Sherlock and the Little People

By Doctor Napalm

Chapter 7

John entered the room first and immediately sensed that things were not normal. A man sitting behind an odd desk in the far corner invited him to have a seat. Expecting more green, John noted there was not a hint of the color in the strange office. He stepped towards the offered chair as Sherlock entered behind him. John experienced some disorientation as he noticed that the floor was not level but sloped down towards the chair. Looking up he saw that the ceiling also rose in that direction. All of the angles and surfaces of the room were totally wrong with the exception of the wall that the door was in. Sherlock remained in the doorway. The man waved him towards a second seat, but he remained standing where he was and looked around at the odd decor.

"Where's Patty?" the man asked with a rather harsh American accent.

"You are referring to Patrick Kavanagh?" Sherlock replied.

"That's his real name," the man said, "he goes by the name Patty O'Table here. A cheap joke, but I am not laughing. Where is the little son of a bitch?"

"Permit me to introduce myself, I am Sherlock Holmes, a consulting detective with the Metropolitan Police," Sherlock said, introducing himself. Gesturing towards John, he continued, "This is my associate Dr. John Watson. And you are…?"

"Oh, uh, I'm Jamie O'Reilly, owner of this fine establishment. Holmes…Holmes," he said thoughtfully, "that name rings a bell. You related to Mike, uh, Mycroft Holmes?"

"My reserved brother..."

"Bloody hell! I haven't seen Mike around here in forever! I owe him a drink for helping me out with all the bleedin' red tape when I opened up here. say 'Hi' to the old bastard next time you see him." Jamie frowned and looked at Sherlock. "So…you guys know where Patty is?"

Sherlock hesitated slightly while he processed the fact that Mycroft was apparently well known at Rainbros. "Unfortunately, we are searching for Mr. Kavanagh as well. He seems to have disappeared on us and hoped that someone here might know where he has gotten off to."

"Damn," the man grumbled, "if I get my hands on him, I'll kill the little bogtrotter."

Sherlock remained silent for a moment then asked, "Because?"

"He caused me a great financial loss by not showing up for work last week."

"I take it that he was one of your employees."

"Yeah, part-time bartender, full-time pain in the ass; and you're right, he WAS an employee because the little prick is fired! He was a major part of our St. Patrick's Day smack-down event and never came in. Our biggest day of the year here and he bails on me. I guess you noticed the Irish theme here at Rainbros…"

"It would be hard not to notice," Sherlock replied. "Smack-down event?"

"Thursday is midget wrestling night at Rainbros and he was supposed to be the A-show. We have a professional ring setup on the second floor. I booked it as 'Patty O'Table versus Paul Bunyan.' I've been promoting it as the money match for two months. A main event if there ever was one, and he just blows it off."

"Paul Bunyan wasn't Irish," Sherlock began.

"Ah, who the hell cares? He's a big-ass lumberjack! It's an annual event. Midgets versus giants, that's what it's all about. Two or three little good guys tag team a big bad guy and end up busting him in the head a few times with a chair. It's a gimmick. Damn, I even brought in a cow and had it painted blue."

"A blue cow?"

"Babe, the blue ox. Paul Bunyan's…uh, his pet…I guess. No, his mascot. Paul Bunyan's mascot was a blue ox."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, it would've been golden. Money in the bank except he was a no-show. I ended up refunding a crap load of money to the guests who paid for the show."

Changing the subject, Sherlock said, "I noticed one of your shillelaghs over the bar is missing."

"Yeah, most of the things on the walls out there are cheap plastic knockoffs, but that one was the genuine article. It disappeared the night before Patty did. I'm guessing the little shit took it when he closed up that night and is going to try to pawn it somewhere. The guy who sold it to me claimed it was magical. I never saw anything magic about it, but it looked damn good and I paid a pretty penny for it. Did a lot for the fug sway of this joint."

Sherlock put his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Well, if you locate Mr. Kavanagh, please contact the Metro Police."

"Yeah, I'll give them a call right after I kick his ass up between his shoulder blades."

"John, it's time for us to go. Thank you for your time, Mr. O'Reilly."

"Anytime, Mr. Holmes. Hey, come back next Thursday and I'll give you a visitor's pass for Gulliver versus the Lilliputians, it should be a great match."