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"My apologies for not coming to class last week. I had a feeling none of you would have appreciated me sharing a particularly nasty virus. I am glad to see that you're all alive and well after the rain nonsense and Seely and Z running last week's class.

Let's move on. Most of you will know this week's villain if only by reputation alone. There is debate as to whether the case files of Sherlock Holmes are fact or fiction and whether Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote them or if they were, in fact, passed on to Conan Doyle by Doctor John Watson, the narrator of the stories. To avoid any charges of defamation, let's assume they're fictional.

In Holmesian fashion, this week you will have to solve the mystery, track down your opponent before you can defeat them. Keep in mind that this week's topic is the evil genius and that in the evil genius you will often meet your match. Don't fall into their trap without a plan."

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The Danger Shop was set up as Victorian London. It was foggy and there were cobblestone roads and horse-drawn carriages about. This was a rather seedy part of London, so it was best to mind your pocket.

"You there!" Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard approached. "What with Holmes out of town, I suspect you'll be wanting to poke your nose into police affairs." Without waiting for you, he continued. "As you would know from the Times, this is the third murder of this kind. Strangulation and strange residue on the victim's clothing. It's almost as if the murderer is leaving a calling card, trying to get someone's attention. Take a look around if you'd like. Maybe you can find something we've missed."

Feel free to take a look around, mod what you find and mod your witnesses. See the next OCD thread for your next stop.

Pippi looked around the area where the body was found. Pippi's favorite Holmes case was "The Red Headed League" and she often thought of starting one.

Then she inspected the victim's neck to see if she could discover with what the poor sod had been strangled and in what manner. (Face to face or from the side, or behind.)

She checked the hands and arms for signs of a struggle.

Then she inspected the clothing to see if she could deduce what it was and how it got there.

Hamlet pulled his jacket around himself to block out the coldness. For a hologram, the weather in this version of London was still surprisingly realistic. He followed Inspector Lestrade down to the murder scene.

Well, the victim was very much good and dead. The blue marks around his throat proved that well. He leaned in to get a closer look at the victim, and couldn't help picking up the scent from the strange residue. It smelled like some kind of ale. Hamlet took a quick look around the room, and while he was not particularly eagle-eyed, he couldn't see any bottles of alcohol lying around, especially not one that would have been close enough to soak into someone's clothing.

"I would guess that this man died somewhere else," he finally said to the Inspector. "Is there a bar somewhere nearby?"

"This is hardly time for a drink, detective!" Lestrade protested.

Hamlet looked up towards Inspector Lestrade and shook his head. "Oh, it's not for me. From the scent of this residue on the body, this man was lying in a pool of something alcoholic long enough for it to seep into his clothing. Since there's nothing within arm's reach here that would cause that to happen, he must have been killed elsewhere and moved here later to cover up the murder's true location."

"Oh," Lestrade said sheepishly. "Well, yes. There's the Pub With No Name around the corner. Not exactly a respectable establishment."

"Well, murders don't always occur in the most respectable of locations," said Hamlet with a smirk. "In any case, we should head down to the Pub With No Name to see if there's any clues to be found there."

"Go right ahead," Lestrade said with a mocking tone. "I'm sure the gents in that fine tavern will be falling over themselves to tell you exactly what happened."

He shrugged at the comment. "You might be surprised at what things people are willing to in pursuit of either justice or money."

"I can't pass up the chance of seeing an optimist in action. Lead on!"

Detectivework.

Peter sucked at this.

He inspected the body but saw nothing that stood out. He talked to a couple people, one of whom was a prostitute who left him blushing. She didn't seem to realize that the body he said he had been inspecting was the dead one over there.

This could be starting better.

"What do you make of this then?" Lestrade called to Peter, pointing out the residue on the corpse's clothing. It was more a stain than anything else and reeked of alcohol.

"It looks like a butterfly to me," Peter said. "Do they have Rorschach tests yet? Did that joke go completely over your head?"

"You're an odd one," Lestrade said, "But no more odd than Holmes. It smells of alcohol. Gin, if I'm not mistaken." It was Lestrade. He wasn't mistaken when it came to booze.

Novice's Guide to Villains and Villainy - Week 9, Period 3

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