[ WP ] A teenager 's cheesy fanfiction turns into something else ... ... ...

> Sherlock adjusted his trusty deerstalker and examined the evidence: somebody had tampered with the car-assembling factory robots, new Datsuns were rolling out of Yokohama with engines rigged to explode after 1000 miles, and Ichiro Datsun ’ s office smelled faintly of perfume. Dr. Watson and the elderly Japanese man stood silently in the stately room awaiting another masterful deduction. At last, Sherlock stopped pacing and turned to face the other two. 
 
 > ” It was your lover, ” Sherlock said evenly to the Datsun president. The elderly man was taken aback. “ Please, ” Sherlock continued by way of stopping the impending protest before it started, “ don ’ t try to tell me you don ’ t have a mistress. The evidence is all over you: wrinkles in your trousers where they were left in a heap last night ( and you didn ’ t have another pair because you haven ’ t been home ), the picture frame on your desk doesn ’ t have any dust on it even though everything around it does ( most likely because you only put it out when you have guests, I would guess because you don ’ t like seeing the face of the wife you betrayed staring at you all day ), and *furthermore*, the key on your keychain, the one that opens your desk drawer, is excessively worn from use, I deduce because that drawer is where you lock up your wedding ring when you go to meet Ms. Tanaka! ” 
 
 > Mr. Datsun stood there silently, defeated by reason. John stared at Sherlock in blushing admiration. 
 
 > ” Unfortunately, ” the great detective continued, “ Ms. Tanaka is not an accountant for Nippon General Bank; she is in fact an employee of Honda Motor Company, your direct rival, where she works as a robotics technician and advisor to Mr. Soichiro Honda himself. In order to drive up market share for Honda, she has been reprogramming Datsun assembly line machines to build your dependable cars into bombs! ” 
 
 > ” No! ” the Datsun president exclaimed. “ That ’ s impossible! Tanaka-san loves me! ” 
 
 > Sherlock gathered his scarf and threw the old overcoat across his broad shoulders. “ I ’ m afraid the only thing she loves is profit. ” 
 
 > He opened the office door and, looking back over his shoulder, added, “ It ’ s elementary, my dear Datsun. ” 
 
 ~ 
 
 Daniel sat back in his computer chair and read over the story again. It was brilliant. He couldn ’ t wait to submit it to the forums and start reaping praise, but his reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. 
 
 “ Go ‘ way, mum, ” he said. “ I ’ m busy. ” 
 
 Ignoring this instruction, the handle clicked, the door swung with a creak on its hinges, and in stepped a tall figure in a long charcoal coat. 
 
 “ Hello Daniel, ” Sherlock Holmes said dismissively, his sharp eyes quickly scanning the room. Daniel froze at the sight. As Sherlock began looking over bookshelves and clothes hampers, Dr. Watson entered at his heels. He glanced over at Daniel and nodded a perfunctory greeting. 
 
 “ Bit of a shock, this, ” he said. “ Sorry. ” 
 
 Daniel ’ s eyes tracked slowly back to Sherlock, who was busy rummaging through the pile of notes on the floor by the trundle bed. 
 
 “ Just doing a bit of research, ” Watson said, leaning over Daniel to examine his computer. Daniel, still in awed silence, made no move to interfere. “ Laptop! ” John announced, and lifted it off the desk. He tossed it to Sherlock, who began to read fervidly. Finishing, he handed the computer back to Watson and squinted down at the still-frozen high school student. 
 
 “ Cute, ” Sherlock said. “ A bit dry though, wasn ’ t it? ” Daniel was alarmed. 
 
 “ Was it? ” he squeaked. 
 
 “ To be fair I think you captured John perfectly, ” Sherlock said. Upon hearing this, Watson began scanning the story too. “ In any case, ” the detective continued, “ your stories are actually what have brought us here. ” 
 
 “ You... You like them? ” Daniel said breathlessly. 
 
 “ Mm, no, ” Holmes said shortly. “ Tawdry little affairs for the most part, blindingly dull. ” 
 
 Daniel shook his head slowly. “ You don ’ t... *Sherlock Holmes* doesn ’ t like... ” 
 
 “ Captured me perfectly? ” John interrupts, looking up from the laptop. “ ‘ John stared at Sherlock in blushing admiration. ’ D ’ you know -- I think it ’ s exactly this kind of swill that makes people think we ’ re a couple. ” 
 
 “ The heart wants what it wants, John, ” Sherlock said dismissively. 
 
 “ Don ’ t you start, ” John retorted. “ I don ’ t *blush*. ” 
 
 “ The problem we have, Daniel, ” said Sherlock, turning his attention back to the fidgeting teenager in the office chair, “ is that someone else is reading your stories and acting them out. ” 
 
 “ They ’ re what..? ” 
 
 “ After you wrote ‘ A Scandal in Bolivia ’, someone actually blackmailed President Morales with Photoshopped pictures of him and an alleged mistress. And your story ‘ A Study in Charlotte ’ prompted a massive scare in North Carolina after several Tylenol bottles were discovered containing poisonous capsules -- you must ’ ve heard about that one. ” 
 
 Daniel shook his head, aghast. “ I... I don ’ t watch the news, ” he stammered. 
 
 “ All the same, Daniel, ” Watson said, handing the laptop back, “ we needed to see your next story before you posted it. I guess this means we ’ re headed to Japan. ” 
 
 “ Possibly, ” Sherlock said. “ Well, we ’ ve read the story. There ’ s nothing else for us here. ” He turned to leave, and was halfway out the door when Watson stopped him. 
 
 “ Sherlock wait -- shouldn ’ t we question him? You know, make sure *he ’ s* not the one committing these crimes? ” 
 
 Sherlock ’ s eyes flitted over to Daniel before returning to his partner. “ *Him*? ” he asked. “ You want to find out if *he* is running a multinational criminal network from the basement of a split level in Coventry? ” 
 
 “ Well, we should rule it out anyway, ” Watson replied. 
 
 “ God what *must* it be like in there? ” Sherlock demanded, grasping Watson ’ s head between his hands. “ Daniel Clark has thirty-seven friends on Facebook; his dustbin is full of tissues and he ’ s not been sick recently; he spends most of his spare time writing *fanfiction* for God ’ s sake; not to mention the fact that he ’ s never passed Elementary Chemistry so I *seriously doubt* he would even be able to poison his mum ’ s terrier ( which he has thought about doing, by the way ), let alone a whole State. ” 
 
 “ You see that? ” Watson asked, gesturing to Daniel ’ s stunned expression. “ *That* is what ‘ blushing admiration ’ looks like. When have I ever made that face? ” 
 
 “ Oh, you do it when you think I ’ m not watching, ” Sherlocked replied, brushing by him toward the door. “ Most people are entirely unaware of what their facial expressions give away. ” 
 
 “ Wait! ” Daniel called out after them. Watson paused and looked back. 
 
 “ Oh *fine*, ” said Sherlock, stepping back into the room without further prompting and picking up a marker. He took an Arthur Conan Doyle book from Daniel ’ s bookshelf and scribbled on the inside cover: “ Daniel, Please stop writing forever. You haven ’ t got the knack for it. Love, Sherlock Holmes. ” 
 
 And then he was gone.
