Sherlock and scooby
For this short story, we had to write a fan fiction. So, for my fan fiction I took an episode of Sherlock and replaced Dr. Watson with Scooby Doo. In my mind, Scooby would constantly annoy Sherlock.
sherlock_and_scooby.odt | |
File Size: | 22 kb |
File Type: | odt |
Sherlock and Scooby
It was a fine, calm evening. Sherlock Holmes was relaxing on his couch and reading a book while Scooby Doo was rummaging through the refrigerator. The room was quiet before Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room, catching Sherlock and Scooby's attention. “There are two men at the door waiting for you Sherlock. They say you are needed for a case.” she wheezes through a handkerchief.
“Of course I am.” Sherlock spoke with his cool, deep voice. He closed his book and stood up, then called for Scooby as he left the room. “Come with me Scooby.” he huffed and he rushed down the stairs.
“Rokay, Raggey.” Scooby Doo replied, pulling his head out of the refrigerator. He bounced down the stairs after Sherlock, meeting him outside.
The men waiting outside the flat were dressed in policed uniforms, one of them were holding an envelope. Sherlock nodded them, then asked, “What am I needed for now?” The men just looked at each other, and the man holding the envelope handed it to Sherlock, while the other hailed a cab. Sherlock looked down at the envelope, it seemed normal. It was light, and addressed to him. He opened it, and inside was a letter. The writing on the letter was just a bunch of shapes and figures, no real words. It was signed, “With love, Moriarty.” He grinned, and his phone rang. With one swift movement, he answered.
“Hello sexy.” the voice on the other end was a woman's, maybe in her mid twenties. “I see you've received my mail.” her voice shook, and had a deep tone to it. She was obviously fighting back tears.
“Who is this?” Sherlock replied, the woman on the other end sobbed.
“I am waiting for you Sherlock. You have six hours to find me. If you are unable to locate me in time,” the woman paused and took a moment to cry, “I will die.” The phone hung up.
“Ruh row.” said Scooby, and Sherlock just gave him a dirty look. “What now Raggey?” he asked.
“We decode this message, and my name isn't 'Raggey', it's Sherlock, got it?” Sherlock spoke, gritting his teeth. He turned to the men in the uniforms, they directed him into the cab. The cab drove the men, and Scooby, to the police station. They entered and met up with Greg Lestrade in his office, he had information set up for the case.
“This man obviously aims to kill this woman. We don't know where she is, we can't get a good location on her. When the envelope came to the station, with your name on it, I immediately sent for you.” Greg handed Sherlock a folder with more information on the case. “The envelope was addressed to you. It seems, whoever this man is, is only interested in your involvement.”
“He wants to play.” Sherlock mumbled to himself as he flipped through the pages in the folder.
“Well, you are the best in town. Not to mention all the attention you've been getting lately. That doesn't make much sense though, you're more likely to catch him.” Greg watched as Sherlock phased around the room, he pet Scooby on his head. “How are you getting along with Watson's temporary replacement?” he asked, meaning Scooby, who he had never seen before.
“You said he was highly recommended, but all he has done is eat.” Sherlock eyed Scooby. “I'm not too fond of him.” he looked down at the folder, then pulled out the note from the envelope. “This is written in some kind of code, but I can't seem to figure it out.”
“Rat rooks rike ruby racks.” Scooby leaned over the note, then licked the note on the table.
“Filthy mutt.” Sherlock smacked Scooby away. “I need to find some way of decoding it.” Just then an officer entered the room.
“Sir, we have the missing person's report. There is one match to the woman on the phone, a woman named Caroline Booth. She is twenty-seven years old, and works at a retirement center for the mentally ill.” the man handed Greg her file. He opened it, then pulled out a picture of the woman.
“Alright, we need a team ready to search this facility.” Greg ordered the man out. He nodded, then left. Greg followed Sherlock out of the room, to the elevator. “Do you think there will be much help at the retirement home?”
“I'm sure to find something. There has to be some kind of connection.” Sherlock responded with an emotionless face. The doors of the elevator closed, and the team lowered to the first floor. Sherlock was ushered to a police car, the driven to the retirement home.
It was a small building, with it's usual amount of elderly citizens outside. They were kindly greeted, by most, as they entered. Approaching the main desk, an older woman was going through some files. She was a bit plump, and her hair was graying. She immediately recognized Sherlock when he walked in. “Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” she gasped at the view of him. She seemed completely surprised by his visit, and the large group of police behind him.
“Excuse me ma’am, I am going to need access to the facilities. The bedrooms, bathrooms, commons area, and residents.” he coolly requested, looking around the main lobby. “You wouldn't happen to know a Mrs. Caroline Booth, would you?”
“Uh, yes sir.” she responded, speechless. Sherlock huffed, then began his search through the retirement home. Scooby ran off to find some food. Sherlock made his way through bathrooms and bedrooms, finding nothing. It wasn't until he reached the commons area, where the seniors had their art on display, when he found something of use. It was the art of an old man, a bunch of symbols matching the note that Sherlock had received.
“Interesting.” he said as he pulled out the note. He raised it up for comparison, the symbols matched. The artist was a man named Douglass Rolan. Sherlock turned to a nurse in the room, “May I speak to a man named Douglass Rolan?” he asked the nurse, she hesitated. He then spoke again, this time more aggressively. “I wish to speak to him.” the nurse looked down, then quietly showed Sherlock to the old man, while Scooby Doo followed after. The old man was sitting alone in his room drawing and mumbling. He was swaying back and fourth, drawing with too much pressure, and throwing away each crayon he broke. Sherlock's phone rang, and the man in the room jumped. Sherlock answered his phone, and the man in the room started yelling. He jumped at Sherlock, who dodged him and quickly exited the room. The nurse was joined by five other who restrained the old man, then gave him a shot, he quickly calmed down.
“You have four hours, Sherlock. You have four hours to save me,” the woman then begged, “please save me.” her voice cried into Sherlock's ear. “You're getting close.” Sherlock looked at the man being restrained in the room, he slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep.
“What did you do to him?” Sherlock panicked, running to the man.
“We sedated him, put him out for a few hours. He'd have heart attack if he were to stay like that much longer.” one of the nurses stepped out from the slowly relaxing group.
“How long will he be out?” Sherlock asked the nurse.
“Two hours, maybe more.” the nurse shrugged. Sherlock cursed and hit the wall next to him.
“Do you know how to read this?” Sherlock asked the nurse, handing him the note from Moriarty. He looked down at it, puzzled.
“The old man makes many of the drawings, but none of us know what they mean. We all assume he just likes abstract art.” the nurse handed back the note to Sherlock, who cursed again. Scooby then sneaked out of the room, to go find food, while Sherlock sat down to wait for the man to wake up.
So then they waited, and waited. Sherlock grew tired of sitting within the first ten minutes of waiting, so he stood up and started looking at the drawings in the old man's room. There were many pieces of paper pinned and taped to the wall. Papers with matching drawings were scattered about the room, all marked up with the same shapes and figures from the letter. Sherlock then began comparing the papers with the drawings, trying to find a pattern.
Soon three hours had gone by, and the old man started to open his eyes. He mumbled, then kicked around, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Sherlock silently watched as the old man whipped around and looked. He didn't want to startle him, so he quietly waited for the old man to say something first. “Who are you? Why are you in here?” the old man wiggled around in his bed, getting used to his regained consciousness. Sherlock grinned at the old man, then took the note out, and handed it to the old man.
“I am private detective Sherlock Holmes, I am currently in need of your assistance. I need you to decode this for me.” he shook the note at the old man, who just stared at it a bit drawn back. He looked at it, the reached out and took it. His face scrunched up and relaxed while he looked at it, Sherlock waited.
“It says there will be an explosion in the park.” the old man handed the note back to Sherlock with a confused look on his face. “Where did you get this?” he asked, and Sherlock took the paper from him.
“A man mailed it to me. I believe he is trying to kill someone. Do you know which park the letter is referring to?” Sherlock force a friendly smile at the old man, he just stared. Sherlock's phone rang, he answered.
“Ten minutes Sherlock. I will die in ten minutes Sherlock. Hurry, please. Please hurry.” the woman was now frantic and screaming on the other line. Sherlock quickly thought of every park nearby, then called out to Greg to check the nearest parks. The officers quickly ran out of the nursing home, while many of the elderly began to scream and run around. The whole building was filled with screams. Scooby came running out of the crowd towards Sherlock, then jumped into his arms.
“Save me Raggey!” he yelped, and Sherlock dropped him.
“You nasty mutt, help me! I don't have very much longer before an innocent woman dies.” Sherlock yelled at Scooby, who whimpered and crawled away. “I need Dr. Watson, you cannot help me!” he yelled, and just then, an explosion was heard outside of the retirement home. He ran outside to look, and in the distance the smoke from an explosion rose. Sherlock screamed in anger.
“Ruh row.” Scooby appeared beside Sherlock. “What happened Raggey?”
It was a fine, calm evening. Sherlock Holmes was relaxing on his couch and reading a book while Scooby Doo was rummaging through the refrigerator. The room was quiet before Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room, catching Sherlock and Scooby's attention. “There are two men at the door waiting for you Sherlock. They say you are needed for a case.” she wheezes through a handkerchief.
“Of course I am.” Sherlock spoke with his cool, deep voice. He closed his book and stood up, then called for Scooby as he left the room. “Come with me Scooby.” he huffed and he rushed down the stairs.
“Rokay, Raggey.” Scooby Doo replied, pulling his head out of the refrigerator. He bounced down the stairs after Sherlock, meeting him outside.
The men waiting outside the flat were dressed in policed uniforms, one of them were holding an envelope. Sherlock nodded them, then asked, “What am I needed for now?” The men just looked at each other, and the man holding the envelope handed it to Sherlock, while the other hailed a cab. Sherlock looked down at the envelope, it seemed normal. It was light, and addressed to him. He opened it, and inside was a letter. The writing on the letter was just a bunch of shapes and figures, no real words. It was signed, “With love, Moriarty.” He grinned, and his phone rang. With one swift movement, he answered.
“Hello sexy.” the voice on the other end was a woman's, maybe in her mid twenties. “I see you've received my mail.” her voice shook, and had a deep tone to it. She was obviously fighting back tears.
“Who is this?” Sherlock replied, the woman on the other end sobbed.
“I am waiting for you Sherlock. You have six hours to find me. If you are unable to locate me in time,” the woman paused and took a moment to cry, “I will die.” The phone hung up.
“Ruh row.” said Scooby, and Sherlock just gave him a dirty look. “What now Raggey?” he asked.
“We decode this message, and my name isn't 'Raggey', it's Sherlock, got it?” Sherlock spoke, gritting his teeth. He turned to the men in the uniforms, they directed him into the cab. The cab drove the men, and Scooby, to the police station. They entered and met up with Greg Lestrade in his office, he had information set up for the case.
“This man obviously aims to kill this woman. We don't know where she is, we can't get a good location on her. When the envelope came to the station, with your name on it, I immediately sent for you.” Greg handed Sherlock a folder with more information on the case. “The envelope was addressed to you. It seems, whoever this man is, is only interested in your involvement.”
“He wants to play.” Sherlock mumbled to himself as he flipped through the pages in the folder.
“Well, you are the best in town. Not to mention all the attention you've been getting lately. That doesn't make much sense though, you're more likely to catch him.” Greg watched as Sherlock phased around the room, he pet Scooby on his head. “How are you getting along with Watson's temporary replacement?” he asked, meaning Scooby, who he had never seen before.
“You said he was highly recommended, but all he has done is eat.” Sherlock eyed Scooby. “I'm not too fond of him.” he looked down at the folder, then pulled out the note from the envelope. “This is written in some kind of code, but I can't seem to figure it out.”
“Rat rooks rike ruby racks.” Scooby leaned over the note, then licked the note on the table.
“Filthy mutt.” Sherlock smacked Scooby away. “I need to find some way of decoding it.” Just then an officer entered the room.
“Sir, we have the missing person's report. There is one match to the woman on the phone, a woman named Caroline Booth. She is twenty-seven years old, and works at a retirement center for the mentally ill.” the man handed Greg her file. He opened it, then pulled out a picture of the woman.
“Alright, we need a team ready to search this facility.” Greg ordered the man out. He nodded, then left. Greg followed Sherlock out of the room, to the elevator. “Do you think there will be much help at the retirement home?”
“I'm sure to find something. There has to be some kind of connection.” Sherlock responded with an emotionless face. The doors of the elevator closed, and the team lowered to the first floor. Sherlock was ushered to a police car, the driven to the retirement home.
It was a small building, with it's usual amount of elderly citizens outside. They were kindly greeted, by most, as they entered. Approaching the main desk, an older woman was going through some files. She was a bit plump, and her hair was graying. She immediately recognized Sherlock when he walked in. “Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” she gasped at the view of him. She seemed completely surprised by his visit, and the large group of police behind him.
“Excuse me ma’am, I am going to need access to the facilities. The bedrooms, bathrooms, commons area, and residents.” he coolly requested, looking around the main lobby. “You wouldn't happen to know a Mrs. Caroline Booth, would you?”
“Uh, yes sir.” she responded, speechless. Sherlock huffed, then began his search through the retirement home. Scooby ran off to find some food. Sherlock made his way through bathrooms and bedrooms, finding nothing. It wasn't until he reached the commons area, where the seniors had their art on display, when he found something of use. It was the art of an old man, a bunch of symbols matching the note that Sherlock had received.
“Interesting.” he said as he pulled out the note. He raised it up for comparison, the symbols matched. The artist was a man named Douglass Rolan. Sherlock turned to a nurse in the room, “May I speak to a man named Douglass Rolan?” he asked the nurse, she hesitated. He then spoke again, this time more aggressively. “I wish to speak to him.” the nurse looked down, then quietly showed Sherlock to the old man, while Scooby Doo followed after. The old man was sitting alone in his room drawing and mumbling. He was swaying back and fourth, drawing with too much pressure, and throwing away each crayon he broke. Sherlock's phone rang, and the man in the room jumped. Sherlock answered his phone, and the man in the room started yelling. He jumped at Sherlock, who dodged him and quickly exited the room. The nurse was joined by five other who restrained the old man, then gave him a shot, he quickly calmed down.
“You have four hours, Sherlock. You have four hours to save me,” the woman then begged, “please save me.” her voice cried into Sherlock's ear. “You're getting close.” Sherlock looked at the man being restrained in the room, he slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep.
“What did you do to him?” Sherlock panicked, running to the man.
“We sedated him, put him out for a few hours. He'd have heart attack if he were to stay like that much longer.” one of the nurses stepped out from the slowly relaxing group.
“How long will he be out?” Sherlock asked the nurse.
“Two hours, maybe more.” the nurse shrugged. Sherlock cursed and hit the wall next to him.
“Do you know how to read this?” Sherlock asked the nurse, handing him the note from Moriarty. He looked down at it, puzzled.
“The old man makes many of the drawings, but none of us know what they mean. We all assume he just likes abstract art.” the nurse handed back the note to Sherlock, who cursed again. Scooby then sneaked out of the room, to go find food, while Sherlock sat down to wait for the man to wake up.
So then they waited, and waited. Sherlock grew tired of sitting within the first ten minutes of waiting, so he stood up and started looking at the drawings in the old man's room. There were many pieces of paper pinned and taped to the wall. Papers with matching drawings were scattered about the room, all marked up with the same shapes and figures from the letter. Sherlock then began comparing the papers with the drawings, trying to find a pattern.
Soon three hours had gone by, and the old man started to open his eyes. He mumbled, then kicked around, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Sherlock silently watched as the old man whipped around and looked. He didn't want to startle him, so he quietly waited for the old man to say something first. “Who are you? Why are you in here?” the old man wiggled around in his bed, getting used to his regained consciousness. Sherlock grinned at the old man, then took the note out, and handed it to the old man.
“I am private detective Sherlock Holmes, I am currently in need of your assistance. I need you to decode this for me.” he shook the note at the old man, who just stared at it a bit drawn back. He looked at it, the reached out and took it. His face scrunched up and relaxed while he looked at it, Sherlock waited.
“It says there will be an explosion in the park.” the old man handed the note back to Sherlock with a confused look on his face. “Where did you get this?” he asked, and Sherlock took the paper from him.
“A man mailed it to me. I believe he is trying to kill someone. Do you know which park the letter is referring to?” Sherlock force a friendly smile at the old man, he just stared. Sherlock's phone rang, he answered.
“Ten minutes Sherlock. I will die in ten minutes Sherlock. Hurry, please. Please hurry.” the woman was now frantic and screaming on the other line. Sherlock quickly thought of every park nearby, then called out to Greg to check the nearest parks. The officers quickly ran out of the nursing home, while many of the elderly began to scream and run around. The whole building was filled with screams. Scooby came running out of the crowd towards Sherlock, then jumped into his arms.
“Save me Raggey!” he yelped, and Sherlock dropped him.
“You nasty mutt, help me! I don't have very much longer before an innocent woman dies.” Sherlock yelled at Scooby, who whimpered and crawled away. “I need Dr. Watson, you cannot help me!” he yelled, and just then, an explosion was heard outside of the retirement home. He ran outside to look, and in the distance the smoke from an explosion rose. Sherlock screamed in anger.
“Ruh row.” Scooby appeared beside Sherlock. “What happened Raggey?”