[Author's note: *j.r. creeps on slowly, monty (temporarily referred to as
dom since monty is, actually, a shadow demon. He will be putting that
skill into effect, as up until recently he has been a . je ne sais quoi.)
has a list of notes*
*j.r. reads them in disgust, finally handing them back* dom: well, let's hear YOUR excuse for not updating! Humph.
*j.r.: eh heh heh. -_-;; I GOT MY OWN MONTY PYTHON SET! YAY! (dom: no excuse for your procrastinating, they'll say)
UHHHH. I like Michael Palin the best? (dom: still no excuse, they'll say)
MMMM. I'm also obsessively obsessed with Dom? (dom: hehe- AHEM! still no excuse, they'll say. *pauses* and they'll tell you to learn proper English too.)
WELLLL.. Tengo mucho tarea esta semana! (dom: @_@) *j.r. turns to audience in a Roger-Days'-got-a-hedgehog-called-Frank manner (monty python.. sorry.. hehe)* Also, I've become obsessed with rings. Dom: Go figure, eh? Auk-hem. Anyway. Angelina809 and I were talking, and we both expressed unrestrained hatred for the Mary Russell "books" by Laurie King. So she's writing a ficcy about Mary vs. Lestrade, and it's got much Mary bashing, so beware! And it was brainstorming that ficcy that I got back in the mood to type! Lucky you.]
"Walk faster." Sherlock Holmes ordered. Lestrade obeyed, making sure to keep up with Holmes' long stride. His legs were too long for her, so she broke out into a light jog. However, Holmes took it the wrong way and started running too, which made her run faster, which made him run faster, et cetera, et cetera; he thought her running meant she knew what was going on and had classified it as an emergency.
As they rounded the corner they almost collided head on with the sleazy pair Holmes had seen before. "You!" was all that Holmes could utter before the pair dashed off. Now the sleuth ran for the chase, although THEIR pursuers didn't know that. The Great Detective's highly trained skills in track pulled him ahead, and luckily Lestrade wasn't too far behind. Finally, getting annoyed by the hounds on her trail, Lestrade lagged back on another corner and knocked them unconscious with a well-aimed punch. Then she caught up with Holmes, bent over, his lips sealed, his brow knitted in annoyance. He suppressed a groan as Lestrade cocked her head at him questioningly. It seems he had lost the sleazy ones after they knocked over a large massage table.
It had hit him in a very inconvenient place indeed.
Beth approached him with caution. Ambling up alongside him, she murmured, "Any idea where they went?"
Holmes looked at her impatiently and shushed her. Half hurt, half curious, Lestrade looked around slowly: the only thing in sight was the outside world of Alaska, still bright and merry with insulated lights. Children ran around with skates in their hands, all wrapped up for another day in their Iceland paradise. Breaking his own concentration as well as hers, the detective inquired where their pursuers had gone. Her smile was all he needed for an answer, and he groaned to himself again. Another problem to explain to the local police! Just forget it, he thought to himself; this is one puddle of quagmire that the Inspector will have to get herself out of!
Straightening up slowly with a grunt, Holmes limped over to the door, his hand still applying pressure to the sensitive spot, and took in the scene with his sharp pale eyes. Lestrade, mind completely blank, looked over to Holmes with a weak smile and a plead for help. Rolling his eyes at her most stupid move of the day, the detective proceeded to follow the only pair of footprints that led from the back door of the parlor. As soon as he was out of range, Lestrade kicked herself.
Ignoring the cheerful laughter of Alaskan children, Holmes kept following the footprints; even past places where countless little feet had trodden the snow to mush, Holmes the bloodhound would pick up the scent again in no time. Lestrade tagged along behind him with an air of someone who's gone through the same routine too many times. They finally found themselves at the ice rink, where thick slabs of scratched marble surrounded a glittering field of translucent starlight.
It would be impossible to find the villains in this lot.
Holmes concentrated hard as he threaded his way through the crowd. Lestrade was right behind him, hand ready at her ionizer. She hoped they could just find the bastards soon so that she could return to the hotel for a nice warm bath!
*********************
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Melanie Dawson asked skeptically. Fenwick shushed her with a deformed glare. "Of course it will! My son is never wrong. And we have followed his plan to the letter!" He removed the delicate fire crystals from his pocket, where they had nestled as he escaped the nosy detectives. They had given his entire body a blanket of warmth, and Fenwick was reluctant to remove them from his person. But he had to. Besides, Dawson was watching him closely, eyebrows arched suspiciously. Suddenly she straightened up, neck craned high at somebody in the crowd. Ducking down again, she hissed with annoyance, "Those zedding Yardies are still on our trail." She knitted her face in concentration, and the creases smoothed out into a sly smile as she calculated a plan in her mind.
"Give me those crystals." She ordered. Fenwick, ever trusting, handed them over as instructed, and the woman crept silently to the edge of the ice rink and pressed the warm crystals into the ice. Finding so little heat in the immediate area, the crystals spread energy through the whole cold area of ice.
Now, those crystals were supposed to be kept in a special compartment in whichever building they were sold to. Included were an explicit set of instructions that stressed the importance of keeping the crystals in their rightful place. That way, the building would always be warm, and also, no harm would come to the heatless world of Alaska. The crystals were manufactured to spread heat as far as it could. The buildings it lay in were coated with a special type of metal so as to keep the heat in and prevent the outside snow from melting. But once outside the crystals could cause extensive damage. Which was why they were so expensive and so hard to get: much paperwork was needed, and the consequence of bringing one of these crystals outside levied a heavy fine that only the richest officials could pay.
So when Melanie Dawson brushed the ice rink with the heat crystals, the ice immediately began to melt, and crack as if a large stone had been hammered into it. She stood and stretched nonchalantly as the first skaters began to notice something was terribly wrong. As screams echoed through the air, she turned to Fenwick with a smile and yawned, "Well, that should keep them busy."
*********************
Holmes was having no success finding the two culprits. And that confused him. Their descriptions were so noticeable, so grotesque and unparalleled in all his years as a detective, he would've thought that even a corner of their person would be easier to spot than the grey hairs on Grayson's head. But he was obviously mistaken. Lestrade, seeing him at a dead end for once, decided to employ a classic trick she had been taught at the Academy many years back.
"'When you find yourself facing a dead end,'" she recited out loud, "'review what you know with a friend.'" (Dom: really dumb rhyme, I know, but hey!) Holmes, ashamed to be using Yardie tricks, ignored his partner, but lent her an ear as she proceeded to look back on the day's events.
"Ok, so tell me if you see something in this that I don't: we are at a massage parlor, mistaken for thieves, see the real thieves, chase after them, and lose them in the crowd. Now appearance wise, -" But Lestrade was interrupted by her partner's spastic gasp.
"What the devil!" He exclaimed as a loud crack rang through their ears. Lestrade screamed involuntarily. As he rushed to save the skaters on the rink, two familiar people caught Holmes' eye. Turning around to get a better look, Holmes choked in surprise at the back of Fenwick and Melanie Dawson. But it was no time for regret. He had to help Lestrade move the Alaskans to safety.
"GET OFF THE ICE!!!!" The New Londoners shouted frantically. They rushed onto the rink to rush the little ones off, and to help those in need while trying to avoid the now super-thin ice. Holmes was in the middle of the whole mess when the biggest crack yet reached his ears, and he heard a cry of surprise cut short by a splash.
"LESTRADE!"
[*Groggy j.r. steps out* Just finished this fic and it's 3AM in the morning. But I promised you guys I'd finish it by tomorrow, even if it meant missing RotK. Luckily I didn't procrastinate THAT much. And lucky for you me fellow LOTR obsessive kept me up all night w/ her fantasies. ( Dom: pwahaha. A cliffy for your thoughts? : D Anyhow, me and me friend are loony about Dom and Billy, so you'll be sure to see more of them soon, esp. since they'll be appearing on a mardi gras float soon. And in real life as well! : D Read and review!!!!]
*j.r. reads them in disgust, finally handing them back* dom: well, let's hear YOUR excuse for not updating! Humph.
*j.r.: eh heh heh. -_-;; I GOT MY OWN MONTY PYTHON SET! YAY! (dom: no excuse for your procrastinating, they'll say)
UHHHH. I like Michael Palin the best? (dom: still no excuse, they'll say)
MMMM. I'm also obsessively obsessed with Dom? (dom: hehe- AHEM! still no excuse, they'll say. *pauses* and they'll tell you to learn proper English too.)
WELLLL.. Tengo mucho tarea esta semana! (dom: @_@) *j.r. turns to audience in a Roger-Days'-got-a-hedgehog-called-Frank manner (monty python.. sorry.. hehe)* Also, I've become obsessed with rings. Dom: Go figure, eh? Auk-hem. Anyway. Angelina809 and I were talking, and we both expressed unrestrained hatred for the Mary Russell "books" by Laurie King. So she's writing a ficcy about Mary vs. Lestrade, and it's got much Mary bashing, so beware! And it was brainstorming that ficcy that I got back in the mood to type! Lucky you.]
"Walk faster." Sherlock Holmes ordered. Lestrade obeyed, making sure to keep up with Holmes' long stride. His legs were too long for her, so she broke out into a light jog. However, Holmes took it the wrong way and started running too, which made her run faster, which made him run faster, et cetera, et cetera; he thought her running meant she knew what was going on and had classified it as an emergency.
As they rounded the corner they almost collided head on with the sleazy pair Holmes had seen before. "You!" was all that Holmes could utter before the pair dashed off. Now the sleuth ran for the chase, although THEIR pursuers didn't know that. The Great Detective's highly trained skills in track pulled him ahead, and luckily Lestrade wasn't too far behind. Finally, getting annoyed by the hounds on her trail, Lestrade lagged back on another corner and knocked them unconscious with a well-aimed punch. Then she caught up with Holmes, bent over, his lips sealed, his brow knitted in annoyance. He suppressed a groan as Lestrade cocked her head at him questioningly. It seems he had lost the sleazy ones after they knocked over a large massage table.
It had hit him in a very inconvenient place indeed.
Beth approached him with caution. Ambling up alongside him, she murmured, "Any idea where they went?"
Holmes looked at her impatiently and shushed her. Half hurt, half curious, Lestrade looked around slowly: the only thing in sight was the outside world of Alaska, still bright and merry with insulated lights. Children ran around with skates in their hands, all wrapped up for another day in their Iceland paradise. Breaking his own concentration as well as hers, the detective inquired where their pursuers had gone. Her smile was all he needed for an answer, and he groaned to himself again. Another problem to explain to the local police! Just forget it, he thought to himself; this is one puddle of quagmire that the Inspector will have to get herself out of!
Straightening up slowly with a grunt, Holmes limped over to the door, his hand still applying pressure to the sensitive spot, and took in the scene with his sharp pale eyes. Lestrade, mind completely blank, looked over to Holmes with a weak smile and a plead for help. Rolling his eyes at her most stupid move of the day, the detective proceeded to follow the only pair of footprints that led from the back door of the parlor. As soon as he was out of range, Lestrade kicked herself.
Ignoring the cheerful laughter of Alaskan children, Holmes kept following the footprints; even past places where countless little feet had trodden the snow to mush, Holmes the bloodhound would pick up the scent again in no time. Lestrade tagged along behind him with an air of someone who's gone through the same routine too many times. They finally found themselves at the ice rink, where thick slabs of scratched marble surrounded a glittering field of translucent starlight.
It would be impossible to find the villains in this lot.
Holmes concentrated hard as he threaded his way through the crowd. Lestrade was right behind him, hand ready at her ionizer. She hoped they could just find the bastards soon so that she could return to the hotel for a nice warm bath!
*********************
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Melanie Dawson asked skeptically. Fenwick shushed her with a deformed glare. "Of course it will! My son is never wrong. And we have followed his plan to the letter!" He removed the delicate fire crystals from his pocket, where they had nestled as he escaped the nosy detectives. They had given his entire body a blanket of warmth, and Fenwick was reluctant to remove them from his person. But he had to. Besides, Dawson was watching him closely, eyebrows arched suspiciously. Suddenly she straightened up, neck craned high at somebody in the crowd. Ducking down again, she hissed with annoyance, "Those zedding Yardies are still on our trail." She knitted her face in concentration, and the creases smoothed out into a sly smile as she calculated a plan in her mind.
"Give me those crystals." She ordered. Fenwick, ever trusting, handed them over as instructed, and the woman crept silently to the edge of the ice rink and pressed the warm crystals into the ice. Finding so little heat in the immediate area, the crystals spread energy through the whole cold area of ice.
Now, those crystals were supposed to be kept in a special compartment in whichever building they were sold to. Included were an explicit set of instructions that stressed the importance of keeping the crystals in their rightful place. That way, the building would always be warm, and also, no harm would come to the heatless world of Alaska. The crystals were manufactured to spread heat as far as it could. The buildings it lay in were coated with a special type of metal so as to keep the heat in and prevent the outside snow from melting. But once outside the crystals could cause extensive damage. Which was why they were so expensive and so hard to get: much paperwork was needed, and the consequence of bringing one of these crystals outside levied a heavy fine that only the richest officials could pay.
So when Melanie Dawson brushed the ice rink with the heat crystals, the ice immediately began to melt, and crack as if a large stone had been hammered into it. She stood and stretched nonchalantly as the first skaters began to notice something was terribly wrong. As screams echoed through the air, she turned to Fenwick with a smile and yawned, "Well, that should keep them busy."
*********************
Holmes was having no success finding the two culprits. And that confused him. Their descriptions were so noticeable, so grotesque and unparalleled in all his years as a detective, he would've thought that even a corner of their person would be easier to spot than the grey hairs on Grayson's head. But he was obviously mistaken. Lestrade, seeing him at a dead end for once, decided to employ a classic trick she had been taught at the Academy many years back.
"'When you find yourself facing a dead end,'" she recited out loud, "'review what you know with a friend.'" (Dom: really dumb rhyme, I know, but hey!) Holmes, ashamed to be using Yardie tricks, ignored his partner, but lent her an ear as she proceeded to look back on the day's events.
"Ok, so tell me if you see something in this that I don't: we are at a massage parlor, mistaken for thieves, see the real thieves, chase after them, and lose them in the crowd. Now appearance wise, -" But Lestrade was interrupted by her partner's spastic gasp.
"What the devil!" He exclaimed as a loud crack rang through their ears. Lestrade screamed involuntarily. As he rushed to save the skaters on the rink, two familiar people caught Holmes' eye. Turning around to get a better look, Holmes choked in surprise at the back of Fenwick and Melanie Dawson. But it was no time for regret. He had to help Lestrade move the Alaskans to safety.
"GET OFF THE ICE!!!!" The New Londoners shouted frantically. They rushed onto the rink to rush the little ones off, and to help those in need while trying to avoid the now super-thin ice. Holmes was in the middle of the whole mess when the biggest crack yet reached his ears, and he heard a cry of surprise cut short by a splash.
"LESTRADE!"
[*Groggy j.r. steps out* Just finished this fic and it's 3AM in the morning. But I promised you guys I'd finish it by tomorrow, even if it meant missing RotK. Luckily I didn't procrastinate THAT much. And lucky for you me fellow LOTR obsessive kept me up all night w/ her fantasies. ( Dom: pwahaha. A cliffy for your thoughts? : D Anyhow, me and me friend are loony about Dom and Billy, so you'll be sure to see more of them soon, esp. since they'll be appearing on a mardi gras float soon. And in real life as well! : D Read and review!!!!]