DW:WOTD Challenge — Ergo — U Rated — Tenth Doctor (sort of)
ergo \UR-go; AIR-\, adverb:
Therefore; consequently.
Author’s note: ‘Ergo’ is such a *logical* word. I could think of only one great fictional character that could do it justice. Apologies to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC
“Holmes! Quick! I think you should see this.”
The legendary detective strode over to Watson, bending down to examine the footprint his friend had found. He stared at the footprint for a long moment, eyes bright with thought.
Without warning he leaped up and reached out a gloved hand to pull something off the crumbling brick wall, arm darting behind Watson before he could react. Suddenly Holmes chuckled, then began to laugh.
Watson frowned, perplexed. “Holmes?”
Sherlock Holmes smiled at his friend kindly. “Ah, Watson. Excellent work, but I’m afraid you haven’t found our murderer. The print was made by footwear manufactured of a synthetic substance unknown to our society and the chip of blue paint on the wall is well,” he held his outstretched finger under his friend’s nose, “see for yourself.”
Watson’s jaw dropped as what seemed like a fleck of ordinary blue paint shimmered and disintegrated into tiny silver granules. As the transformation finished Holmes quirked an eyebrow and theatrically blew the grains from his glove making the air glitter.
Watson smiled, bemused. “Pixie dust?”
Holmes smiled. “Time Lord.” He turned away from the dank alley, indicating for Watson to follow him. “Another Doctor, doctor. An old friend who is excellent at removing elements that don’t belong. Our murderer killed by turning people inside out, yes?”
Watson frowned. “It appears so, yes. Quite impossible if you ask me.”
Holmes nodded. “Murdering by an impossible method, evidence of an impossible method of transportation that can disappear into,” he turned to Watson. “Pixie dust I believe you called it.” Watson nodded in confirmation, moustache twitching as he tried not to smile. “That evidence, along with the footprint leads to the deduction that what happened here today has been resolved by friendly forces. Ergo, the case has been solved.”
Watson grabbed the consulting detective’s arm in shock. “You mean you that you can take this mystery no further?”
Holmes looked at his friend with a tolerable smile. “Quite so, Watson. Besides,” he turned to resume the walk back to the waiting hansom. “I want to return to 221B Baker Street with haste. I received an intriguing letter this morning from a worried gentleman in Sumatra...”
Fin
ergo \UR-go; AIR-\, adverb:
Therefore; consequently.
Author’s note: ‘Ergo’ is such a *logical* word. I could think of only one great fictional character that could do it justice. Apologies to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC
“Holmes! Quick! I think you should see this.”
The legendary detective strode over to Watson, bending down to examine the footprint his friend had found. He stared at the footprint for a long moment, eyes bright with thought.
Without warning he leaped up and reached out a gloved hand to pull something off the crumbling brick wall, arm darting behind Watson before he could react. Suddenly Holmes chuckled, then began to laugh.
Watson frowned, perplexed. “Holmes?”
Sherlock Holmes smiled at his friend kindly. “Ah, Watson. Excellent work, but I’m afraid you haven’t found our murderer. The print was made by footwear manufactured of a synthetic substance unknown to our society and the chip of blue paint on the wall is well,” he held his outstretched finger under his friend’s nose, “see for yourself.”
Watson’s jaw dropped as what seemed like a fleck of ordinary blue paint shimmered and disintegrated into tiny silver granules. As the transformation finished Holmes quirked an eyebrow and theatrically blew the grains from his glove making the air glitter.
Watson smiled, bemused. “Pixie dust?”
Holmes smiled. “Time Lord.” He turned away from the dank alley, indicating for Watson to follow him. “Another Doctor, doctor. An old friend who is excellent at removing elements that don’t belong. Our murderer killed by turning people inside out, yes?”
Watson frowned. “It appears so, yes. Quite impossible if you ask me.”
Holmes nodded. “Murdering by an impossible method, evidence of an impossible method of transportation that can disappear into,” he turned to Watson. “Pixie dust I believe you called it.” Watson nodded in confirmation, moustache twitching as he tried not to smile. “That evidence, along with the footprint leads to the deduction that what happened here today has been resolved by friendly forces. Ergo, the case has been solved.”
Watson grabbed the consulting detective’s arm in shock. “You mean you that you can take this mystery no further?”
Holmes looked at his friend with a tolerable smile. “Quite so, Watson. Besides,” he turned to resume the walk back to the waiting hansom. “I want to return to 221B Baker Street with haste. I received an intriguing letter this morning from a worried gentleman in Sumatra...”
Fin