The Adventure of the Man of D.
I: Luffy D. Monkey
From the Notes of Dr J. H. Watson, dated June 1889
It was a cool summer of 1889 that the case of the Thousand Sunny happened to my erstwhile friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes. I was not present at its inception, having been occupied with my practice in the wake of the usual rounds of summer colds that went around every year ad thus rendering your humble doctor in London instead of accompanying the missus to Hampshire on a familial visit. The oath I swore before a plethora of defunct deities in university continues to hold fast.
It was upon an hour prior to the closing of my practice, that the doorbell rang, and I opened the door to see, to my very great surprise, the ferrety face of Inspector Lestrade, of the London Metropolitan Police.
"Doctor Watson, do you have time to spare?" Lestrade was on edge, I could tell. "Please, say that you have time to spare! A man has died in police custody!"
I do not know the usual reaction for such, but I do believe that it was only decent to follow. I therefore closed my practice ahead of schedule, took the bag containing the tools of my trade, and followed Lestrade on the police coach awaiting me. Barely have I stepped in that I beheld the familiar sight of my old friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes.
"Holmes!" I cried out. "Why, I thought you would be here."
"The man who was supposedly dead, as Lestrade claims but I do not believe, is the sole witness in the case I am currently investigating." Grey eyes twinkled at he as he spoke. "Indeed, he has only recently agreed for a doctor to see to him, all the time having barred in the Bow Street cells."
"I highly doubt that Scotland Yard would refuse treatment to a witness," I observed.
"They did not," my friend agreed. "Apparently, the man barricaded himself into a cell and refused any and all contact, save for food, and lots of it. I am of the mind that he is plotting something with the chicken had I not seen the remains of the carcass myself. Besides his contact for meals in such a fashion, and despite the cell's nature being that of a shared one, what few prisoners we have managed to rescue refused any and all description of him, save that he of a masterful disposition. It was only my being made aware of his injuries and after much persuasion on Lestrade's did he agree to see a doctor, and even then only a trustworthy one. Naturally I thought of you. Anyone may be trusted to tend to cuts, but never have you failed me, Watson."
I nodded, touched by this gesture of faith. "Why on earth would a prisoner barricade himself in a prison, anyway?"
"Constable Ross arrested him on charges of eating in a restaurant without paying," Lestrade reported. "The usual treatment such people get is a night in the cells, but the man had taken a shine to the food, or it's the only place where food is freely available to him, I don't know which, for he has planted himself there. The Bow Street cells are thus infected with a veritable black hole with a taste towards meat of any persuasion. I once made the mistake of giving him half my lunch pie out of sympathy, and needless to say I went hungry that day. I would go as far as to say that the man is insane, such that he cannot give his own name when asked."
"But why have you allowed him to remain in the cells?" my friend pointed out. "I have not seen him myself, but I own that even with height and girth, there is no way a lone man could stand up to Yarders armed with truncheons and fists to manhandle him out."
"Every Yarder that went in was quickly sent flying out." Lestrade honestly answered. "We originally transferred him in from the Tower Hill cells, so perhaps he might have taken a shine to the food of Bow Street."
"There is nothing we can do now save for speculation," my friend pointed out. "Let us turn our minds to other things. Lestrade, I see you and the missus are expecting a new addition to the household."
The inspector glanced at my friend, askance, before we passed the trip in relative silence and finally stopped at the Bow Street cells, where the sad Mr Neville St Clair has once spent up to a week. We were led past a passage, a barred door, down a winding stair, and then to a line of whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side. One particular door bore a pair of constables as guards, with the most awful moaning sounds known to man being sounded behind the wood. Judging from the pained expressions from either men, they knew perfectly well how awful the sound was.
"It sounds like a foghorn," I remarked as I slowly approached the door. "Are you sure it's not a whale behind that?"
"Quite," Lestrade was already jingling the keys in his rush to unlock and unbolt the cell door. "Mr Holmes, regulations state that only one visitor at a time is allowed in."
The door swung open, the foghorn moaning growing ever louder as I tentatively stepped inside, guided by a lamp borrowed from one of the constables.
The man was... not what I had expected. When Lestrade had been regaling my friend and I concerning the sole witness of some murders along the Spitalfields market. As to why... apparently, he was attracted by the smell of meat. I forbore asking, knowing that the specimen in question would be before my eyes then.
He was young, that was my first impression. There was a small scar, stitched up along the left cheek below the eye that scabbed over with the impression of age and permanency. His eyes were wide, round, and seemingly innocent, and he was looking at me with the hungry look I suppose a predator gave prey before it swallowed them in a single bite. There was drool pooling from one corner of his mouth, despite that he was clearly civilised, if the relatively clean clothing and the beat-up straw boater perched atop a head of dark unruly hair was any indication.
"You don't have food," he pouted at me. "I'm hungry."
I stared. "You... didn't need a doctor?"
"You're a doctor?" a gleam came into his eyes. "Wow, you're just like Chopper! Except that Chopper's a reindeer, and you're human, anyway, so, who are you? I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm gonna be the Pirate King! Call me Luffy!"
There are a few occasions in one's life where the ability of speech flees oneself and one finds themselves incapable of replying. This is one of those times.
"...a pleasure to meet you, Mr Luffy," I decided to adhere to the safe haven of formality. "I am Doctor John Watson. Is your first name really Monkey?"
"No, it's Luffy," the boy replied, and I say boy, because despite his apparent age of ten and seven I could distinctly sense the mind of a child under that adult mask. "Monkey's my family name. 'Cept Ace doesn't really use it 'cause we have different parents, but we're brothers anyway, and no one calls Grampa by his family name 'cause-"
I held up a hand to stem the flow of chatter. "My family name is Watson. Where we are, it is custom to put the family name behind the first name."
"Really? You guys are funny."
I did not respond to that. "In that case, did you hear the unholy sound-"
It sounded again, but this time with the source of the sound completely apparent. I am happy to report that I walked out completely unharmed and with my diagnosis.
"He's suffering from hunger," I told a dumbstruck Lestrade. "Feed him and he'll be alright. That ghastly sound was his stomach at work."
I have once mentioned in the story entitled A Study in Scarlet that Lestrade resembled a ferret. With that in mind, I ask you now to picture a ferret with an absolutely dumbstruck expression bordering on incredulity. That was the expression Lestrade favoured me then.
"Well, now that we've established that our witness is merely hungry, I shall continue to question him," Holmes huffed at me, clearly miffed by being impeded by human appetite.
A red blur shot out of there as soon as Holmes took so much as a step in, knocking the Great Detective over as Mr Luffy grabbed onto the nearest thing, that is, yours truly, and held on for dear life. Mr Luffy was indeed appropriately named, if his grip was any indication; I had felt no worse grip in my entire life than the iron clamp currently on my wrist and waist. Mr Luffy himself hung from me as if I were a human tree, and if not for the fact that he was grabbing onto my right arm I am quite sure that my shoulder would be hurting from the strain of his weight.
"Food!" He shouted as a constable bearing a pile of pies entered. There followed a few moments of confusion where he tackled the inspector and proceeded to down what must be lunch for half the constables on duty with great voraciousness and enthusiasm.
Holmes drew himself up, looking at Mr Luffy. "Well, then, I would be ever so obliged if you were to give me your name."
Mr Luffy paused, cheeks stuffed, to stare at Holmes. "You talk funny, Hawk Eyes," he replied, cheeks still full, and proceeded to stuff himself to the gills with food.
Holmes twitched. He would continue to do so throughout the whole adventure, and any and all subsequent mentions, of this unique individual, Monkey D. Luffy, the man with the name of D.
"So, can I have a ginger biscuit? Sanji makes them nice, but they're not lemony, not like the old lady's biscuits. These are good, I gotta ask Sanji to make some. Say, hawk Eyes, did you see Zoro around? I can't find him at all, but he's always lost, so that no problem, he'll be fine, he's strong. I'll worry about Nami, Usopp and Chopper instead, I think. Robin will find a book, Franky can take care of himself, and Brook... huh, Brook-"
I stared at the chattering boy, Luffy, as he absently bounced around the sitting room of 221B Baker Street, NW1, 6XE. Sherlock Holmes followed his path from the settee, to the coffee table, to the mantelpiece, to the shelves, to the floor, back to the coffee table. It is amazing. I believe it the first time I have ever seen Sherlock Holmes at a complete loss of words. Even with the payment of five pounds as bail money, Holmes was hardly in any mind to complain about that. Myself, I am in no mind as to enquire into Mr Luffy's circumstances if not for Luffy himself being of the chattering sort.
"Brook's a skeleton! With an afro! And a suit! And he goes 'Yohohoho!'" Luffy cheered. "And Ferret Face is a meanie who broke his promise! He promised me food if I kept quiet and went with you guys! I'm hungry!"
"We'll give you more food if you answer a few questions," Holmes finally broke out from his stupor to begin drilling Mr Luffy.
Mr Luffy perked up almost immediately. "Really? Ask away!"
I am reminded of the Baker Street Irregulars myself, in seeing this young man grinning at Holmes in that disturbingly macabrely cheerful fashion.
"Who are you?" Holmes began on a more tactful opening.
"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm a pirate!" Luffy cheered.
Holmes took that answer far better and more stoically than I though he would. "Indeed? Where were you last night?"
"On the mystery port. But it didn't have meat, so I went to town, and I got lost," the boy pouted. "Oh, yeah, everyone! I gotta find everyone!" he then jumped to his feet, not unlike his namesake.
Holmes looked alarmed, and even I could comprehend that our witness was about to make a break for it. "Stop!"
"I don't like you, Hawk Eyes!" the boy, Luffy, stuck his tongue out rather childishly at Holmes as he made for the window. "Bye, Hawk Eyes, bye, nice uncle doctor!"
Holmes made a move to tackle him, but Luffy demonstrated exceptional agility as he danced away from Holmes and towards the window. His hands latched on the window ledge, and for a moment I considered that he might jump from the second storey up.
Luffy stepped back, and back, and-
Oh gods above.
I could scarcely believe my eyes, and I am sure Holmes could not either, as the arms began to stretch like so much Taffy, the boy grunting as he threw all his weight into stretching his arms the length of half the sitting room... almost like a slingshot.
"Watson! If he escapes we'll lose our only lead on the case!" Holmes bellowed in that masterful way of his.
"You won't keep me from my comrades!" Luffy bellowed back, and I saw him just about to leap into the air... and about to slingshot himself out of the window?
At least, that is what I believed he would do if given the chance. I grabbed the nearby plate of afternoon scones left behind by Mrs Hudson during her endeavours to make her currently only lodger eat something more substantial, piled high with clotted cream and marmalade, and waved it at his direction. "Food!"
It had the desired effect. The boy let go of the ledge, which snapped back into their proper position and also decked him in the head with enough force to flip him over ad land him on the settee. Holmes took the opportunity to lock the window, and secure the door as I dropped the plate of scones into Luffy's lap and busied myself with pouring a cup of the refreshing leaf. It was only when three cups of tea had been poured, and I was facing the bottom of an empty teapot, that the true import of what I had just seen made its impact upon my mind.
"I say, Watson," Holmes murmured. "Good Lord. Mr Luffy... who are you?"
Luffy paused midway through the plate of fruit scones, cheeks still full. Undeterred, the boy grabbed both of his cheeks, stretched them far beyond the capacity of any human being, and snapped them back into their original shape instead of their chipmunk impression. "Oh, I ate the Gomu Gomu no Mi! I'm a rubber man!"
It was quickly apparent that Mr Luffy cared not for my friend, and my friend not for him either, which was how yours truly came to be asking the questions pertinent to the investigation as Mr Luffy plied himself with scones and other comestibles of Mrs Hudson's generous afternoon tea.
"I'm going to ask you a series of questions," I began soothingly.
"If I answer, will you let me go?" he chewed on a scone as he spoke, before taking a gulp of hot chocolate that Mrs Hudson, bless her soul, had thoughtfully provided.
"I do not see the faulty reasoning behind that," I conceded once Holmes's glare towards me was made apparent. "let us begin with something else, Mr Luffy. How old are you?"
"… Seventeen." I was right; he was little more than a child.
"Where are you from?" he was certainly not a local of the East End; children who grew up in backgrounds like that of the irregulars tended to seem less... innocent.
"Fuchsia Village." he promptly replied.
"Where is that?" I wondered if such a village even existed in Her Majesty's Empire. Given the sheer size of it, perhaps so.
"The East Blue." he answered nonchalantly.
"Don't be ridiculous, boy," Holmes scoffed from his place. "There's no such place."
"Not in this world, there is not," I agreed with my friend cautiously. "I have never heard of any place called the East Blue."
"People in the Grand Line sure are weird," Luffy nodded, almost to himself as he continued to swallow a plate of watercress sandwiches.
"...my dear," I began slowly. "Where do you believe you are currently?"
"One of the Grand Line mystery islands," he promptly answered, masticating on the last sandwich thoughtfully. "Can I go find everyone now?"
I paused for a long moment. He certainly showed no signs of lying, as far as my own untrained eye could tell. The boy seemed completely fearless, if a tad suspicious of Holmes and his stare. Of course, there was that one other thing I had noticed since meeting the boy. He had a way about him, a way seen only in men who had fought for their lives and seen battle. The haunted eyes that stare across to every war veteran who had ever fought in battle. He was a fighter, without the discipline of a soldier either. And he must be completely lost, to be in the centre of the Empire and not recognise it.
Holmes obviously shared my opinion, as he voiced the next question. "Your crew? Can you tell me about them?"
It was obvious that the crew was a subject after his own heart, for Luffy began to grow very excited indeed. "Well, there's Zoro, he's the swordsman. Nami's our navigator. Then Usopp, he's our sniper, but he lies a lot too and tells awesome stories. And Sanji! He's our cook! He's the best cook in the world! Then Chopper's our doctor and emergency food supply! And then Robin. She's our arc-loigous… alougu-us… arc…"
He paused for a moment before shaking his head with a grin. "She likes old stuff!" he stated nodding to himself. "Franky's our shipwright and cyborg, he's cool and he's a pervert! Then Brook's our musician! He's a walking talking skeleton who plays any instrument, and he's got an afro! Oh, and he always asks women if he can see their panties. Is that all? Yep, yap."
I had stopped taking notes at about the time Luffy trashed the word 'archaeologist' and had reverted to staring at the boy, my jaw possibly dropping to the floor. "And your position?" I remembered to ask, albeit faintly.
He actually looked offended, as if the answer was so obvious. "Captain, of course."
Very slowly, I turned to meet my friend's equally incredulous expression. We both rose from our chairs, out of the sitting room, locking the still-masticating Luffy in, before Holmes turned to me.
"Watson," my friend sighed once he had recovered from the shock of seeing a man that, to all appearances and purposes, was made completely of rubber and, apparently, either from Bedlam or from the completely improbable option. "I remember saying the maxim that once we have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
"Indeed, I remember," I nodded.
"He does not seem to be lying," my friend continued. "When he claimed to be from Fuchsia Village in East Blue, or thinking that he was in the Grand Line, wherever that place must be, he truly and completely believed so. I do not think him insane, Watson; he seems remarkably in control of his own faculties, too much to be considered insane, despite believing that he is a pirate."
"He doesn't look like one," I shook my head. "Surely he is merely a boy from the East End."
Holmes gave me a look. "Watson, I have prided myself on being capable of identifying a man's birthplace. Despite his rather rough tone, Mr Luffy speaks with remarkably good diction and a slight command of grammar, if not vocabulary, which shows some form of education not readily available to the children of the East End. Also note the strange accent, which though diminished is enough to identify him as not being English, or Cockney, or Jewish, or indeed any of the nationalities I am well acquainted with."
I took a deep breath. "It is unbelievable, it is, I tell you."
"He is not a suspect, but the fact remains that he was indeed, caught at the scene of the crime, and may be a possible witness," Holmes pointed out. "Either way, it shall be quite a complicated case, I believe. Boys with stretching arms and speaking of far-flung places and questionable sanity notwithstanding. Leave me, Watson, and entertain our guest; he certainly tolerates your presence far better than mine. I shall be mulling over this with my pipe in hand."
I entered the sitting room in time to procure the last of the plain scones with marmalade and a fresh teapot barely touched by Luffy. His black eyes never wavered from my plate of scones even as I chewed thoughtfully and I do believe that f given the chance, he would steal them all from me in a heartbeat.
"So you're a pirate?" I began, putting aside a scone to push towards him.
The unfortunate pastry disappeared down the bottomless gullet the moment the scone even made normal reaching distance. "Yep! I'm on an adventure! I'm gonna find One Piece!"
"Why? Why not something else?" I wondered.
"Because it's my dream. And I made a promise." Luffy simply replied, though he did reach up to his hat. The straw boater clearly carried some not-insignificant sentimental value to him.
"And your crew feels the same?" I prompted.
"Nope. We all got our dreams. But then there was a storm and the next thing I knew, I'm on a mystery island with no one around."
"You lost them in a storm?" I blinked. "I'm... sorry for your loss?"
"They're all okay, because they're my crew." Luffy grinned with the optimism of one with the utmost faith. "None of us are going to die until we get our dreams. Until we find the One Piece."
"One Piece?" I questioned, raising a brow.
"Man you are the funniest guys." Luffy chuckled, still eyeing my scones. "You don't know about the One Piece? Everyone knows about that. Gold Rodger's treasure at the end of the Grand Line. I'm going to find it and become King of the Pirates for sure." he stated confidently. "What's your dream?"
I blinked. "...to be a doctor?"
"Good for you!" Luffy cheered. "Let's celebrate! Pirates celebrate by dancing and music and food! I'll begin! Yohohoho, yohohoho~!"
I held up a hand to prevent the onslaught of what promised to be a music-hall tune belted out in the loudest possible off-key tune to be heard all the way to Regent's Street. "Enough. So, how did you end up with Inspector Lestrade?"
"Hmm?" Luffy looked at me, and I realised that he was still eyeing my scones. Another one was sacrificed to the good cause. "Oh, Ferret Face! Yeah, I was running after beating up some guys who tried to beat me up, and they looked nasty, and then one of them fell, and he was cut open and I ran some more and I got hungry and lost and found myself arriving at the same time when a large man in black with a funny helmet came and yelled at me and tried to beat me up, but then Ferret Face stepped in and began spouting about some rights or whatnot and I got hungry and wanted something to eat and then Ferret Face said that he'll feed me if I came with him." he fell silent as he bit down on the pastry. "He didn't keep his promise," the boy pouted.
"He technically did," I offered consolingly. "There is only so much food that one can offer to a prisoner in one sitting, you know. Was your prison not shared?"
"Oh, the other guys," Luffy snorted, beginning to dig into his nasal orifice -before a stranger, at that!- with a finger. "They were weak, so they went hungry, right? I think I left food for them."
I decided not to dignify that with a response.
"It appears that we require more data," Holmes finally appeared, the rank smell of tobacco hanging around him like some smog. "I am afraid, Mr Luffy, that until we have found someone willing to corroborate your story, you shall have to remain with us."
"You talk funny, Hawk Eyes," Luffy bluntly retorted. "You're like Old Smokey, he's always frowning. Well, when he's not chasing us or anything."
A cloud of smoke billowed from the bowl of the pipe as Holmes turned a remarkable shade of red, and I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for this Old Smokey, whoever he was.
"Yep, just like Smokey," Luffy chuckled. "Oi, nice uncle doctor, can I have more?"
"I'll see what I can do?" I helpfully offered.
"It is clear now," Holmes concluded upon the end of dinner, half of which was actually Luffy's work. 'However, we require more corroboration on the part of Captain Luffy here."
"So, we gotta find my crew anyway?" Luffy blinked. "Awesome!"
"Considering the interesting tale that you have provided concerning your crew, I have determined that the person most actively seeking us would be your archaeologist, the woman named Robin," Holmes clarified.
Luffy turned solemn. "But, Robin's smart. You think she'll be able to find us?"
"I expect, that Miss Robin would be actively seeking us out," Holmes noted. "What better way than to search at a place of her interest? The ancient world is being exhibited in South Kensington, after all."
So began our plan to find one of the elusive crew of Monkey D. Luffy.
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