Name: Sherlock Holmes

Vehicle: Watson (Sherlock may not be all that familiar with these newfangled 'cars' that are being used in this competition, but from what he can tell, people tend to value them more than the horses and buggies he's used to seeing and treat them like partners of sorts. As such, the Great Detective found it only fitting to name his new Aston Martin DB5 after his roommate and assistant, Iris Watson, in order to celebrate their friendship and unbreakable bond… and because it was her main stipulation when he asked her to outfit it with a couple of upgrades.)

Vehicle Armor: 5/5 (If Sherlock dies, then whose antics will Iris use as inspiration for her stories? As such, the young wunderkind has made it a point to make Sherlock's vehicle as armored as its driver is spontaneous.)

Vehicle Speed: 5/5 (In addition to getting an MD at age 10, becoming a famed author, inventing numerous gadgets, and making sure that Sherlock doesn't attempt to use a stove and burn down their flat, Iris has managed to upgrade his car- a piece of technology that she has never seen before- so that it can reach speeds comparable to that of a racecar.)

Vehicle Handling: Tight (Now can you see why Sherlock was more than happy to name this vehicle after his lovely assistant?)

Special Weapon: 3/5 (Fog of London- Adding onto Iris' impressive list of feats, she has managed to bring a little piece of London to Debauched Steel by outfitting Sherlock's vehicle with a device that launches capsules that, upon hitting the ground, unleash a thick cloud of fog that covers a large area and obscures the sight of any drivers caught inside. Though fortunately for Sherlock, Iris made his headlights strong enough in order to not make it a hindrance for him. After all, Sherlock has enough trouble figuring things out when his vision isn't compromised.)

Bio: Allow me to introduce myself. I am a man known around the globe; the world's greatest, most famous, and handsomest detective: the famous Sherlock Holmes! Perhaps you've heard of my grand adventures…? Wait, you think I'm playing make-believe…? Surely you jest! While my achievements could be considered legendary, I promise you that I am very much real. But that's not important. Apparently, I've been transported to a dystopian future of sorts that's ruled by an iron-fisted tyrant and it's up to me to clean up yet another mess.


"I guess it is true: the Devil is handsome." Sherlock muses with a smirk as he stands face-to-face with Kristoph Gavin, the host of Debauched Steel who possesses the power to give him, the winner of the competition, nearly anything his heart desires.

"Thank you for the compliment." Kristoph replies with a warm grin. "Though it shouldn't be much of a surprise considering our relationship. After all, I'm your- What's so funny?" Kristoph asks with a confused look on his face as the Great Detective starts laughing in an over-the-top fashion that comes off as an eerie combination of Klavier's laugh and his own.

"I'm sorry…" Sherlock chuckles before regaining his composure. "It's just that I find it humorous that you believe that I didn't figure out how you're associated with me within the first five seconds of us meeting."

"Well, color me impressed." Kristoph replies with much praise in his voice. "I knew that you were a genius for obvious reasons, but to gain a solid grasp of the situation so quickly is truly a commendable feat."

"What can I say?" Sherlock shrugs. "They don't call me "The Great Detective" for nothing. But then again, I don't think that it takes a great detective to tell that you are…"

"I know." Kristoph smirks. "Mother always made it a point to tell me and my brother just how much we resem-"

"A love-struck- albeit mentally unsound- homosexual man who is so infatuated with me that that he has went to great lengths to make his face and hair color the same as mine so as to help him cope with the fact that he will never have the opportunity to make sweet love to the Great Detective!" The famed investigator proclaims with a raised finger, causing Kristoph's eyes to become saucer-sized as he reeled back out of shock.

"WHAT!" Kristoph shrieks as he reels back with saucer-sized eyes. "Are you mad!?"

"Mad as a fox!" Sherlock remarks as he confidently pushes the rim of his cap up with a quick flick of his wrist. "For it would appear that by the clear look of surprise in your eyes, I seem to have hit the nail on the head!"

"If there's a look of surprise in my eyes, it's because I didn't expect you, the great Sherlock Holmes, to say something so outrageously incorrect!" Kristoph snarls. "If those remarks are any indication of the kind of 'conclusions' you'd come up with in your days as an investigator, then there's no doubt that the even bigger surprise here is how you were never thrown into a rubber room!"

"How can something be insane when it's so obvious, Mr. Gavin?" Sherlock shrugs. "I have to say, whatever medical sciences you have at your disposal in this time period are truly remarkable. But unfortunately, for you, Mr. Gavin, no science can hide the truth from a great detective. From the moment I laid my eyes upon you, I immediately noticed three things that gave away your true nature: First, your hands. No straight man has hands that soft and nails that well-manicured! Seconds, your long, luscious locks. While a number of men throughout the course of history have sported long hair, none of them have gone through the effort you have to painstakingly style it into a tight drill-shaped braid. And finally we have your suit- PURPLE, a color worn by women and the flamboyant! But that's not all, Mr. Gavin…" The Great Detective smirks as he brings his pipe to his mouth.

"Well, I don't want to hear any more!" Kristoph angrily retorts with a look of pure mortification on his face, only for his pleas to fall on deaf ears as the famed investigator continues his reasoning.

"After talking to several of the other contestants, I learned that you stalked several men for almost a decade, as well as killed a man with poison and attempted to do the same to his daughter; and last I checked, the only people who use poison as a weapon are women and cowards. So with that, I can safely say that you're a male admirer of mine. Though unfortunately for you, while I have nothing against your kind, I don't swing that way. Sorry!" Sherlock shrugs.

"Why does everyone think that I'm a homosexual!?" Kristoph roars with crossed arms, his nostrils flaring as his left eye started to twitch. "You, Luke Atmey back in the 35th universe that this episode was filmed in, that vile woman who spreads horrible rumors regarding my fantasies…! Have none of you uncultured, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing troglodytes ever heard of the term 'metrosexual'!?"

"Metrosexual…?" Sherlock asks with a confused look on his face as he cocks his head to the side. "How exactly does that work? Do you get intimate with men in a dark alley? Do you rub yourself against the tallest building you can find like a cat in heat? Or do you just simply lie down in the street, pull down your trousers, and-"

"I can't believe that I'm hearing this!" Kristoph angrily interjects as he glowers at the famed detective. "And from my own ancestor, nonetheless!"

"Wait, I'm your ancestor?" Sherlock asks with a look on his face that can only be described as a mixture of shock and intrigue.

"Yes, my maternal great-great grandfather, to be specific." Kristoph calmly responds with a hint of coldness in his voice as he pushes his glasses up. "Though after hearing your so-called 'deductions' just now, I'm starting to seriously doubt that."

"That tone, that pose, the fact that you killed a magician, an artist, and attempted to murder a young girl for the sake of revenge… Of course!" Sherlock exclaims with a raised finger. "How did I not see it before? You're a flamboyant version of my older brother, Mycroft!"

"Objection!" Kristoph shouts. "Those last two accusations were nothing but malicious lies that were only backed by circumstantial evidence and fabricated with the sole intent of striking me down!"

"Funny." Sherlock chuckles with a slight hint of sorrow. "That's exactly what Mycroft said when he was put on trial for what he did to those five poor girls in Whitechapel... But even if you didn't try to kill a small family whose only crime- other than the forgeries, that is- was assisting you in your revenge plan, it would seem that you aren't denying killing that magician."

"I will not hide the fact that I killed Zak Gramarye." Kristoph states matter-of-factly. "He was a monster of a man and a plight to society as a whole. I did the world a favor by putting that man down like the dirty beast that his is. I should be thanked, heralded as a hero, but does my good deed go rewarded? No! I get branded a villain and wrongfully incarcerated!" The demented host snarls.

"Once again, that's almost exactly what Mycroft said- only this time, it's what he was yelling when they led him up to the gallows…" Sherlock sighs, his gaze pointed to the ground as grief fills his green eyes. "Mr. Gavin, or rather, Kristoph, can I please make my wish now"

"Of course." Kristoph responds with a nod. "What do you desire?"

"I want to play a song on my violin." The Great Detective sullenly voices.

"That's all…?" Kristoph asks with a confused look on his face. "No wish to showcase your investigating prowess in the modern day? No urge to be endlessly praised for your genius? No desire to learn all the secrets of the universe?"

"'That's all…?'" Sherlock seethes under his breath, his posture hunched over and his hands clenched as though he's trying to strangle the air around him. "Oh, my naïve descendant, how you hurt me so! Do you know nothing of sentimentality?! Of nostalgia?! Of the value of bliss and joy?!" The famed detective exclaims as he flashes a variety of poses.

"Actually, I did… that is, until I met a certain meddlesome, worthless pest who decided to reject my offers of kindness and friendship by having me arrested for murder and then proceeding to use me a stepping stone so that he could derail the entire legal system for his own personal gain." Kristoph snidely responds with a venomous tone as he pushes his glasses up. "And to think, the women of the fanbase rave over that devious, conniving miscreant and treat him like he's God's gift to man while calling me a 'dildo' on the grounds that I apparently 'act like a dick, but am not real enough'. But I digress…" The demented host of Debauched Steel sighs in exasperation before a smile returns to his face. "Your wish is granted."

The host of Debauched Steel raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, a toothy grin spreads across Sherlock's face upon seeing his beloved violin in his hands.

"My violin!" The famed detective exclaims with joy as he presses the instrument against his chest. "I can't believe that I've been reunited with it in this strange dystopian future! Not only that, but I swear it somehow looks better than when I last saw it!"

"What can I say? I treat my family's prized artifacts well." Kristoph smirks. "In fact, I didn't even need to use my powers to bring that violin to you since I proudly store it in an air-tight case in my private study aboard my dirigible. So, what do you plan on playing? Mozart? Bach? Gesualdo?"

"None of them!" Sherlock boldly proclaims as he strikes a pose. "After all, where's the fun in playing someone else's music? No, for you, my effeminate descendant, I'm going to make things right by playing a little something that you've had coming for quite some time." The scatterbrained investigator remarks with a slightly sinister undertone.

Without further delay, Sherlock readies his violin, gently pressing the bottom against the side of his neck with one hand and, with one slow, methodical stroke of his other arm, causes the bow to gently glide across the instruments tout, finely tuned strings, causing a melodious high note to fill the air.

For a brief second, Sherlock pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he prepares himself for what he's about to do next. He doesn't want to go through with this plan since to do such a thing would go against his very nature- especially when said plan involves his descendant. Sure, this Kristoph man could be a lunatic who is under the delusion that he is a descendant of the detective London has seen, but Sherlock knows better. He knows the darkness that lurks in his family, the unspeakable evils that his brother subjected London and those five women to, and that- from what he's heard- this crazed host who smells way too much like flowers than any man should is the very embodiment of them.

So with his resolve steeled, Sherlock proceeds to quickly raise the violin above his head, using the heavy oak that gives the instrument its rich, deep sound to deliver a fatal blow to Kristoph's head, instantly killing the host of Debauched Steel and destroying the cherished instrument in the process.

Dropping what's left of his beloved violin on the ground next to him, Sherlock simply stares down Kristoph's corpse and shakes his head, noting how it limply lays in a pool of its own blood, not with the deranged smile of a madman like one would expect, but with a wide-eyed look of shock and betrayal.

Feeling as if he has so much that he wants to say, yet can't find the words to properly express his feelings, Sherlock simply gives his descendant one final fleeting look of disappointment before slowly making his way back to his vehicle and driving off to parts unknown; all the while, leaving Kristoph's cameraman in a state of dumfounded shock, still filming his employer's fresh corpse as he himself stares at it, before regaining his senses and pushing a button on his camera, causing a picture of Kristoph in his deranged breakdown pose, against a solid grey background, with a caption underneath it that reads 'WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES…' to appear on screen for the viewers at home.


A/N: I would like to thank the guest who commented on Chapter 37 for suggesting the idea for this chapter.

Though speaking of comments, I would like to apologize to s3731997 for not responding to their review back in Chapter 36. So to make things right, I'll do it here.

s3731997: I don't want to give too much away and ruin the fun, but let's just say that "Pick Your Poison!" will be playing a big role in Blaise's chapter.