Archive of Our Own

Sherlock Paul Edward Arthur George Lewis Holmes was once a highly respected consulting detective along with his partner, and lover, John Watson. Unfortunately, due to a horrible series of conspicuous events, John Watson passed away in his lover’s arms. Bleeding out thick red blood from too many deep wounds to the face. 

I’ll be fine, Sherry… He said, then he died.

Sherlock was never the same. 

He closed himself off, he stopped putting effort into his work, and not before long, he wasn’t consulted. Sherlock did try to recover, even if just to hold onto what little he still had of his lover. Opening up to smaller jobs. People still came to him; for his reputation still preceded him.

He kept it up as long as he could before he stopped taking jobs, and started to drink. 

Every day since then was the same gray monotony. Get up, get dressed, go to the office, stay there until closing, go home, shower, and sleep. 

Until it had been 6 years since of the same things.

He felt like a dead man walking. 

His eyes looked tired in the way that looked as if he hadn’t truly lived in years.

It seemed like there was nowhere to go but up, yet everyday was worse than the next. 

Until he got a visit. 

An old friend of his, Gerry- (Greg?), at least, he’s pretty sure that’s his name, came into his office on a rather bleak Sunday. 

“Sherlock Paul Edward Arthur George Lewis Holmes, my, look how you’ve aged,” he eyed him like a moldy lump of cheese from the side of the road. 

Indeed did he look horrible, his hair slicked back with its own grease from weeks of unwash, five o’clock shadow that never seemed to grow any more, and the horrid bags under his eyes. 

Sherlock looked up and stared at him, raising a suspicious looking brown paper bag clearly holding something to his lips then taking a long sip. He purposely sipped it as loud as possible. 

Greg’s? eyebrow rose, “is that-”

“It's coffee.”

“And the rappers all over the floor are actually just the carpet,” he responded along with a deep sigh, not taking anything Sherlock said seriously. “Well, either way I don’t really care, there's been a case, and I want your help.”

Sherlock took another sip of his “coffee”, “I stopped taking jobs.”

“And Anderson stopped his apparent ‘stupidity’.”

Sherlock looked impressed, “did he really?”

“No, he died from a heart attack.” He fired back untruthfully. “Get up, we’re going.”

George? grabbed the bagged bottle from his hand and dropped it into the trash can, which was just Sherlocks office corner where take out boxes had accumulated. 

Sherlock sighed and picked himself up from his seat. 

“What in the fuckles is that?” He looked at the braided hair coming out from his sleeves.

“I grew out my armpit hair,” he said before grabbing his stupid detective hat and his stupidly long, black trench coat. Slipping them on and walking down the hallway, his coat flaring out behind him.

Gina? looked up as if praying for some kind of divine intervention. Then followed Sherlock out to his car. 

←→←→←→←→←→

“Why are you bringing me in?” Sherlock asked before taking a sip of “coffee” from the canteen he pulled from his coat pocket.

“We found a set of bones, and we need you to figure out as much as you can from them,” he sighed, “we think we possibly have a murder on our hands.”

Sherlock just grunted in response as they pulled into the driveway of a Chuck E Cheese. 

They both stepped out of the car, Sherlock looked up to the building with sadness clawing at his heart. Him and John used to come here, egg the place and do shoot outs before the police were called to remove them both. He missed the old days.

Gordon? and Sherlock walked into the building ducking under some of the police tape and walking past other cops who were talking with citizens from the area.

Walking into the back and looking at where the bones still were laying.

“We hadn’t moved them yet, but we’ve taken enough pictures so you can move them if you want to.” God? looked over not so subtly at Sherlock.

Sherlock ignored him and almost broke out into tears at the scene before him. The Chuck E Cheese mascot suit was laid out as if it were sleeping, the front had been cut off from the back and the bones were laid out in the suit. 

Him and John used to cut up the Chuck E cheese suits back in the day as well. Fun times lost to death.

Another detective walked up to them both holding out his hand, “You must be Sherlock, pleased to meet you.”

Sherlock looked at him from under the rim of his cap, it cast a shadow over his eyes, “ John used to call me that,” he whispered. 

“Oh my god,” Ginny? muttered under his breath.

The detective laughed nervously before backing away slowly then running out the door as fast as he could. 

Sherlock paid no mind and kneeled by the remains, they were perfectly lined up with the costume. All of which was laid out on the floor of a cold staff only changing room. 

“How did you guys find the body? Did someone call it in?”

Greg? looked up, “Hannah, one of the newish hires had her birthday party here, when she came looking for the cake that was supposed to be coming out he found the remains lying here. None of the staff came in here ‘cause, and I quote, ‘I ain’t paid enough to deal with whatever that horrible smell was’ so they just left it even after the smell had left.

“When we only found these bones we knew we needed someone to get information from the remains since there isn’t much evidence left, we already have a missing persons list, we just need to narrow it down. They were found, uh, let me think… Oct 21st 2022, and with the way they’ve completely gone to just bones we can figure they’ve been here awhile.”

Sherlock sighed, “from these leftovers, I could possibly find a height, race, and age. And most definitely their sex.” He looked over the bones presented before him. All the same pale off white color. The humerus, tibia, skull and pelvis. Where were all of the rest of the bones?

Gerald? looked slightly better, knowing he would finally have some leads. “Oh! That reminds me, there was something else here as well.” She pulled his phone out and showed Sherlock a picture of a plate with an entire wheel of cheese. “We think whoever did this first tried to seduce them, everyone knows the only way to entice someone is through using cheese.”

“Of course,” Sherlock responded. John had done the same with Sherlock after all. 

Grayson? opened his mouth as if to say something before being interrupted by shouts from the front of the building. His eyes widened before he rushed out of the room and down the long hallway leading to the main room. Sherlock wasn’t far behind him.

They both had their bubble blasters up and their body pillows of mickey mouse up shielding them in case violence had broken out. 

What they saw shocked them, it was, in all his terrifying glory, Thee Elmo . . . 

He stood tall at 3 foot. Seemingly towering over everyone in the room. Sherlock shivered as the cold all black tiny little itty-bitty eyes started at him. Elmo’s hands were in the pockets of his trench coat, the sides were turned up against the nonexistent wind. 

“Elmo says,” Elmo had started talking in his high-pitched voice, “ be warned .”

Genesis? seemed to have gotten himself back on track. “What do you mean?” He asked, a shake in his voice.

“ This is just on the cusp of The Sesame Street ,” Elmo answered back, “ This is more than just you , this is much bigger than you think it is .”

Everyone in the room had their bubble blasters focused on Elmo, he never once moved from his spot in the middle of the room, but they weren’t about to take any chances. 

It didn’t seem to matter though Elmo booked it for the door. Naruto running as fast as he could, arms flung behind him and head dipped down. He disappeared through the doors and the rest of the remaining detectives ran for their lives. 

“He’s gonna falafel us!”

“We’re gonna get falafeled!” 

Screams of terror filled the room. Graham? and Sherlock still ran for the doors pushing outside and looking around for a hint of red body hair. 

They saw nothing.

“MUFFIN FUGGLER!” Gabriel? shouted in anger, “we let the furry get away!”

“We?” Sherlock asked, “I don’t have partners.”

Gwendolyn? had the overwhelming urge to kick his teeth in. But then he looked up and saw a nun in full garb painting a sign by the building’s siding. His eyes widened, “NUNS DON’T WORK ON SUNDAYS!”

Sherlock had his back turned and in almost slow motion Greg? saw the bubble blaster aimed at Sherlock’s back, he quickly pushed him out of the way and took the hit from the bubbles. 

Elmo ran, Naruto running into the sunset before growing wings using an unknown jutsu and flying into the sun, burning into a flaming pile of disgusting red fur. 

Sherlock fell to his knees and cried, “No! You can’t die! Gavin(?)!”

Greg? sighed quietly, “ avenge me …” 

Greg…? had gotten clapped too hard to keep living. Clapped like a preschooler. 

He died. Es muy esta muerte. 

Sherlock wailed at the sky. Holding his dear friend's body close. 

He looked up, seeing a bright light. It was Dora.

She looked down upon the two basic birches before her. She flexed her jacked arms, then her legs. 

“Can you say, muerte ?” She asked in a deep voice, it almost seemed to shake the ground. 

“Dora…” Sherlock looked absolutely distraught.

“ The Canadians have fallen .” 

It was the end of the world.

The ever eternal god Barney wept, he never got to eat Chuck E Cheese pizza ever again. The End.