Reverse Sherlocking

After watching Sherlock Holmes for a while, I find that I start doing his "intense scrutiny" of my surroundings trying to come up with similar results. I wander around my kitchen analyzing myself and thinking, "what does this room say about me?"

Of course it's all nonsense. It only works if you already know the person's story, and then find little ways to reveal it. A.C. Doyle used this method to give us a short amount of exposition without being boring, a tremendous feat, and "wow" us with Sherlock's insane genius.

Still it's a fun literary exercise, that I now put to you. Once in a while, walk around your house thinking, "what does this room say about me?" Here's what I came up with after a few minutes. Of course you have to hear it in Cumberbatch's or Brett's voice.

* Cereal boxes of no consistent size or brand, which means you shop the sales, you're either saving money or hard up, judging by the state of your cookware, hard-used and nearly broken, I'd say it was the latter.

*Coffee, same thing, different sizes, different brands, but I notice you have 3 cannisters in your pantry, which makes you an addict. It's a new coffee maker, but a very cheap one, which means you go through a lot of them.You also... spill a lot as you walk, not a morning person, are you?

*There's dust on the lip of the piano cover, but not on the top, which means you leave it up all the times... but there's very little dust build up on the middle keys which means you play regularly. The music books lying around have been there for a few days, so one of you reads music, and someone else doesn't. Judging by the state of the books the difficulty level, and the length of your fingernails, I'd say that you play regularly but you can't read music. Your husband reads, but he doesn't play often.

*Your wedding portrait is resting on the piano under a sheaf of leaves... trouble in paradise? Oh, No! See here, you've got the mollys and the nails and— my word— even a level and a T-sqaure out—all covered in dust too. You obviously mean to hang the painting, but are afraid that you won't like how it's hung and mean to do a proper job of it it you ever get around to it, and perhaps when the children are in school

*Yes you have two children, close in age, a boy and a girl. See you have two of all the gender-neutral toys, hula hoops, art pads, beach buckets (how was your trip to the Outer Banks, by the way?). With smaller children, you have to have two pf everything to avoid rows. Yet you only have one doll and one water pistol, which means different genders. Also the gender neutral items tend to have one primary colour and one pastel—does your daughter actually like pink, or do you just get pink not to confuse it with the boy's.

*You have a million little house-hold tasks which you are waiting on until the house it free during the day, but let's face it, if you were any sort of a go-getter you would have done the dishes this morning. Am I right?

2023

by Monica Marier

The bitch is back! I'm jumping back into Friday Flash after a LOOOOOONG hiatus. Hopefully this is the start of more beautiful magic in my life. Wish me luck.



The city outside was hidden in a cloud of whirling green particles. The advisories today were all code-red warnings coupled with 2% visibility. “Civillians strongly advised to stay indoors,” Jamie repeated under his breath, in time with the broadcast. He didn’t care. He had to see Anh today. It had been five days of code reds and the school holidays were almost over! Desperate, he and Anh plotted to meet at the mall today. Both of them were going to get in a lot of trouble for it, but they both decided that it would be worth it to see each other. His mom would simply block his G3 access for a week, and with school starting in two days it wouldn’t matter much.
It was dangerous; Jamie was deemed a “high-risk citizen” by the board of health and one slip-up could be fatal. There were stories on the news everyday about people like Jamie who had “just gone out for a few hours,” and never made it back. He would have to take every precaution if he wanted to make it back home alive… so his mom could kill him.

Jamie tiptoed to the mudroom and got ready to go outside. His mom would be in her room until she finished her first pot of coffee, so he had a good twenty minutes. He would need every second. First came the brown canvas coveralls; his fingers trembled as he did up the snaps. He double-checked, then triple-checked to make sure all the snaps were done tightly and there were no gaps. He tied his boots and secured the cloth wraps around the cuffs of his pant-legs. Jamie set his headphones to the playlist Anh had made him and pulled up his interior hood. He checked to make sure his goggles were clean of smudges and smears before putting them on; he wouldn’t have opportunity to clean them until he was safely at the mall. Goggles in place, he checked the filters on his respirator and hooked it on. He also grabbed one of the outdoor-kits full of water, emergency protein, glow tubes and adrenaline injections. Then came the large hooded serape which he draped over all. It was bright orange to combat the low visibility of the green storm and the second hood and face-wrap protected the gear from prematurely wearing out. Last of all, he put on the clumsy gloves and wrapped the ends around his sleeve cuffs.

“Jamie,” came a voice from his mom’s bedroom. “Jamie did you check the dryer for your clothes?”
“Uh, they were still wet so I restarted it,” lied Jamie, hoping his voice wasn’t too obscured by the respirator.
“Okay,” said his mom.

She didn’t call for him again, so Jamie seized the opportunity to slip into the detox chamber and run outside. He forgot to brace himself for the wind and nearly toppled over as a blast of air and debris slammed into him. He shook his head at his own idiocy and began his slow march to the mall. The visibility was too low to drive. As he plodded down the sidewalk, he noted that there was no one else on the streets today. There was only whirlwinds of green fuzz that danced in circles, or shambled in clumps down the high street. Jamie concentrated on his playlist as his heavy boots plodded through the yellowish drifts.

He was almost at the mall when he saw the car. Someone had been stupid enough to try to drive today. A Chevy Quasar had careened off the road and smashed into a lamp post. It was only superficially damaged, but peering through the broken windows, Jamie knew that the driver was dead. The moron hadn’t been wearing a respirator; it was lying on the passenger seat next to him. He’d probably thought he was safe enough in the car with the filter running full blast. Jamie shook his head and flinched at the sight of the swollen black face lying lifeless in his seat. Jamie’s dad had always made them wear respirators in the car. He knew that it only took a few seconds for the car’s filter to hiccup and leave everyone exposed to the lung-choking particles. Jamie was growing hardened to the sight of dead people covered in a dusting of green, but it was never easy and it still made him feel horrible.

Jamie’s mom assured him that this was a good thing. It was a sign that he was growing into a good person.

Mom had often told him that it hadn’t always been like this. She remembered when the green storms started to make life unlivable for people. She said that when she was a girl, it had been different.

Jamie had already walked into the detox chamber before he realized he was at the mall. The blast of purified air shook him as it removed the green motes stuck to his clothes. Then the blast of icy air froze and killed the particles. Lastly the, mild chemical shower rinsed him off. He stepped out of the chamber and unhooked his respirator and goggles.

“Jamie!” cried Anh.

She ran to him dressed in similar orange and khaki, she too had livid red marks on her face from where her goggles and respirator had dug into her face. Jamie smiled and took her hand. They hugged and clumsily kissed each other.

“Anyone here today?” asked Jamie.
“Yeah, there’s a few shops open— ooh! And both the Starbucks and the movies are open today,” said Anh.
“Cool!” said Jamie. This was better luck than he expected. “I was afraid that everything would be closed again.”
“I know. But shop-owners gotta eat I guess.”
“Last day of holidays,” sighed Jamie. “Why did spring have to come so early this year?”
“But the news said pollen season will be over earlier too. We should be back in the school building by late April this year!”
“That’s true,” said Jamie with a grin. “Let’s just enjoy this afternoon before we go back home and get our asses flayed by our folks.”
“Yeah,” said Anh resting her head on Jamie’s shoulder. “I hate pollen season.”
“Me too,” sighed Jaime.

Outside, the green storm raged.

The Stain

This story was inspired by a brown drippy stain I saw on a museum wall.

The coffee sprayed out of Laura’s mouth and onto the rust-colored wall. It nearly hit a Rodin, and Laura gasped at the damage she’d done to the Museum walls.

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d take it like that,” said Ian.
“What did you say?” asked Laura, wiping her mouth. “You’re a what??”
“I’m an Alien. I’m from the planet Klaxon.”
“But I’ve know you since college! You’re from Herndon! You live with your crazy mom and sell hunting knives at the mall.”
“It was a cover. Um. I think we better move, the curator’s coming.”
Laura and Ian ducked into the impressionists wing.
“So…why are you telling me this?” whispered Laura. Her face turned grey as tears sprang her eyes. “Oh my GOD. You’re breaking up with me.”

Ian stared. “Wait you actually believed me? No one’s ever believed me before!”
“You’re telling me this because you want to scare me off?” moaned Laura. The tears were coming hard and fast now as she tried to stem the tide with her sweater sleeve.
“Uh... no!” said Ian looking in fond amazement at his girlfriend’s blind acceptance. “No! I’ve really loved the years we’ve had together,”
“But now you have to go back to your planet and you’re ditching me!” wailed Laura looking as waterlogged as the Monet painting of water lily’s behind her.
“No, you nut! I’m not ditching you!” said Ian.
“Then why, Ian?”
Ian stammered and a fine sweat broke out on his forehead as he fumbled in his pocket.
“Why?” Laura demanded again.
“I just…I thought you should know the truth… before we got married.”
Ian finally managed to extract a small ring case from his pants pocket and presented it to her.
Laura gazed in wonder at the glittering gem that held more colors than a peacock’s tail. It was like no gem she’d seen on earth. It was as if someone had taken a lava lamp and injected it into a crystal.
“Oh, Ian. It’s so pretty.”
“It belonged to my mother… my real mother. The woman in my house is my bodyguard— she takes it kind of seriously.”
Laura said nothing. She was still staring at the ring.
“So will you marry me, Laura?” Ian asked, getting more anxious as he waited for her response.
“YES!” she shouted jumping on him and kissing his astonished face. He held her and his lips found hers shortly.
Laura pulled away. “Wait. Do I have to go to Klaxon?” she asked.
“Well, the planet is going to want to meet its new princess.”
“Whee!”she screamed and hugged him tighter.

***
Gupta the curator had to steady himself as he saw the livid dark stain on the wall. This would get him fired for sure. Thinking fast he grabbed a blank plaque and in his neat handwriting wrote: “Installation Piece, Anon.” He hung it next to the coffee stain and walked away.