Anderson's Dinosaur Adventure (1/?)
"Anderson, what the hell is that?"
Lestrade stood at the top of the stairs, loudly tapping his foot to nicely emphasize his impatience with the situation. He continued tapping, that is, until he was knocked over by the dynamic John and Sherlock duo, who had consequently decided to burst in upon the scene at the very same moment.
"Oh, Lestrade, I did not see you there," Sherlock mumbled, stepping lightly over the inspector's prostrate body on the ground. "You really should wear blinking lights or something. That way people cannot possibly ignore your existence…as much."
Lestrade would have liked to tell Sherlock where he could stick his blinking lights.
"We meet again, Anderson," Sherlock continued, sidling up to the sergeant and inspecting his work. "What do we have here?"
"It's a time machine, and I don't want you touching it," Anderson retorted in his whiny, nasal voice and waved a wrench in the direction of the detective. "Now, shoo!"
John's jaw dropped. "A time machine? You mean…"
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Yes. A machine of time."
John's eyes grew huge as he whispered, "Fascinating."
Sherlock frowned. "No, it's not."
"How's that?"
"Because I didn't make it."
John folded his arms. "Oh, then it's complete rubbish because the great Sherlock Holmes did not create it."
"Exactly."
"You're unbelievable."
"I know. I can't help it."
"Would you both please just shut up?" Anderson growled as he continued to tinker away beneath the machine. "You're throwing off my concentration."
Lestrade had by now peeled himself off the ground and moseyed over to join the group. "Anderson, what the hell is this?"
Anderson reached for a screwdriver. "You already asked that."
"No, he said 'What the hell is that', the different operative wording being 'this' at this particular repetition of the inquiry," Sherlock chirped.
"Shut up, Sherlock," Lestrade chirped back.
The young detective ignored him. "The question is, Anderson: why are you building a time machine on the roof of Scotland Yard?"
Anderson rolled himself out from beneath the contraption and glared up at the three observers. "Why? So I can finally get away from you people."
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "So you've decided to zap yourself back through time and never return."
"Yes."
"Be my guest then."
As if in response, the time machine suddenly flashed forth a blinding green light, followed by the cliché "vwoorp vwoorp" sound characteristic of at least half a dozen science fiction movies. The gentlemen present did not complain about this, however, on account of finding themselves suddenly dematerialized into miniscule, glowing particles.
They returned to their normal states a minute later, but, consequently, millions of years earlier.
"Oh, God!" John shouted suddenly, skittering backward. "I'm in a tree! I'm in a damn tree!"
"Yes, we know," Anderson growled irritably from the bough above.
"Get off my branch, Lestraaaaaade," Sherlock whined, shoving the detective inspector toward the tree's trunk. "You're going to break it asunder and kill me."
"Oy! Let go, Sherlock, and stop being such an infant!"
"Get offfff. I can hear it cracking."
"You mean like this?" Lestrade snapped back, bouncing up and down on his seat.
"Stop it, I say! Stop it!"
A distant roar silenced the petty feud.
"What was that?!" John yelped from above, his face a perfect picture of his usual consternation.
"I don't…no, it can't be," Anderson breathed, his eyes lighting up. "Could it really…"
A rumble from the nearby bushes revealed a long reptilian tail.
"A dinosaur!" Anderson squeaked, clapping his hands in childlike joy. "A real dinosaur!"
"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL, ANDERSON," Sherlock yelled from below. "WHAT THE EVERLOVING F-"
"It's going to eat me, isn't it?" John panicked, wrapping his arms and legs even tighter around the tree trunk.
"Really, John," Sherlock consoled. "It would probably just choke on your jumper."
"What is that thing, anyway?" John called down, still willing himself to become one with the branches.
Anderson was already shimmying down the tree in frantic excitement. "A. fragilis, you idiots. An actual A. fragilis."
"In English, Anderson!"
"It's an Allosaurus, bitches!"
Lestrade stared after the running sergeant and shrugged. "Well, that's just lovely. Looks like he's off to get himself eaten now."
"Oh yes!" exclaimed Sherlock, "Front row seats!"
Just then, an enormous crash revealed said Allosaurus, a bit smaller but just as fierce as its cousin, the Tyrannosaurus Rex. None of this occurred to Anderson, however, who continued skipping toward the giant reptile, a sharp wind blowing through his hair, the sun beaming on his upturned face…
The dinosaur's mouth inches from snapping hold of his head.
"It's like…a dream come true," Sherlock whispered, his pale eyes sparkling. "I would have never thought I'd get to watch Anderson being swallowed by an large extinct reptilian."
"RUN, ANDERSON, RUNNNN!" John bellowed from above, managing to free one arm to wave it frantically at the distant figure.
Sherlock threw him a reproachful look. "Knock that off, John! And if you so much as try to do your little doctor thing and piece Anderson back together, so help me, I will-"
"Will what?" came a familiar croaking voice.
Sherlock blinked once before suddenly bursting out, "Anderson! Why the hell are you riding on the back of that damn dinosaur? Why didn't it, for all purposes of rightful nature, eat you?"
Anderson stroked the Allosaurus's spiked neck and looked back up with a smug smile. "Because I'm the Dinosaur Whisperer."
Detective Inspector Lestrade choked on his sudden burst of laughter. "That's bullshit, Anderson."
Anderson's self-satisfied smile only widened as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers once.
The theropod immediately reared up and gnashed its teeth inches from Lestrade's nose, a growl rumbling deep within its throat. Lestrade fell backward in utter shock, but was caught by the coattails by Sherlock.
"Up! Up! Pull me up, dammit," the detective inspector snapped, dangling about like a cat toy tied to a bit of string.
Sherlock himself was beginning to slip. "John! Get your frozen butt down here and help!"
John continued staring at the large carnivorous beast below him. "Um. God, no."
Sherlock turned a fiery glare upon the sergeant. "You'll pay for this, Anderson!"
Anderson laughed a sort of frog-like laugh. "I think not, little detective. But thank you for your input."
Sherlock gritted his teeth. Oh, Anderson would get it now. No one quoted Sherlock Holmes and threw his quotations back in his face and got away with it.
CHAPTER TWO
Lestrade stood at the top of the stairs, loudly tapping his foot to nicely emphasize his impatience with the situation. He continued tapping, that is, until he was knocked over by the dynamic John and Sherlock duo, who had consequently decided to burst in upon the scene at the very same moment.
"Oh, Lestrade, I did not see you there," Sherlock mumbled, stepping lightly over the inspector's prostrate body on the ground. "You really should wear blinking lights or something. That way people cannot possibly ignore your existence…as much."
Lestrade would have liked to tell Sherlock where he could stick his blinking lights.
"We meet again, Anderson," Sherlock continued, sidling up to the sergeant and inspecting his work. "What do we have here?"
"It's a time machine, and I don't want you touching it," Anderson retorted in his whiny, nasal voice and waved a wrench in the direction of the detective. "Now, shoo!"
John's jaw dropped. "A time machine? You mean…"
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Yes. A machine of time."
John's eyes grew huge as he whispered, "Fascinating."
Sherlock frowned. "No, it's not."
"How's that?"
"Because I didn't make it."
John folded his arms. "Oh, then it's complete rubbish because the great Sherlock Holmes did not create it."
"Exactly."
"You're unbelievable."
"I know. I can't help it."
"Would you both please just shut up?" Anderson growled as he continued to tinker away beneath the machine. "You're throwing off my concentration."
Lestrade had by now peeled himself off the ground and moseyed over to join the group. "Anderson, what the hell is this?"
Anderson reached for a screwdriver. "You already asked that."
"No, he said 'What the hell is that', the different operative wording being 'this' at this particular repetition of the inquiry," Sherlock chirped.
"Shut up, Sherlock," Lestrade chirped back.
The young detective ignored him. "The question is, Anderson: why are you building a time machine on the roof of Scotland Yard?"
Anderson rolled himself out from beneath the contraption and glared up at the three observers. "Why? So I can finally get away from you people."
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "So you've decided to zap yourself back through time and never return."
"Yes."
"Be my guest then."
As if in response, the time machine suddenly flashed forth a blinding green light, followed by the cliché "vwoorp vwoorp" sound characteristic of at least half a dozen science fiction movies. The gentlemen present did not complain about this, however, on account of finding themselves suddenly dematerialized into miniscule, glowing particles.
They returned to their normal states a minute later, but, consequently, millions of years earlier.
"Oh, God!" John shouted suddenly, skittering backward. "I'm in a tree! I'm in a damn tree!"
"Yes, we know," Anderson growled irritably from the bough above.
"Get off my branch, Lestraaaaaade," Sherlock whined, shoving the detective inspector toward the tree's trunk. "You're going to break it asunder and kill me."
"Oy! Let go, Sherlock, and stop being such an infant!"
"Get offfff. I can hear it cracking."
"You mean like this?" Lestrade snapped back, bouncing up and down on his seat.
"Stop it, I say! Stop it!"
A distant roar silenced the petty feud.
"What was that?!" John yelped from above, his face a perfect picture of his usual consternation.
"I don't…no, it can't be," Anderson breathed, his eyes lighting up. "Could it really…"
A rumble from the nearby bushes revealed a long reptilian tail.
"A dinosaur!" Anderson squeaked, clapping his hands in childlike joy. "A real dinosaur!"
"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL, ANDERSON," Sherlock yelled from below. "WHAT THE EVERLOVING F-"
"It's going to eat me, isn't it?" John panicked, wrapping his arms and legs even tighter around the tree trunk.
"Really, John," Sherlock consoled. "It would probably just choke on your jumper."
"What is that thing, anyway?" John called down, still willing himself to become one with the branches.
Anderson was already shimmying down the tree in frantic excitement. "A. fragilis, you idiots. An actual A. fragilis."
"In English, Anderson!"
"It's an Allosaurus, bitches!"
Lestrade stared after the running sergeant and shrugged. "Well, that's just lovely. Looks like he's off to get himself eaten now."
"Oh yes!" exclaimed Sherlock, "Front row seats!"
Just then, an enormous crash revealed said Allosaurus, a bit smaller but just as fierce as its cousin, the Tyrannosaurus Rex. None of this occurred to Anderson, however, who continued skipping toward the giant reptile, a sharp wind blowing through his hair, the sun beaming on his upturned face…
The dinosaur's mouth inches from snapping hold of his head.
"It's like…a dream come true," Sherlock whispered, his pale eyes sparkling. "I would have never thought I'd get to watch Anderson being swallowed by an large extinct reptilian."
"RUN, ANDERSON, RUNNNN!" John bellowed from above, managing to free one arm to wave it frantically at the distant figure.
Sherlock threw him a reproachful look. "Knock that off, John! And if you so much as try to do your little doctor thing and piece Anderson back together, so help me, I will-"
"Will what?" came a familiar croaking voice.
Sherlock blinked once before suddenly bursting out, "Anderson! Why the hell are you riding on the back of that damn dinosaur? Why didn't it, for all purposes of rightful nature, eat you?"
Anderson stroked the Allosaurus's spiked neck and looked back up with a smug smile. "Because I'm the Dinosaur Whisperer."
Detective Inspector Lestrade choked on his sudden burst of laughter. "That's bullshit, Anderson."
Anderson's self-satisfied smile only widened as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers once.
The theropod immediately reared up and gnashed its teeth inches from Lestrade's nose, a growl rumbling deep within its throat. Lestrade fell backward in utter shock, but was caught by the coattails by Sherlock.
"Up! Up! Pull me up, dammit," the detective inspector snapped, dangling about like a cat toy tied to a bit of string.
Sherlock himself was beginning to slip. "John! Get your frozen butt down here and help!"
John continued staring at the large carnivorous beast below him. "Um. God, no."
Sherlock turned a fiery glare upon the sergeant. "You'll pay for this, Anderson!"
Anderson laughed a sort of frog-like laugh. "I think not, little detective. But thank you for your input."
Sherlock gritted his teeth. Oh, Anderson would get it now. No one quoted Sherlock Holmes and threw his quotations back in his face and got away with it.
CHAPTER TWO