"Holmes!" She flung the bag away from her and screeched out, "I'll kill
you!" She sprang from the bed and took a punch at him as he ducked and
clutched at his sides, doubling over. He was laughing so hard tears came
out of his eyes. Lestrade pounded at him mercilessly, but he landed on his
back and lay limp, still laughing. Beth straddled him and held the bag
inches from his face. "Apologize NOW or I'll dump all these snails on your
face!" She threatened. When Holmes wouldn't stop laughing, she growled
menacingly and grabbed his throat, which put an end to his hysterics. She
released him after satisfying her anger without committing homicide and he
spoke with gasps for air in between his phrases.
"My. dear. Lestrade! The . French . refer to them as escargot!" He burst into laughs again and Lestrade demanded to know what snails had to do with the investigation of Moriarty. "It has nothing to do with it at all!" Holmes looked as though he would burst out again, but continued, "Well, maybe it does, because I won't tell you what I found today until you eat those . bugs." He had an insufferable grin on his face, and Lestrade was about to throttle him again but he stopped her with a reminder that she did nothing to help him in his investigation.
Beth Lestrade looked with disgust at the snail in its shell which Holmes handed her - long dead, of course, after being cooked in some strange- smelling herb - and the little pick used to pluck the snail out to eat. Lestrade grimaced before popping the slug into her mouth, chewing twice, than forcing it down her throat. It was chewy like a mushroom, but she didn't bite down on it too much -she'd probably throw up if it were in her mouth too long. She gulped down a glass of water to rid her mouth of the taste, hacked twice, and then waited impatiently for Holmes to begin. But he shook his head with a mock look of disapproval and pointed to the other snail in the bag. He raised two fingers teasingly and leaned back from his place on the ground, clearly enjoying Lestrade's moment of helplessness. Only when she had finished the second snail, in the same method as the first, did he start his talk.
"Now, the purpose of this bug."Lestrade glared at him and he tugged at his collar sheepishly, "Oops! Sorry, Lestrade! Ahem, the purpose of the virus is to - or, in fact, was to - hack into the robot's control system and substitute its usual program (which, by the way, included proper etiquette) with the program outlined in the virus. This program biased the robot's judgment so that it would keep an eye out for our hovercraft - identified by the license plate located so conspicuously on the back of our vehicle. Once it located us, it would choose some excuse to confront us, then arrest us, even if it was on the pettiest of charges. Some time would be wasted before we'd be set free again, giving Moriarty and his henchman time to get away from the scene without us following them.
"It became apparent from the first that, although it did its job efficiently, this chip is not manufactured by a factory. Its simple construction and lack of a factory symbol - and I even had it examined with a high power microscope analyzer - added to and confirmed my hypothesis that somebody made this virus by themselves, in the comfort of their own home. This conclusion meant that we weren't dealing with a big company tycoon - just a simple person with some knowledge of robots and computers. After much thought I remembered Fenwick and the way he got our attention. My mind immediately and subconsciously memorized the license plate, and I'm now sure that it wasn't chance that put him in our path. I checked all the vehicle rental companies, and at one of them I was lucky enough to find a clerk who submitted easily to bribery.
"He confirmed that Fenwick - not bothering to use an alias because he had no doubt that the two of us would never track him down - had rented a car and returned it in a few days time. Before I left I tipped the man again, and he told me in a comforting English accent, 'I like you, sir, and although the ugly fellow surely wouldn't want me to tell anybody this, he also reserved cars in many of our United States branches.' Next the clerk handed me a list of the branches, when the hovercrafts would be rented, and the license numbers that he got by hacking into the company files at my request.
"I then went to the address shown on the books that Fenwick had written down in case he needed to be contacted, but it turned out to be owned by a ghastly woman who drove me out of the establishment with a broomstick when I attempted to induce her." Holmes' face was a humorous picture of injured arrogance, as if the broomstick itself had hurt his pride. Lestrade sat still for a moment, thinking the newest information over, and she stood with her usual energy.
"But we've got the list, and I suggest we leave Paris as soon as possible to begin our next adventure." And they began packing in silence.
"My. dear. Lestrade! The . French . refer to them as escargot!" He burst into laughs again and Lestrade demanded to know what snails had to do with the investigation of Moriarty. "It has nothing to do with it at all!" Holmes looked as though he would burst out again, but continued, "Well, maybe it does, because I won't tell you what I found today until you eat those . bugs." He had an insufferable grin on his face, and Lestrade was about to throttle him again but he stopped her with a reminder that she did nothing to help him in his investigation.
Beth Lestrade looked with disgust at the snail in its shell which Holmes handed her - long dead, of course, after being cooked in some strange- smelling herb - and the little pick used to pluck the snail out to eat. Lestrade grimaced before popping the slug into her mouth, chewing twice, than forcing it down her throat. It was chewy like a mushroom, but she didn't bite down on it too much -she'd probably throw up if it were in her mouth too long. She gulped down a glass of water to rid her mouth of the taste, hacked twice, and then waited impatiently for Holmes to begin. But he shook his head with a mock look of disapproval and pointed to the other snail in the bag. He raised two fingers teasingly and leaned back from his place on the ground, clearly enjoying Lestrade's moment of helplessness. Only when she had finished the second snail, in the same method as the first, did he start his talk.
"Now, the purpose of this bug."Lestrade glared at him and he tugged at his collar sheepishly, "Oops! Sorry, Lestrade! Ahem, the purpose of the virus is to - or, in fact, was to - hack into the robot's control system and substitute its usual program (which, by the way, included proper etiquette) with the program outlined in the virus. This program biased the robot's judgment so that it would keep an eye out for our hovercraft - identified by the license plate located so conspicuously on the back of our vehicle. Once it located us, it would choose some excuse to confront us, then arrest us, even if it was on the pettiest of charges. Some time would be wasted before we'd be set free again, giving Moriarty and his henchman time to get away from the scene without us following them.
"It became apparent from the first that, although it did its job efficiently, this chip is not manufactured by a factory. Its simple construction and lack of a factory symbol - and I even had it examined with a high power microscope analyzer - added to and confirmed my hypothesis that somebody made this virus by themselves, in the comfort of their own home. This conclusion meant that we weren't dealing with a big company tycoon - just a simple person with some knowledge of robots and computers. After much thought I remembered Fenwick and the way he got our attention. My mind immediately and subconsciously memorized the license plate, and I'm now sure that it wasn't chance that put him in our path. I checked all the vehicle rental companies, and at one of them I was lucky enough to find a clerk who submitted easily to bribery.
"He confirmed that Fenwick - not bothering to use an alias because he had no doubt that the two of us would never track him down - had rented a car and returned it in a few days time. Before I left I tipped the man again, and he told me in a comforting English accent, 'I like you, sir, and although the ugly fellow surely wouldn't want me to tell anybody this, he also reserved cars in many of our United States branches.' Next the clerk handed me a list of the branches, when the hovercrafts would be rented, and the license numbers that he got by hacking into the company files at my request.
"I then went to the address shown on the books that Fenwick had written down in case he needed to be contacted, but it turned out to be owned by a ghastly woman who drove me out of the establishment with a broomstick when I attempted to induce her." Holmes' face was a humorous picture of injured arrogance, as if the broomstick itself had hurt his pride. Lestrade sat still for a moment, thinking the newest information over, and she stood with her usual energy.
"But we've got the list, and I suggest we leave Paris as soon as possible to begin our next adventure." And they began packing in silence.