(I feel like I should say 'welcome' on this chapter, too)
Next chapter is will most likely be the re-entrance of Holmes (either that or chapter 5...). Some major plot elements start to come into play here, namely Lestrade's "attraction" for Holmes, Fenwick being ...Fenwick, and another thing so very secret and integral to the plot that you're just going to have to find them out for yourself.
I had a lot of fun with this chapter--hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
(Camera pans, signalling a change of scene. The audience sees several dome-shaped buildings before the camera zeroes in on the New Scotland Yard office.)
Grey. (distressed) Look at this, Lestrade! Five light poles down, three crashes into Lord Nelson, and now you're telling me some orange-faced dead guy is behind it all?
Lest. (nods) Yes sir, Cheif.
Grey. I have news for you, inspector. One: I'm not that stupid; two, corpses are not orange; three--
Lest. But he was orange, sir.
Grey. Then he couldn't have been a corpse.
Grey. But Moriarty is dead, so if the orange creature you saw was not dead, it could not therefore have been Moriarty. For it to have been Moriarty and, consequently, dead, it would have had to been pale-ish, not orange. Do you follow me, Lestrade?
Lest. Somewhat, sir. He was still orange, though.
Grey. (sighs) This is what's flawed with New Scotland Yard, Lestrade. It's the inspectors going around believing they saw things that they didn't see. Trust me, we've already got a feasible hypothesis with the dead man thing. Let's not mess it up, shall we?
Lest. Understood, sir. ...If you don't mind me asking, when did you come up with that hypothesis?
Grey. Five minutes ago.
(Silence, then )
Lest. Will you explain the rest of it to me?
Grey. Oridinarily, I wouldn't share my thoughts with an inferior officer, but...I'll make an exception because you worked on the case.
(LESTRADE brightens, hoping to gain some insight into GREYSON's no doubt crazy theory. Because of this, she allows the "inferior officer" comment to pass.)
Grey. Clearly, Fenwick was in the passenger side of the craft. That we know from the analysis. The corpse must have been driving.
Lest. The corpse, sir?
(Evidently, this is not what LESTRADE was hoping for. GREYSON continues relentlessly.)
Lest. But I told you that I saw Professor Moriarty...
Grey. I don't disagree. But Moriarty's dead. Facts are facts, Lestrade. And dead people can't drive cars. Obviously, Fenwick must have taken the body and allowed it to drive. That explains the exceedingly poor driving and the presence of Moriarty.
Lest. Sir, with all due respect, you've got it completely wrong. I--
Grey. Nonsense, Lestrade. It's the only logical conclusion we can draw from the evidence. Fenwick's being charged with first-degree body-snatching as well as the minor felony of allowing a minor/ tree/ corpse to operate a motorized craft.
Lest. I just don't think that's it. All the Holmes novels I read--
Grey. (annoyed as heck, he's heard this before) Lestrade, will you please get a life? Honestly, of all the people on the force, you're the only one who seems to think that some book is going to help you solve crimes. (gesturing at the many computers around them) See? This is how we solve our problems. It's the way of the future-- let the machines do the thinking for us. Law enforcement is complicated enough as it is without having to revert back to some Victorian looney--
Lest. Sir! I can't just let you insult him. Holmes might have thought my ancestor was an idiot, and in all truth he was, but the later Lestrades in my family grew to realize that Holmes' methods were right! (smiling to herself) In fact, he's the reason I--
Grey. (quietly) Lestrade, are you aware of exactly how much damage you caused today?
Lest. I don't see how this--
Grey. Answer the question, inspector.
Lest. (thinking a moment) Not exactly, no.
Grey. One million credits.
(LESTRADE is speechless. The amount is somewhere around twice her yearly salary. )
Lest. (in awe) One million...
Grey. Yes. (raising his voice) One million credits! So if you value your weekly paycheck for the next five years, you'll go along with my theory. Understood?
Lest. What about Fenwick's cryptnotic programing? We've got to find out why it didn't take.
Grey. You want to follow that body-stealer? Be my guest. (a moment) Oh, and Lestrade?
Lest. (pausing on her way to the door) Sir?
Grey. (deadly, and utterly serious) Touch nothing in the lab unless you want to be in debt for eternity.
(Scene fades to Cryptnosis Lab.)
Lest. I hope you didn't file all those damage reports in my name, Watson.
R. Wat. The officer on duty is respons--
Lest. I take it back. I don't want to know any more. (to the SCIENTISTS) What's the prognosis, guys?
Sci 1. (grimly to SCIENTIST 2) She used the word "prognosis". She must be a smart one.
Sci 2. (nodding) We'll have to watch out for her. She could ruin our plans...
Lest. (hasn't heard a word as the SCIENTISTS continue to whisper amongst themselves) Er, guys?
Sci 1. Of course! (back to normal, speaking to LESTRADE) It doesn't look good. Poor guy's got worse skin than anyone living I know.
Sci 2. (inspired) But was that enough to turn him towards necrophilia?
Sci 1. Shh! Don't suggest your hypothesis in the presence of the subject! It might--
Fen. Necrophilia! Mon Dieu! Are all the Yardies so dumb? I'm a geneticist! I cloned him!
Sci 1. --influence the results.
Sci 2. Denial, plausible excuses, speaking in French, the language of love...I do believe he's just confirmed it.
Fen. I CLONED HIM, I TELL YOU!
Sci 2. (dismissing FENWICK's outburst) Bah! Cloning! You can't clone a human without taking serious risks. One wrong move and the skin color becomes messed up and they won't look human at all.
Fen. (losing it) Stop reminding me!
(The Cryptnotic techs begin to hit FENWICK with a yellow beam and start the process. LESTRADE and WATSON watch.)
Lest. Y'know, you'd think that this being the twenty-second century and all that we'd have figured out a better way to do this without filling a room with massive wires and tube-things.
R. Wat. Tube-things is incorrect. The correct jargon is plasmotastic encyclicotubotical robo--
Lest. Can it. Memo to Greyson.
R. Wat. Mailbox full.
Lest. Urgh. Well, delete some of those damage reports or something.
R. Wat. Lack authorization.
Lest. This is hopeless anyway. Greyson thinks that Fenwick's spiriting away dead men and if I say anything different I'll lose any hope of survival financially. Great. (She sits down and sighs) This is supposed to be the twenty-second century, land of opportunity and haven of righteousness. Why does this happen still?
R. Wat. Unable to answer question. Monologue detected.
Lest. Thanks a lot for the restoration of my confidence, Watson.
(Scenes change to 221B Baker Street. Scene starts viewing the side of the apartments, then the sound of breaking glass is heard. Inside, FENWICK runs to the door, clutching something.)
Lest. (Nearing the door) Be careful, Watson. Someone's coming.
(FENWICK rushes the door, which lands on LESTRADE.)
Fen. Ha! Feel the wrath of la porte! Au revoir!
Lest. (from beneath door) Watson. Some help, if you don't mind.
(WATSON obligingly lifts the door and carries LESTADE in his arms as the two pursue FENWICK.)
Lest. (fighting) Put me down at once! (proceeds to run after FENWICK to the Underground.)
Fen. Just try and stop me now! Go, my rat minions, go!
Lest. Ewww. So not going in there. C'mon, Watson.
R. Wat. Access de-
(Cut to 221B)
Lest. Well, look at this. Broken glass and a shattered display case. None too subtle... (to herself) Thank Zed they didn't take any of his things. Let's see what they left behind...
(LESTRADE picks through the glass shards for the display card.)
R. Wat. Warning! Glass shards are...
Lest. Holy Zed! Ouch!
R. Wat. Sharp.
Lest. (sardonically) Thanks ever so much, Watson. (something on the card catches her eye) Hey, this was Moriarty's mask and disguise at Reichenbach Falls. Wow! Moriarty hardly ever could restrain himself enough to keep his masks intact, making this one a real collector's item. Let's see here: "Records show that Moriarty did indeed carry a second set of masks with him as he journeyed to put an end to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. This creation of a second mask is highly irregular, making this duplicate quite a rarity." (pause) That seems oddly like what I just said.
R. Wat. Maybe too many visits here on your lunch hours?
Lest. (gives WATSON an evil look, then has an idea) Ha! I've got it. Watson, tell me I'm a genius.
R. Wat. Are you?
Lest. (sigh) Nevermind. But now I see a motive. Stealing high-value commodities like this mask would lure Greyson and the other braindead inspectors at the Yard into thinking that Fenwick was only after valuable things. (pause) Or that he had some sick obsession with Moriarty. But we know that Moriarty makes all the difference.
R. Wat. Dead or alive?
Lest. I'm pretty sure he's alive. ...I really don't want to turn orange when I die... You can't smirk and be dead, right?
R. Wat. Evidence to the contrary. Pictoral images loading...
Lest. (horrified at what her robot's doing) No! They'll think I'm the necrophiliac then! (this has no effect) I don't need convincing, Watson! Cease loading, cease loading!
(Scene changes, again. LESTRADE and WATSON seem to be going to a lot of places this chapter. Now both are finally back where they started, sort of: the New Scotland Yard heeadquarters, Lestrade's office. The desk monitor is on, showing a female TV host.)
News: And in other news, apart from the multiple thefts, burglaries, vandalisms, and other various crimes that have plagued New London...
Lest. (exhausted) They never give me a break, do they? They just list all my short-comings at the end of the day and force me to participate or else they won't show me the news. I can't relax and veg out in front of the TV like I did when I was little...It's just intro's upon intro's until I say "more, more more!"
(The TV picks up on this.)
News: And now, a ray of hope for our poor city. Sir Evan Hargreaves recently--
Lest. I didn't mean that, stupid TV...
News: --having broken off connections with an infamous geneticist, has announced the successfull recurrection of dead human cells based off their DNA. This process could signal a brighter age for all the wor--
Lest. Hey, that's it! That could be how Moriarty was-- (she snatches a old volume off her book shelf and flips through the pages) Aha! Moriarty was the greatest code-breaker even known. There was only one way to defeat him before, and there's only one way to defeat him now. C'mon, Watson!
(LESTRADE dashes off out the door, with WATSON close behind.)