew up a window and backflipped out of it. And survived!"

John laughed. "Haha yeah. Next he'll be crashing a starship into San Francisco or something! Well, it was nice chatting." He walked away.

Once on the main road, John heard the phone in the telephone box ring, though no one was in the box at the time.

"Fuckin Doctor Who shit…" he grumbled and moved along.

By the tenth ringing box he passed, the army doctor was starting to get really pissed. He punched through the glass and ripped the phone cord, silencing the ringing.

In some faraway secret room, a mysterious man sighed. "Oh, for God's sake. Time for Plan B."

Back with John: He threw the broken phone in a dumpster and kept walking. He was just wondering where exactly he was going when a giant head appeared in the sky. "Wha—Dad?"

"Yes, it is me, son," said Morgan Freeman.

"What the hell is going on?" Several other people had noticed the sky-head, but they all shrugged and moved on, muttering about 'Doctor Who shit' under their breath.

"Get into the van, son," said Sky Morgan Freeman. A white van had pulled up next to John. "Wait, shit, the car, the car! Not the white van!"

John shrugged and got into the black car. A brunette woman was also sitting in the car, texting on her Blackberry.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi."

"What the hell is going on?"

The woman (not to be confused with The Woman) handed him a piece of paper.

"This just says 'the giant ass shattered upon impact'."

"Yes."

-Later-

The car pulled into an empty warehouse. John got out and looked around. Standing in the middle of the warehouse was...a man. He walked up to the guy. "Uh...hello?"

The man exploded violently and rather suddenly. John let out a scream that was at least two octaves higher than normal and jumped back.

Maniacal laughter sounded from above. The laughter moved slightly to the left, then went down a staircase. It stumbled and cursed, then the laughter started up again and opened a door.

A strange man that looked like a potato walked out. "Well, well, well…" He took a stuffed pig out of his pocket, shook it once, then put it back. "Anyway. Have a seat, John."

John looked around. The only thing in his immediate vicinity was the remains of the exploding man from a hundred words ago. "Where? There aren't any chairs."

"Why, the floor, of course! The floor is one big infinite chair if you think about it. Also, I want to be able to look down at you and feel superior. Oh wait, you don't need to sit down for me to do that! Because of your height!" The man high-fived himself, a slightly maniacal smile on his face.

"Dude, what do you want?" John asked. "The mysterious phones, the head in the sky, the exploding man...you could have just called me."

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place." The potato man narrowed his eyes. "You don't seem very afraid."

"Eh."

"How about...now!" Potato threw a smoke bomb.

"How in the hell was that supposed to be scary?"

Potato coughed for several minutes due to the smoke before asking, "What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

"Well—I—" John sputtered defensively. "Well—what's you're connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

"You spelled 'your' wrong."

"Touche." John crossed his arms.

"You spelled dou—oh, wait, never mind."

"Who the hell even are you?"

"An interested party. And an interesting party." Strobe lights came out of nowhere.

"Are you, like, his stalker?"

Potato became all puffy. "I am his enemy. Probably his arch enemy. No, scratch that, arch nemesis. Arch nesnemeny!" He snapped his fingers at someone John couldn't see. "Gerald, write that one down!"

John's phone buzzed. It was Sherlock. Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH The text appeared next to John's head. He jumped away. "How does he do that?"

Potato cleared his throat, not liking being ignored. "Anyways, if you do decide to move into…" He looked at the smudged writing on his hand. "Twenty two pounds Breaking Bad...I'll pay you a large sum of money to spy on Sherlock. Look at how much money I have!" He made it rain. The money exploded.

John recovered from like his fifth heart attack that day. "You have a thing for explosions, don't you?"

Another text appeared next to his head. If inconvenient, come anyway. SH John tried to hit the letters. They punched him back.

John looked straight into the camera. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Potato cackled. "Welcome to London. We have small strange gays, drama queens in the government, eyes the size of the moon, and two year periods where time inexplicably stops. Enjoy your stay!"

"I've been here before, so you didn't need to say that."

"Foiled again!" Potato threw a smoke bomb and ran away, panting loudly the entire time.

John went back to the car that had taken him to the warehouse. The words Could be dangerous. SH did a sassy spin around his head before disappearing.

-A Certain Number of Minutes Later-

The car dropped him off at 221b Breaking Bad whatever. John hopped out, checked the gun in his pants, and knocked on the door.