Sherlock Homey 10 DJ Corisis

Sherlock Homey

Lightning cracked through the sky as Sir. Mandrake played the piano in his rather large home, awaiting the arrival of his guests. The air was filled with the somber music of the piano, but soon, it would be filled by the shrill sound of a woman shriek!

"The professor has been murdered!" she cried through the house, waking all of the professor's relatives sleeping throughout different rooms in the house. Within minutes, the number for the town's top detective was dialed. The result: a man soon pounding on the door to have it opened for him.

The woman led him upstairs to the professor's quarters, where police had already gathered to examine the area and look for clues. It was not long after the detective had viewed the scene and the many possible suspects that he had already made a choice. He removed his spectacles and announced to the maid who was still shaken, "this, is a job for Sherlock Holmes."

The maid gasp with surprise along with the entire room of police and suspects as the world famous detective was chosen to crack the case of the murder of the professor, lightning flashing through the sky again.

The following morning, the doorbell to the house rang, the maid rushing to answer it, knowing exactly who it was. She opened the door to see a tall man in the brown trench coat that he was so known for, but then she saw that his hat was on sideways and he did not have a pipe like he was known to. She also noticed a short chubby man at his side.

"Good afternoon sir." She said, moving her arm to show them inside the house. The two men nodded slightly and walked inside the house.

"Ah, you must be the infamous Sherlock Holmes." A voice called from the top of the stairs. The three of them looked up to see the detective standing at the top of the stairs.

"O—oh no man, see, Sherlock Holmes, he's my brother. I'm Sherlock Homey." Sherlock Homey said, waving to the top of the stairs.

"I beg your pardon?" the detective said, descending the stair case.

"No need to beg anything, dude! Everything is good here!"

"Well, where in the world is Sherlock Holmes?!"

"He's on vacation…" the short stubby man said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh! I'm sorry lady and gent!" Sherlock Homey said, as he pointed to the man at his side, "This is my assistant, Watson. Course, I call him 'lil Watt."

"Please don't sir," Watson said, rolling his eyes again, "I am simply here because I am legally bound by my contract to be here."

"Whatever you say, 'lil Watt." Sherlock Homey said with a chuckle.

"Uh, gentlemen, we have a small situation." The detective said, pointing upstairs.

"What's up, yo?" Sherlock Homey asked.

"If you would please follow me." The detective said, leading the way up the stairs, obviously annoyed by the replacements manners and slang.

"I 'aint never been in a house this big before." Sherlock Homey said, impressed by the size of the house.

"Look inside your head and you will find a space of equal capacity…" the detective said under his breath, but replied to Sherlock Homey with, "yes, it is quite big isn't it? I would certainly fancy an abode this size."

"Oh, I've always wanted a boat too, man! You know, for fishing and all that kinds of stuff."

"Abode, not a boat," the detective said sharply. Sherlock Homey was silent for a few moments before he asked,

"Well do you think this professor dude has a boat I could borrow?"

"I don't know!" the detective snapped, "Why don't you ask him?"

"Sounds good, man." Sherlock Homey said, nodding his head.

"What are the details, detective?" Watson asked. Happy to hear an intelligent question, he replied,

"It happened late last night. The professor was having some of his family over for a few days to celebrate his birthday, when he was found to be dead. We're not sure who did it, but everyone present in the house at the scene of the crime has not been allowed to leave the premises."

"I see… have any clues been found?"

"Nothing as of yet," The detective said as they neared a room, opening the door saying, "this was the scene of the crime." He opened it for the three of them to view the professor's body on the ground, surrounded by police and the group of possible suspects.

"Oh no! This is terrible!" Sherlock Homey cried out.

"It certainly is. This man was not only a brilliant musician, but he was a doctor of science and medicine also! He has saved many lives in this town with his knowledge. A great tragedy such as this has not passed in many years." The detective informed.

"Who am I going to borrow a boat from now?!" Sherlock Homey cried.

The detective glared the Sherlock Homey and said, "That is not the issue at hand. Sir Drake has been murdered, and you need to figure out who did it."

"'ey, man, dats messed up." Sherlock Homey said, shaking his head.

"It truly is."

"Who would take out a guy with a boat?"

"Forget about the boat Mr. Homey!" the detective yelled, "one of the people in this room is a murderer, and you need to figure out which one."

"Well the way I see it," Sherlock Homey said looking around the room, "there are to people who I am certain did not kill this man with the boat; my partner 'lil Watt, and yourself

Mr. Detective."

"I do have a name Mr. Homey." The detective sighed, "You would know that if you weren't so rude as to not ask."

"'ey, it's rude of you to not tell me it, man!" Sherlock Homey said.

"And why do you leave yourself out of the group of known innocents?"

"Ha, 'cause that was some party the other night," Sherlock Homey said laughing as he stared into space, "I can hardly remember what I did after the party."

"He fell asleep on the floor and slept in a puddle of drool," Watson said, "I can vouch for him, don't worry, Detective."

"Oh, thanks, 'lil Watt! I can always count on you. So there is only five people it could have been: the maid, or one of his four relatives staying at his house." Sherlock Homey said.

"Brilliant deduction…" the detective said, rolling his eyes.

"I wanna interview each person separately in their own room. 'Lil Watt, you stay here and search for clues."

"It's Watson, Sir…" Watson said, "And, detective, would you like to assist me?"

"Alright! All you guys go to your rooms!" Sherlock Homey commanded. All of the guests left the room, Sherlock Homey following behind them and Watson and the detective staying in the room to search for clues.

Sherlock Homey entered the first guest's room and found it to be a man.

"Hey, man. What's been going on?" Sherlock Homey asked.

The man looked around strangely and said, "My brother just died," as if the fact couldn't be more obvious to him.

"O—oh, so you were his brother, that's pretty decent. Did you kill him?"

"Of course not!" the brother exclaimed, "we may not have always gotten along well, and we had our disagreements, but I would never kill my own brother."

"So then where were you hangin' out at this time of his death?"

"I was in the kitchen getting a midnight snack."

"What was it?"

"A piece of pie."

"What kind was it?"


"Was it good?"

"Indeed it was."

Sherlock Homey stared hardly at the man, and then exclaimed, "No man would dare lie about pie. I think we're all done here. Thanks for your info, man." He left the room and traveled to the next one.

"Oh hey! You're the maid who let us in!" he said when he entered the room.

"Oh what am I going to do, Mr. Homey?! My boss is dead!" the woman cried out as he entered.

"He—ey! Chi—ill lady!" Sherlock Homey dragged out, "you never know! Things could change."

"He's dead…"

"That doesn't mean it's the end though, man! I once had this uncle, died in his chair. The next morning, alive as…alive as…well alive as something that's really alive! They all said that he had just fallen asleep in his chair, but I—I knew." Sherlock Homey said, tapping his head with his pointer finger as if he knew a great secret of the world.

"What am I going to do Mr. Homey?" the woman cried out.

"I'm sure that we can find who did this. I can see that you're really sad over this guys death, so I'm just gunna go so I can figure out who did this and seek revenge on them for making you so sad."

"Thank you Mr. Homey…" the woman said as he left the room.

Sherlock Homey found Watson waiting outside the door.

"Have you found anything, Sir?"

"Naw, man… he was just getting a slice of pie, and she's really sad, so there are only three people left who coulda done it. You find any clues 'lil Watt?"

"Just a piece of pink cloth and that he was stabbed three times with a letter opener…"

"Thanks 'lil Watt. I'll keep an eye out for anything to go with that."

"It's Watson, Sir…" Watson said as he turned and returned to the professor's room.

Sherlock Homey entered the next room and found another woman.

"Whoa, you're a real looker, lady." Sherlock Homey said.

"Why, thank you. But I have a fiancé. And my name is Michelle."

"Are you holding the wedding off 'cause of your brother's death?"

"He wasn't my brother," the woman said, "I'm dating his brother in the room you first visited. And I've never been so happy to see that man gone! He stole my boyfriend's ideas you know… Almost everything he knew in science he learned from my fiancé! He doesn't want to admit it, but under all that sadness, he's actually glad to be rid of him."

"So—o… you're not single?" Sherlock Homey said, stepping closer to her. He stepped on a piece of clothing on the floor, and after picking it up said, "You really shouldn't leave clothes on the floor like that you know Miss. Michelle. Especially is they are a light color like pink, like this! Is someone steps on it, it could get a stain!" he extended his arm to hand it to her, and saw that it had a tear in it. He said, "Oh! You got a tear in this… you know how to sew?"

"Can't say that I do."

"You're lucky that my mamma taught me then." He said, as he went to the desk to find a sewing kit, "so what were you doing last night?"

"I was trying to think of a way to get back at my fiancé's brother for all that he has done to him."

"Hold that thought! I just finished sewing this thing," Sherlock Homey said, holding up the pink piece of clothing, a hole patched up, "you got some scissors?"


"I'll just use a letter opener from the desk then…" he said, going through the desk, looking for the sharp object, "can't find it." He concluded, finally just biting the excess string off.

"Are we done yet?" Michelle asked coldly.

"Do you want this back?" Sherlock Homey asked, holding up the pink clothing.

"No, I tore it somehow and now it's ruined."

"I'll just throw it away then…" he said, throwing it on the floor and leaving her in the room as he closed the door.

He entered the next room to find another man, this one lying on his bed and throwing a ball up in the air and catching it again.

"You here to interrogate me?" he asked.

"No, I'm here to question you." Sherlock Homey replied.

"Well question all you want, I'm innocent." The man said, throwing the ball at Sherlock Homey. Sherlock Homey caught it and threw it back, the two men playing catch for a few moments in silence, until Sherlock Homey asked,

"Did you kill him?"

"nope." The man replied.

"Good enough for me." He said. And he left the room.

"One last person to check…" he said as he entered the last room. He found another woman, this one much older than the others however.

"Hey, old lady. Who do you thing done it?" he asked.

"I would ask you to please not speak to me in such a manner," The old woman snapped, "I was his mother, you know. I loved him with all my heart."

"Can you prove that?"

"Being his mother is enough to prove it!"

"Hmm… you could be telling the truth…"

"I even made him a pie yesterday that his older brother ended up eating."

"There is no way you could have done it then. Pie and murder just don't go together in a person."

"Your reasoning makes no sense."

"Well then your sense doesn't have reason."

The old woman was quiet for a minute as she thought and then said, "my goodness, you may have a point there…" Sherlock Homey left the room with the woman contemplating his philosophy, and returned to the master bedroom, calling all the guests back along with him, to find Watson and the detective talking.

"Have you found out who it is, Sherlock Homey?" Watson asked as he entered the room.

Sherlock Homey was silent for a moment as everyone looked upon him for an answer. Then he blurted out, "Michelle!" the entire room gasp. Then he continued, "you may want to have a professional check out my sew job done on your pink night ware. I'm scared my seam may come undone 'cause I had to bite the string off instead of cutting it. It's too bad your letter opener was missing."

Michelle started inching towards the door, then as Sherlock Homey began to say, "now I must admit that I have no idea who—"

"She's getting away!" the detective shouted, interrupting Sherlock Homey, as Michelle bolted out of the room. He chased after her, soon bringing her back in handcuffs to the scene of the crime.

"Brilliant deduction and use of physiological warfare, Mr. Homey!" the detective said, impressed with his abilities, "I had no idea you were so keen as to rooting out the criminals! She might have gotten away if it had been a direct accusation!"

"Indeed I too and surprised Sir. Had you accused her directly, she would not have waited around to see your reasoning behind your suspicion and if she really was found out!" Watson said.

"Aw thanks, 'lil Watt. I guess I am just as good as my bro, Sherlock Holmes!" Sherlock Homey said proudly, taking a music player out of his pocket and beginning to listen to it as he left the room, his job well done.