19centconstable | Case #1: Video

Entry tags:

Case #1: Video

[The video screen is navy blue and slightly blurry. From off-screen a man speaks. He has an accent which, if you are familiar with such things, is easily identifiable as being from Newfoundland. If you are not so in the know, you may think it is Irish. Or British. Or fake. He declares:]

I...believe this device and I have reached an understanding...

[The expanse of navy moves back. You have been looking at a close up of the man's policeman uniform. Now it is visible from neck to about mid-thigh in all its old-fashioned, high-collared, many buttoned glory. Because while the device and George may have come to an understanding, George does not understand how to frame a shot.]

Well. I-...oh.

[As a sort of after thought, he reaches up out of frame. When his hands appear again they are holding his navy blue custodian helmet, which has a silver colored maple leaf on the front. He rests the helmet against his hip.]

I'm Constable George Crabtree, Toronto Constabulary, station #4, and I'm very pleased to be here and meet all of you. ...Although I suppose I haven't done that yet. But I'm sure I'll be pleased when I do!

I've seen an airship before, but I've never been on one...that I can remember. But it's really an experience; much smoother than being on a boat. I don't get seasick myself, but I have an aunt who can't stomach travel like that in the slightest. Just.

[Vomit-y hand motion.]

All over.

Anyway. I'm very impressed by this whole business! This "thingy" here.

[He shakes the communicator.]

But! Especially-

[And then everything is a blur as George, communicator in hand, is moving through his room. When he stops, you are greeted with a lovely shot of: a toilet. The sort with a wall mounted tank and pull chain. Then George turns the camera back on himself, and manages to actually aim it at his excitedly grinning face. He hooks a thumb in the toilet's direction.]

Now that's fantastic! Did everybody get one?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Turbulence. That does sound very...turbulent.

I can't say I'm much of a sailor myself. We did take trips to the seashore when I was a lad, but it was mainly for the health benefits. Not for myself: our granny had a bad hip. But I do appreciate the explanation Mr.-...?

Sherlock Holmes. I myself have been subject to excursions for the purposes of health. {He scoffs.} The perils of sharing habitation with a doctor.

Congratulations. I myself am a bachelor. Our coroner is a lady doctor, though, and she's very good at it.

Sherlock...Holmes. You wouldn't be...any sort of detective, would you?

{Holmes just stares for a moment as, while he's heard of female doctors in his time there were...maybe four of them. What has come over the colonies? After that moment of being aghast he'll skip right to his customary explanation.}

I am the world's first, and quite possibly perhaps only, independent consulting detective. I have worked closely with Scotland Yard on numerous case, though I do not carry an official affiliation.

Yes, our Inspector is...quite the fan. He's much more cultured than you'd think on meeting him; he attends the theater and everything, he just has a very salty manner of speaking, but it does grow on you. However...and I'm terribly embarrassed to admit this, but: I had thought you were a book. I had no idea you were actually someone who was being written about. Although I should have suspected: Mr. Doyle has expressed an interest in writing something about Detective Murdoch as well. And I've heard the Detective speak highly of you too, so it's certainly an honor to meet you, whatever the case.

{Holmes smiles a little, though his brow furrows a bit at this Doyle person.} It is no end of flattering to hear that word of my cases has spread, in this case, to the colonies. I have only had occasion to visit Canada once, as a case took me to your capital.

{He prods his left hand with the fingers of his right.} As for being a book, I would find this to be incorrect, as I do not appear to be made of pages and binding.

Oh? What was the case?

And you're certainly not, of course. I didn't mean to imply. And printing a book on a person would be...quite a horrible way to die, actually.

I received a letter from a lady fearing that her life was in mortal peril—though by the time I arrived I am sorry to say this had already come to pass. She had been...living a second life, so to speak, to escape a madman, who had unfortunately found her. I believe it was the first time in my career that I had been retained by a corpse.

Someone does have to speak for the dead.

Were you able to bring her killer to justice?

Yes, by means of a rather clever trap. I do not know the culprit's fate, as Watson and I left shortly thereafter, and news of the case never occasioned to reach us.

If he was found out, I'm sure he was dealt with appropriately.

How did you trap him, though?

There were two others on the killer's...list, if you will, to complete his heinous plot of revenge for trifling matters. It remained to deduce which he would strike against next, and prevent that from occurring. The first was a man of regular habits and constant company, the judge who had sentenced him for earlier crimes, and there are few criminals empty-headed enough to attack such a man before an opportunity arises. The hard-working inkeeper, however, who had only his wife for company and protection—and she herself gone for the day due to a matter with her sister—would be a far easier mark.

I myself took his place, disguised, and the Canadian inspector and his men apprehended him as soon as he took out the knife he had used to rob poor Lady Penrose of her remaining days. In one fell swoop a second murder was prevented, and he handed us the evidence that likely saw him convicted for the first matter.

That's brilliant. I always enjoy employing disguise on a case. We once dressed young Higgins up as Prince Alfred, to foil an assassination attempt.

Yes, one must affect just the precise air of disinterest to impersonate royalty.

Oh, no. I didn't find the Prince to be like that at all. He was very personable; very friendly. ...Slightly too friendly, at all hours of the night, but it's hard to hold a positive outlook against a man.

{Holmes quirks an eyebrow.} That is queer, indeed. It would present an easier task for your colleague, in the least.

Henry's not much of an actor, but we did let him wave out the window. He was quite thrilled.

But I found it encouraging that the royal family wasn't terribly different from you or I, just more royal. And with more money. And their dressing takes a good deal longer and requires a lot of pinning. But otherwise they're quite similar to people.

I would believe, then, that you and I have met considerably different royalty. The mere mention at being alike would have made Princess Louise faint dead away. My brother has far more stories about such things than I, though I confess I never was enough concerned to commit any of them to memory.

Oh, a princess is likely a different matter altogether, being both a royal and a lady. I wouldn't say ladies are anything like you or I.

{He laughs with a little shake of his head.} The men are not so much removed, but on the point of the difference of ladies from me you will receive no argument. Nothing more shall be said on the matter, for to speak ill of a royal lady, even in slight, would be to impugn the most noted lady herself.

Ah! That does remind me. I am informed that...some years from now, only perhaps some matter of decades, there is yet another queen upon the English throne. Spectacular a notion, really, with the prolific issue the dear lady provided.

{This is, of course, the extent of Holmes' feminism. Ruling queens are splendiferous, but all other women who want to be in charge can stow it.}

Certainly, sir. I try not to speak ill of any ladies whatsoever. I like to think my aunts raised me better than that.

[George is fairly feminist in that he believes women could do most jobs just as well as a man could. He's sort of generally optimistic about the abilities of everybody, regardless of gender or race. This is something of a projection on his part, as, like many members of the working class, a part of him desperately yearns to be upper class, and clings to the hope that he might some day manage it. It's less an ambition; more of a daydream.]

Here's to hoping she does just as fine a job.

{Holmes rolls his eyes just a little bit. He has this picture of little Constable George being coddled by over-affectionate aunts, softened by all this female presence, which is most hypocritical as he was raised by a nanny and his grandmother.} An interesting upbringing, I would posit, one I might not even imagination, as I myself haven't an aunt. And I have no doubt that she will be any less a queen than the formidable lady herself.

[Some of them did, certainly, but I get the distinct impression others smoked cigars and taught him how to punch a man.]

I don't know. I don't think it was all that out of the ordinary.

[It was, of course. Not his aunt's parenting techniques, exactly, those were fairly ordinary. But most people weren't found on church doorsteps.]

{Holmes' grandmother likely did the same. But she was, of course, a lady.}

It is hard to determine such a thing, for how can one know an upbringing besides their own?

[George considers this carefully.]

I did have friends my age, and cousins, and we all seemed to get the same sort of discipline and education. We went on the same sort of outings, and I was given presents at the appropriate times. I definitely feel that I was cared for. All in all, I think it was a much more average childhood than I could have had with mother. Not that she isn't a fine woman, she just couldn't have afforded it.

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}

{Video}