Shirlock Holmes IV
The Adventures of Shirlock Holmes and Inspector Twatson
'The Millennium Bastard'
('Hound of the Bastardvilles')
by Alan Salerno (c) 2001
The Comic's Crypt
Scene I: Bed time for Twats-O!
[It is now Twatson's turn in the hospital bed, healing from a stab wound to his chest from a near fatal sacrifice attempt by Shirlock's Nephew. He is seen lying on his bed alone in the hospital room reading a card Shirlock wrote him. The camera zooms in on the card inscription. It reads...
Ya can't even sit two tot's without being your own casualty. I hope you die.
Twatson begins to sob and blows his nose in the card. He slips the card into an envelope, seals it and places it on a night stand next to the bed. He takes a razor blade from the same stand and tries to slit his wrists. But before gets a chance to, he feels a bowel movement coming and grabs his bed pan. At this time, the Chief and Shirlock enter his room.]
Chief & Holmes: SURPRISE!
[Twatson is startled and drops his bed pan, thus making a loud clanging noise through out the entire hospital floor.]
Hlms: I bet ya didn't expect us now, did ya?
Twtn: [He thinks and remembers something] Oh, your just in time! Ya know that nurse that you thought fancied ya?
Hlms: [Surprised look] Wha..? Yeah?
Twtn: She left ya a note! [hands Holmes the card he just sealed] Open it later in private! That's what she wanted.
Hlms: Thanks ole pal! Ya know that card I sent ya was just a joke, didn't ya?
Twtn: [Fake laugh] Oh, yeah, Ha Ha. Your a riot, you are.
Hlms: The Chief has something to say, don't ya Chief? [elbows the Chief]
[The chief is watching the telly and isn't paying attention to the other two]
Chf: Did you say something Holmes?
Hlms: You said you had something to tell Twatson, remember?
Chf: [Finally remebers] Oh yes, your promotion! Due to your heroic act of helping nab Edward the babysitter, the Law Enforcment board decided to promote you from the rank of Assistant Inspector to Inspector! What do you think about that?
Twtn: [Clutching his chest] Can I celebrate later? Don't mind me, but I'm in quite bit of pain at the moment.
Hlms: [Looking at an xray of Twatsons chest] Blimey! What the hell did they do to ya?
Twtsn:Well, the doctor said they had to replace my stabbed heart with a baboons heart. He said I should have no major problems, execpt for one slight side affect.
Chf: And that is...
Twtn: I'd rather not talk about it right now, if you don't mind. [He roll's over half way in his bed and tries to look at his arse, thus making a dreadful grimace. The other two Dic's make the same face] Yeah, ole Doctor Bonzo says I'll be ready to leave in a week or so. [he starts to pick "Things" out of his hair and eats them] I've had this strange craving for magots and termites. I wonder why? [scratches himself like an ape]
Chf: Hopefully it will pass. It's probably just temporary trauma due to your operation. Anyway, I was wondering if you could sign these documents, endorsing your part in the last case you helped solve. This also signifies your new rank. Without your penning, we can't promote you. [he hands Twatson some papers to sign. Twatson signs them and gives them back]
Twtn: It's about bloody time! All these years on the force, and not one bit of incentive, until now that is! At least I won't have to take orders from Shirlock any more!
Hlms: That's what you think! Enough of the good news, now for the BAD bits. The Chief is retiring and I've been chossen to take his place. Meet your new supervisor, Twatty!
[Holmes reach's out to shake Twatsons hand, but as soon as he does, Twatson hurls a clump of shit at Holme's face. The camera turns to Twatson as he is jumping, hooting and screaming like a chimpanzie. The heart transplant has obviously striken Twatson with some serious side effects. A doctor with two helpers enter the room to control Twatson. They strap him down to his bed and transquilize him with a suringe.]
Dctr: He's been doing this all week. I'm sure it will fade sooner or later. [Handing the cheif a bunch of bananas] Leave these here for when he awakes. It seems to calm him down for some reason
Chf: No problem Doc, will do!
[The Chief and Holmes stare at Twatson one more time and leave the room.]
Scene II: The Beginning of the End?
[The view changes back to Holmes's Office with Twatson and Holmes sitting at their desks. Twatson is reading a book plainly title 'Simians; Our Distant Cousins'. A dust bin in the corner of the room is over flowing with banana peels.]
Hlms: Well, I'm glad your appetite's back to normal. [looks at the banana peels] At least your not stuffing the them down your crotch like you usually do!
Twtn: [He opens the front of his trousers and pulls out a bunch of grapes on a vine. He pulls one off and eats it] There isn't much room for them today anyhow! So Holmes ole boy, anything new on the "Crime" agenda this week?
Hlms: Not yet. But being in London near the end of the year and all, something horrible is likely to occur.
[As soon as he says that, the phone rings]
Twtn: You spoke to soon, Shirlock! That's probably a new case!
Hlms: Sod it! Let the answering machine get it. I could use some rest for a day or two. Besides, I'M the new Chief around hear. [Pointing his thumb at him self] For now on I'M the one who makes the decisions and gives the orders! What ever I say goes, and that's that! [folding his arms across his chest. The machine picks up the message. It's Mrs. Holmes.]
Wife: SHIRLOCK? I KNOW YOUR THERE SO YA BETTER PICK UP AND ANSWER THIS INSTANT OR YOU'LL REGRET IT TONIGHT, YA WILL!!! [in a threatening voice tone, she yells at the top of her lungs to remind Holmes to get a few things from the store before he goes home tonight.]
Hlms: [Very apprehensively answers the phone] Yes dear. Your right dear. Anything you say dear! Yup, see ya tonight. [He makes kissing sounds and hangs up]
Twtn: [Very sarcastically] Oh, Your the Chief of things around here alright, at least 'til ya get home! [Makes the knife cutting off the penis motion with his hands along with a short sound effect]
Hlms: Oh, she aint that bad. Ya just got to get use to her, that's all.
Twtn: Like the milk man and the post man have?
Hlms: [Thinking of a good comeback to that, and say's] At least her arse doesn't have a tag that reads "Inflate to 60 PSI" like your's does!
Twtn: Oh, how original is that? I havent heard that old line in at least an hour or two. [the phone rings again and Shirlock asnwers it]
Hlms [Talking into the phone loudly thinking it's his wife again] NOW WHAT DO YA WANT? Oh, it's you Mayor! Sorry, I thought it was my... What? Some one has done what? [he writes down some words on paper and hangs up the phone. Saying to Twatson...] That was the Mayor of London! He says some mad Scotsman has threatened to bomb the Millennium Dome on New Years eve unless the Royal Crown jewels in Edinburgh are delivered to this address by then! [He hands the address to Twatson. Twatson reads it]
Twtn: Crikey! Just when ya think things were getting peaceful around here, the shit suddenly hits the fan, doesn't it? [reading the address] South Brixton? Isn't this the same address where we nicked those IRA rougies two years ago?
Hlms: Precisely! That's exactly what bothers me. Even though certain Scots and the IRA CLAIM their not in cahoots, they use their fake animosity towards eachother as an attempt to undermine the security of the United Kindom! If we don't nab this 'Millennium Bastard' soon, he might set off the start to what may well be World War III! These guys have ties all over the world. Unfortunatly, the old adage 'The Sun never sets on British Soil' has become just that; OLD! If I were the King, cunts like this wouldn't have a chance! I'd take the entire world over and finaly rid of these types!
Twtn: 'King Shirlock'! Now THAT'S got a ring to it!
Hlms: 'Queen Twatty'! Sounds like something from "Top of the Pop's"!
Twtn: ...and heres your crown, your Highness! [He dumps the dust bin full of banana skins on Holmes's head. Holmes takes the grapes and stuffs them in Twatson's mouth.]
Hlms: Dear oh dear oh dear, you,ve got piles! [He squeezes a tube of pile cream on Twatsons face. They both look at them selves in the mirror and laugh. The Mayor of London enters the office and see's this]
Myr: [Staring at both men] Isn't it a bit late for trick or treating? [He slips on a banana peal and lands on his arse] WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON IN HEAR!!! [to Holmes, quite angrily] I thought you were supposed to be taking the place of the Chief?
Hlms: [Takes the bananas and pail of his head] Don't mind us Mayor. Just doing a bit of celebrating, being promoted and all.
Twtn: [Spitting out grapes and wiping pile cream off his face] For moral sake, that is!
Myr: That's something you two can do OFF duty. Your not being paid to rave it up on the Queens time. [Holmes helps the Mayor stand back up] Have you got anything new on that bomb threat?
Hlms: Blimey! You just told us about it a few minutes ago.
Myr: Well, this isn't one of our usual cases now, is it? If we don't catch this guy ASAP, the crew in parliment will have ALL our heads. It's bad enough our tourist are being scared off from visiting London because it's known for terrorism. If we loose any more revenue from lack of tourism, we'll have to deduct funds from our law enforcement kitty, thus letting CERTAIN detectives go to fix the budget, if you get my drift! If you guys can't handle this case then I'll find someone who can! Is that understood?
Both Twtsn&Hlms:[Mockingly standing at attention and saluting the Mayor] Aye aye, Capiton!
Myr: Don't get wise with me! I'm very close to firing the both of you, so get cracking! I want a report on this case from you two by tomorrow night, and if I don't recieve it...
[Mayor makes a hand motion across his own neck symbolizing decapition, along with the sound effect. He exits the office with a banana peel stuck to his arse. As he walks down the hall, people point at him and laugh.]
Hlms: Well, I guess the grocery list is going to have to wait a bit. The old slag's gonna have to do her own shopping tonight!
Wife's voice on Phone machine: I HEARD THAT!!!
Twtn: [Smashing the answering machine with a cricket bat] There! That'll teach her for ease dropping!
Hlms: I think I can handle my own wife, thank you.
Wife's voice from the smashed machine: I HEARD THAT TOO, ARSE-HOLE! [Holmes finishes off the machine with a few more whacks of the cricket bat]
Scene III: The Search is On!
[Camera opens on a view of our two hero's sitting in a pub drinking pints. A song called 'I Wish you Were a Beer' By 'The Cycle Sluts From Hell' is playing]
Twtn: Now why would a mad bomber want something as priceless as the Royal Crown jewels sent to a place that's already hot from terrorism?
Hlms: You must learn to understand the mind of some one as deranged as him. People like this are so politically motivated that they start to loose grips of there original objective and eventually leave a trail straight to their lair. They grow so passionate to their cause that they often forget their professional habits entirely. Maybe he's setting a trap to keep hostage of whomever delivers the goods incase his plot fowls up or maybe he doesn't care if he's caught or wants to be nicked so he can go down in history as some sort of martyr, thus having other idiots worshipping him that will create more chaos. Another reason why he wants the goods left there may be a politcal statement. He probably knew about the IRA guys being nicked there so he feels he must make a point by commemorating that spot, in his own twisted sort of way. Scare tactics like bomb threats and so forth are made by them because they lack the eloquence and political capabilties to fulfill their desires and needs as a human being. If only these people had the tolerance and dicipline to stay in school and sort their problems out in a proper fasion, the world would be a much better place. Don't you agree Twatson?
Twtn: I'll have to admit, for a gill-sized kettle ya got between your ears there, an awful lot a steam comes out of it! [Laughing]
Hlms: Well, I don't hear YOU expressing any input to this conversation that YOU started in the first place anyway. Why don't YOU try to sort something out for once in your miserable, futile life!
Twtn: Blimey! I try to compliment ya and you get all girly and defensive on me! [to a woman sitting in the pub] Oi, missy? My mate hear needs a fem-nap if you could spare one. It's obviously his time of the month, isn't it GIRLOCK! [Several people in the pub laugh with Twatson, but not Holmes.]
Hlms: So, in the midst of all this chaos you can still find the time to make jokes, can ya? I AM the Chief of Dic's now, or did you forget? I think that new rookie we got in last week could use some remedial training. How would you like to be his mentor? I do have the power to hand this case over to anyone I want, don't I?
Twtn: [His face changes from laughter to a look of shock] WOT? You know I don't know the first thing about detective training. How would I go about doing something like that?
Hlms: [Begining to grin] That's for YOU to figure out. So belt up and take your medicine like a big girl now, Twat-scum. If I have to do it, then so will you! Besides, there gonna need me back at the Yard to sort out all the fuck-ups you are bound to make. This is your golden opportunity I'm giving you so don't mess it up. Understand?
Twtn: I guess I don't have a choice then, do I?
Hlms: Well, if your choice is doing this or waiting on the dole line, then I guess you do. [Now trying to reasure Twatson] Don't worry yourself so much about it. You'll probably thank me when it's all over with.
[A person sitting at the other end of the bar picks up a briefcase at the foot of a stool, goes to the lavy and then exits the pub.]
Hlms: Besides, I'll need something to put in that report the mayor ordered us to complete by tomorrow, so recruiting another person to help us with this case should keep him at bay 'til we get a lead.
Twtn: [Pushing himself from the bar] I'll be right back. All this stress has made me have to relieve my self.
[Twatson grabs his pint and goes to the lavy. As soon as he enters it, a huge explosion is heard and everyone in the pub hits the floor. After the smoke clears, a view of where the lavy use to be is nothing but a vacant razed lot. Twatson is seen with smoke pouring off him, his trousers around his ankle's, shirt torn to shreds and the toilet seat around his neck while clutching his pint which is surprisingly unscathed]
Twtn: I think we just found our first lead. [drinking his pint then coughing smoke from his mouth and flapping it away]
Hlms: You all right, Twatty?
Twtn: I've had worse times, I guess. [to publican] Who was that guy that just left?
Pblcn:[Creeping up from behind the bar] Dunno. Never saw him before. He came in just before you and Holmes sat down.
[Twatson tosses the toilet seat from around his neck as he and Holmes run out of what's left of the pub to try to see the person who just left.]
Twtn: Do ya think that was meant for us?
Hlms: Well, with us wearing these togs, we might as well be Mods' strolling through Belfast. Did ya get a look at his face?
Twtn: I'm not sure. Maybe if I saw him again I would recognize him.
Hlms: That's good enough for me. Ya'd be surprized how small the world becomes as time goes on.
Twtn: What's that supposed to mean?
Hlms: You'll find out if, or when we ever run into him again.
Twtn: What makes ya think it was a him and not a her?
Hlms: Exactly my freind! Your finally learning your first rule of being a good detective; Never leave any stone unturned! That's how this sort of thing works. It will all come to you eventually.
Twtn: What will come to me?
Hlms: The art of being a professional and seasoned Inspector!