"She does remind one of a witch, the sort from the German fairy tales. Don't you think Holmes?" I considered the appearance of our victim. Her skin was of a green pallor, her hair long and dark, and a large wart protruded from her rather prominent nose.
Her costume was of interest as well for she wore a tattered looking black dress, candy-striped stockings, and plain black shoes that curled at the toe. Unforgettable that her shoes were styled thusly, as it was the ghastly sight of those dangling legs that I think shall always mark my memories of these irregular events.
"Holmes?" I looked about the vivid and intriguing landscape, "I say, Holmes! Where the devil have you got to?"
"I'm up here, Watson. In the gumdrop tree." And so he was, his thin frame balanced precariously on the edge of a massive green leaf that looked to be made of coloured icing. The flora of the area was marked with a singular peculiarity of yielding various sweets and candies in the place of fruit. I found this instantly repugnant, and was uncertain whether any of it was edible. It surely would not have been a wise move to taste some and find out.
"Get out of that tree before you break your neck!" I barked forcefully at Holmes. This was no time for him to begin scampering around like a capuchin monkey.
"My neck is mine to break, Watson. You are not the boss of me!" He waved his left hand dismissively and leapt down from the sugary branch to land beside me with a resounding and curiously metallic thud. We both immediately began to observe the ground, our eyebrows arched in suspicion.
"Do you think we ought to start digging?" I enquired of Holmes, noting that his eyes now darted from the tree to the house.
"It is all very curious. The house for one, Watson. Observe the way it is tilted, just so; and though we are meant to believe it to be the home of Auntie Em, it is not. This can be verified by the exterior."
"My word, Holmes, whatever do you mean?"
"The paint. It is entirely dissimilar, save the shade of blue. It saddens me that though someone put an obviously strenuous amount of effort into creating this place, they did not see to the little things." Holmes sneered, stepped close to the partially collapsed building and clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
"Yes, but what of the ground, man!"
"The ground is but another sign pointing towards…" But before he could finish, we were rudely interrupted by the most bizarre sight to yet befall us.
Descending from the sky was a luminous pink orb, seemingly as dainty and easily destroyed as a flower petal. As it came more fully into the line of our vision, we were able to discern that a young woman, of some extraordinary loveliness, stood within. Reminiscent of a reflection caught in a gypsy's crystal ball.
To the dismay of both myself and Holmes, a loud twinkling noise overtook our ears. It was very much as though someone had knocked about an enormous set of wind chimes within one's head. This was coupled with an abrasive flash of pink light, which had, somewhat cruelly, caught us two off guard.
"Oh! Ye-eww! It's so bright! Ah!" Holmes groaned. I was merely relieved that I was not blind.
Once our eyesight had come back into focus, and the little fuzzy black dots went away, we were able to recognize the woman who had seemingly appeared trapped in the candy-floss bubble. She stood right before us now, in a very peculiarly styled gown more reminiscent of medieval poetry than of modern fashions. The crown alone made her look like a wayward chess piece, but she had a very kindly face and the most enchanting copper tones to her elaborately waved hair. Her pleasant appearance successfully distracted me from the fact that she had floated down through the sky.
"Follow your heart, that all your dreams may come true!" She said, almost as though she were supposed to sing the words. The cheerful sentiment caused a smile to mark my own lips, but when I turned to Holmes he looked decidedly less pleased with matters.
"My dear girl," Holmes began, "I trust you will purport to know exactly where we are?"
"Oh, but of course! We are in Oz!" The young lady exclaimed with much joy and compassion in her voice. It was then that I noticed the curious staff she had been using to punctuate her exclamations. Topped with a glittering silver star, it was almost as tall as she. Whatever could it be for, and why on earth was she just carrying it around?
"And where would Oz be?" Holmes spat the name of the place as though he were a cobra snapping to strike.
"Why, Oz is a fairy kingdom, Mr. Holmes…"
"I never told you my name. Do not have me believe that the renown of London consulting detectives has extended its way to the mystical lands of Hallucination." He seemed to be growing somewhat enraged, and though I was in no grand state myself, I hardly thought it appropriate to take it out on the young lady.
"Come now, Holmes. Let's not berate the poor girl." I said.
"Very well, Watson. Perhaps she would like to tell us more about what's going on? Miss…"
"I am Glinda! The Good Witch of the North!" She smiled with a twinkle of a laugh afterwards.
"Watson, could I speak with you behind the rainbow for a moment?"
"Yes of course. Excuse us, my dear." I said cordially. Miss Glinda watched with noticeable concern on her face as Holmes took me aside. One could tell immediately that he was edging nearer and nearer to his negative temper.
"I've only had two hours sleep. From what I've observed by climbing the gumdrop tree, this place – whatever it may be – goes for miles. There appears to be a massive collection of green buildings in the direction of this saffron-coloured path. We have a dead witch and a good witch, and I don't believe either of them are witches, Watson. I mean, come on! Miss Glinda clearly does not hail from the north! You only have to be offhandedly familiar with regional dialects to piece that one together!"
"Calm down, she might hear you…"
"No! This is madness and foolishness! I do not believe in witches!"
"Is this why we're over here? So that you can shout at me?" I stared at Holmes vituperatively for a long while. He was right about the foolishness - if I could get through any of this with my wits about me, he certainly had nothing to complain about. The bitter silence seemed to do us both a world of good, and though we had been thoroughly childish to one another, an unspoken agreement arose from the conflict. We would do our best to stay sane amidst the insane.
"I do apologise. It just strikes me as a cruel and underhanded blow to this investigation that nothing in this godforsaken place has the laws of rationality attached to it. Nonetheless, you and I shall persevere and find not only a way out of this deranged and nightmarish fantasy land, but see the murderer of the First Witch behind bars!"
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A/N: Woo-hoo! Go get that sinister madman, Holmes!
Okey-Dokey. If you like it then let me know. Also let me know why and what sorts of things you want me to include. I may or may not do so.
Thank You So Much for Reading!
P.S: Remember about the Viking Funeral - just in case the Wizard of Oz people come looking for me with torches…