Sherlock's Recordings

"I am not the law, but I represent justice so far as my feeble powers go."

[Refictionalized 16 Dec 2012]

Sherlock's Recordings

Postby JRPictures on Sat Dec 15, 2012 6:35 am

Files of Sherlock's recordings:
https://docs.google.com/folder/d/0B-jWX ... edit?pli=1

Joe's post:
http://watchthefootage.twwf.info/?p=449

These recordings of Sherlock's experiences on the real world and his cases are interesting.

Go ahead and listen.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Blurred_9L on Sat Dec 15, 2012 11:23 am

Listening to one of them right now.

So... should we treat them just as extra information or do we notify Holmes that we found them? Actually, if we are to return these, maybe one of us could record himself reading Holmes refic so we can cross him back.

Just saying :P
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby narrativedilettante on Sat Dec 15, 2012 11:25 am

I think notifying Holmes is the appropriate course of action. I'll leave a comment on his blog.

UPDATE: Commented.

FURTHER UPDATE: Holmes is aware of the situation, and has a plan to get the recorder back.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Qara-Xuan Zenith on Sat Dec 15, 2012 7:18 pm

Still in the process of listening to these, but I... have my suspicions about who notified Joe of the recorder.

To which I shall only say: He is brilliant, of course.
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EDIT: Also, someone with the time to do so (which is... not-me) should please transcribe the recordings. For, y'know, completion's sake.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby WackyMeetsPractical on Sun Dec 16, 2012 3:34 am

I'm not sure if this has been stated somewhere already, but this little situation, which at first seemed to be just a minor subplot, or barely a plot at all, seemed to have stirred a rather intense argument between the two detectives, that had since been (supposedly) resolved.

Also, Sherlock is meeting with Joe!?! What's going on?
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby JRPictures on Sun Dec 16, 2012 4:01 am

WackyMeetsPractical wrote:I'm not sure if this has been stated somewhere already, but this little situation, which at first seemed to be just a minor subplot, or barely a plot at all, seemed to have stirred a rather intense argument between the two detectives, that had since been (supposedly) resolved.

Also, Sherlock is meeting with Joe!?! What's going on?

Joe's gonna give back the recorder. So good for him.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Greyscale on Sun Dec 16, 2012 4:19 am

I think Joe just pointed the person who found it to Sherlock. I don't think Joe's in Austin. But yeah.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Dryunya on Sun Dec 16, 2012 8:33 am

I see what he did there.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Blurred_9L on Mon Dec 17, 2012 12:50 pm

I'll probably transcribe these today. Just give me some time, ok?

EDIT: It's done, though there are a lot of missing bits here and there. Some words or entire parts might be wrong too, I'm not that good at this. If somebody wants to have a document or something, go right ahead. :P

1-12:
RAIKES: And then you just say what you wish to record or whatever and then you can play back or you can put it on your computer and save it there, so yeah.

HOLMES: I cannot fathom it... but it sits on the palm of your hand!

RAIKES: Yeah, sure. Hold on, I'll show you.



5.mp3:
JAMES: There you go, say anything.
HOLMES: Anything?
JAMES: Sure.
HOLMES: Before turning *word_here* moral and mental aspects of the matter which presents the greatest difficulties let the inquirer begin by mastering more elementary problems.
JAMES: Okay?
HOLMES: Well I... as well, you know how recordings may flounder on the fluctuations of the voice.
JAMES: I'm sure *something* how pushy you sound all the time so why not do that all over again?
HOLMES: Now, how do you turn this thing off?
JAMES: Just press the record button. It's on the side.
HOLMES: And... what does it look like?
JAMES: It's the big red one. Jeez Hugh, it's like you walked out of the 19th century or something with your pipe-smoking and your verbose language. Like you're going to say: "Elementary, my dear Watson".
HOLMES: What was that?
JAMES: You know, like Sherlock Holmes. "Elementary, my dear Watson".
HOLMES: I never said that.
JAMES: Yeah, but that's how Sherlock Holmes talks.
HOLMES: No, he doesn't!
JAMES: Never mind. Here, let me help you with that button.
HOLMES: No, no...
JAMES: Look, I have to show it's right there.
HOLMES: What's... what's...



12-12:
HOLMES: This is the commencement of recording by Mister. Hugh... Oh, dash it. I'm alone and only I shall be the one to hear this recordings or else I'll surely be in peril and then I cannot... This is the recorded voice of Sherlock Holmes the most famous detective in Britain. And while I hates to admit it for it betrays all my faculties of logic, it has become apparent that I have, somehow, been delivered against my will to a land reported to be Britain over a hundred years in the turn of the century. And it is my "solemn principle" that when you've eliminated the impossible whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Yet, though I know the consequences, I know not the means. So, just as I seek to find the method in some vicious murder I shall make it my formest intention to find the method in this strange occurrence, this will perhaps be the greatest mistery that I will solve yet, it will require all of my skill itself strained by the unfamiliarity of this time and place, but if I manage to return home to my...to... to Dr. Watson, I must deduce how I came to be here. I begin with observations of this strange place, beyond the obvious shift in technology, the computers, the carriages that work like miniature locomotives, everything seems rather... exaggerated from my time and place. The buildings are higher, the crowds are larger. This generation seems uninhibited and shameless compared to our own. Moreover, they seem rather a grownish and uninterested sort, disdainful of my intellectual tone speaking what I can very understand and the rest of the time completely fixated on that technology. Their... ignorance, I find irritating. Yet beyonds the people and my own impotence with that technology, the time is not unlivable; the air seems generally less harsh on the lungs, the streets seem cleaner and the poverty, while it is by no means extinguished, has taken on a different quality. One thing I must note, it is the strangest thing...that I, I cannot shake it. The people around the city seem to know me. Or rather they know some sort of reflection of me which they think it's simply fictional and iconic. Yet they all possess the strangest most innacurate conceptions of me. They seem to believe that I am so *word_here* as to wear a deerstalker hat and cape in the middle of the city. Well, I may not be a "gallant", but I have enough sense of fashion not to wear such clear country attire up and down *something*.
<<Somebody calls>
HOLMES: I must go, I am being called for supper. Now, how do you turn this thing off?



5.mp3:

Recording 4: (9.mp3)
HOLMES: I have written for the past week or so on the charity of James, the lad who has permitted me to stay in his home. It's the landlord who has declared that I've overstayed my welcome and I must either leave or find some method to compensate the landlord for my stay *whispers_something*. Money has always been something which we've tried to consent myself only against my will by the influence of the greedy society I'm surrounded with, and perhaps, the pressure of the landlord will break the complacency I have slid into. I have come upon this wonderful awful distraction from my woes in the form of a new technological device called television, which manages to send these moving pictures from far away to a device which reconstructs them on a screen and places them on... I'm getting ahead of myself with this new technology and I must say that for all my feelings of dissatisfaction with this generation and that fixation on that technology, I must say I understand it... yet, I disgress. I must think out how to return to the time and place where I belong, and in finding a way to pay for the housing, I will also be funding the materials I will need to solve the greater mistery for I've started a private detective service. I have been on the lookout for particular items, though I must say I am quickly confused by these people's preposterous naming systems. I went to a chemist shop thinking I would find the speciality items I needed for my chemical analysis and wasted up a whole hour rumaging through items that had nothing to do with a *something* of chemistry: food stuffs, children's playthings, women's clothes and *something*. Nonsense. I did find some highly useful non-chemical items such as a magnifying glass and a microscope of sufficient quality; but when it comes to petrol chemicals I found nothing with a solution of rubbing alcohol. They didn't offer individual compounds like *something* no offerings of *word_here* vials or *something* or *something*, not even *word_here*. I asked a shop boy if his store serviced these items and as he explained to me, the store didn't have them. He looked at me in such a condescendingly confused fashion, that I... I rather angrily asked him why they should call it a chemist store at all. As he explained to me, it became clear that what these modern people call a chemist I would surely more appropiately call an apothecary. Yes, I tried not to correct him. Instead I felt relief and I expected that I was actually looking for an apothecary and I was hoping to acquire to some standard doses of tobacco and cocaine and *something*. Yet when I asked him how much he charged for a 7% solution of cocaine, he went quite white in the face and rudely asked me to leave. As if my interest in buying cocaine from him offended him in some way. I... quickly purchased my items and left. And the prices, I though the man was trying to *word_here* by charging 20 pounds, but apparently that's something you just throw around in times like this. *sighs* Other than that, progress is going smoothly. I have found my first client whom James introduced me to; a young, attractive lady called Ms. *noise* I think he found *something*, who had suspicions about the fidelity of her boyfriend. It's, well it's not *something* but it's something, and I need something for Christ's sake! And I need... something! I think that's all for today. I need to *something* now I just, press this button...



Recording 5: (19.mp3)
HOLMES: Well, some good news. My first case, that is, with *name* turned up some quick success. As it turns out her boyfriend Clint is indeed a *word_here* more than that, he's a complete imbecile. She planned to tempt him to reveal himself by heading out to town and within the hour of her leaving he called a puny young lady and both went to a cheap motel, as it is called. I took on the uniform of a local servant to the stablishment and... good god he was such and ass! He didn't even have the discretion to close the damn door as he... ?buffed? her like some common barn animal. I was dilligent and *word_here* to my task, however, I went in while they were asleep and lifted his celular telephone, see if I could record some correspondence and show it off. I got rather more than that. The insolent *word_here* took photographs... photographs! On his telephone! Like he was trying to incriminate himself. I suppose I should be satisfied with any case at this point where I get paid, but I mean... For god's sake I have *something* powers of deduction and this is what I'm using them for? I'm better than this! But... fine. Fine, I was paid a hundred pounds for my trouble. Later that day I thought I'd pass by an address somebody had provided me by my internet blog... it's an ugly word, blog, like some disgusting *word_here* innuendo. Well, this address purported to be some sort of apothecary who would sell me well priced medicines *something* also like cocaine and morphine. But what should I find? What should I find but some hoodied east african migrant from the Niger called Leslie Ogowku or some other *something* name like that, speaking down to me like I was a peasant. And when I explained to him my request he opened up his establishments to me and revealed some sort of *something* opium *something* for the societal *something* not to mention his terrible noise, erupting from the place which he called music, worse than a *something* Cockney *something*. I thought I must have been in some terrible mistake, but as James later explained me treatments which are logically acceptable, like cocaine and morphine, are reduced to the same forms of approve as opium and gin and even worse for the state has made them illicit. What insanity is this? I cried to the *...?*, and as I angrily attempted to explain him how illogical this was to me, he said: "Be cool, man. Be cool". What does that even mean? Be cool? Just that I think I have some grasp over the usage of this term: "cool" as it's used in a context I'm unable to follow. I... I'm sure I felt the same way that Watson used to when I solved a case. How I remember that look of confusion he gave me as I led him around the *something* state to reveal him the mistery of the speckled band *something*. How... How I miss him. However, I musn't despair. I must continue forward to solve this fabulously difficult case of my time. My early success has engendered new interest among potential clients so inquiries are frequent, they are most likely domestic cases, which I'll learn to tolerate them for now.



Recording 6: (23.mp3)
HOLMES: Somebody has finally come forward with a case of some gravity. They couldn't have come at a better time either. My private detective work, my detection consulting services as I have advertised them, have driven me to the border of intolerance. A man over here suspects his wife, an old lady over there has lost her cat. The most intriguing case I had until then was a headmaster who was suspecting his student of selling drugs illegally, a case which I ultimately declined to take after a personal sense of ambiguity on the issue myself. But never mind that. I was beginning to suspect after some research of *something*, mostly by watching dramatic television serials featuring the police, that the technologically advanced and publically financed, that is, free, services of the police would lead anyone to choose these modern police over some new detective down the street for anything but the most undeserving of cases. While I have no remorse that the british *word_here* has come a long way since Lestrade, I would say it put me in considerable distress. So much though, I was planning to do what was once unthinkable to me. I went to the residence of that same private apothecary I've encountered before, *something* obtain medicine, that I've become this rough patch, in spite of his rudeness to me the first time. But when I came to him, requesting some cocaine and morphine as before, he had the gull to refuse me: "No, no, will not let you in" he said. "*something* he's like a detective or something, man". He called me a rat and told me to leave, then I was so savagely insulted that I yelled back and stormed off. I was so angry I could hardly remember what I told him. I would have given up *something* if I hadn't at that moment received a message on my telephone, you see, it was a man with a Dutch accent I believe and he requested to meet me under the *something* of the strictest discretion. My suspicions were aroused as was my intrigue. When we met he provided the details of the most extraordinary case of a Belgian man under the name of Reynald Saint Jerome who he suspected was responsible for a recent *something* murder of another Belgian called *name* a *something* separatist, intellectual who was giving lectures about Dutch speaking Belgian autonomy to local forum settings. He presented the most intriguing details about how the man Reynald Saint Jerome, only had evidence of his existence for the past 2 weeks or so, which means it is luckily an alias. What is clear, is this Reynald is a feasley proud Belgian nationalist and a French speaker that is a *something*, who was seeing getting into a raging argument threatening even murder just hours before the estimated time of death. He could not bring this information to the police because he was apparantly afraid of the legality of the means by which he gave me this information and also because he says he fears the *something* and nefarious nature he has detected in Reynald. He had a motive, but considering his pressumed location at the time, the question is giving him the placement for the opportunity. There are very few clues I can obtain, the details of the murder of *name* speak of a comprehensive deliberate cover up. His body was burned to a crisp in a furnace and it is impossible to assertain the cause of death *door opens*. Oh is that you James? I'm glad, I have some fabulous new to tell you.
JAMES: Hey, what the bloody hell are you doing?
HOLMES: Whatever do you mean James?
JAMES: Look Hugh if you haven't heard then... I have to tell you.
HOLMES: What?
JAMES: You don't have much time. You have to leave immediately.
HOLMES: Look, I don't...
JAMES: Now!
HOLMES: Why?
JAMES: Pack up! Take what you need. You've been accused of murder.
HOLMES: Murder?! Of whom?
JAMES: Why, don't you know? Your good friend, Les Okogwu.
HOLMES: He was murdered?
JAMES: Head bashing. Police found his body in a dumpster.
HOLMES: Serves him right I suppose.
JAMES: Don't say shit like that man. I'm trying to help you. Someone said that you killed him in an aggravated disagreement over drugs with racial motivations.
HOLMES: *something* Look, regardless of what his skin color is, the man was a swine. And *something* can prove that I killed him, so I shan't be afraid of these pathetic threats.
JAMES: He was seen threatening him and as the record he told him to go back to that bush where he came from!
HOLMES: Well that was purely observational and I am a man of observation. I observe that he clearly seemed to come from that *something* and that he was also being quite rude.
JAMES: I don't care what your disagreement with him is. You have to lay low.
HOLMES: But why? What evidence do they have on me?
JAMES: The head of your cane. He said he expect that was the *something* weapon and claimed the wound indentation would match the head, and if that is the case then it's simply because your cane is an antique *something* in for life.
HOLMES: I... uh... I didn't. Somebody is... setting me up.
JAMES: Look, I know you didn't do it. But the police think it's possible. And if they do, they can arrest you and you won't be able to help yourself.
HOLMES: I am a detective James. I have a right to defend myself, review the case, figure out how the murder was committed so I can prove it wasn't me.
JAMES: It not that simple here. And look, I know you *something* among the suspicions I have. I can't really explain, but I know you aren't a murderer. And becuase I know you aren't a murderer... I know if you get arrested you'll go behind bars. I'm begging you, pack up now.
HOLMES: You're right. Damn it.
JAMES: Here's your magnifying glass. You'll have to get by without you microscope I'm afraid.
HOLMES: That's alright. James, I can't thank you enough. You've taken me in under the strangest of circumstances, you've been so good to me. I wish I could repay you.
JAMES: It's nothing. Hey if it wasn't for you I would be taking *name* for dinner this friday, would I? Besides, you've gave me a good story to tell at parties. Oh, don't forget your recorder. Is it on?
HOLMES: Did... did I leave it on?



Recording 7: (23.mp3)
HOLMES: I am keeping notes for the Administrator about the important details of the case. I'm about to meet with Rupert Bingly. And by meet I mean I'm going to approach him without informing him before hand and asking the questions that need answering.
BINGLY: Usted ha metido el numero. Yo no era el hombre que dejo la casa en Costa Rica. Deja de llamarme.
HOLMES: Rupert Bingly.
BINGLY: Oh not you! I don't want to speak with you.
HOLMES: Speak Spanish, Mr. Bingly.
BINGLY: I'm learning. I'm don't... What am I telling you that for? Go away, I don't want to talk to you.
HOLMES: Rupert before you walk away... what does the count 3-7-0-4 mean to you?
BINGLY: As a lawyer I should refuse to comment.
HOLMES: But you don't.
BINGLY: No. No, it was a monetary accout with the Bingly foundation. It was where most of the currency was held pending further instructions on where it's going to be sent. Only Richard and I could access using our passwords.
HOLMES: Well, that was exceedingly strange. Well I was wondering if you could help me explain... If you perhaps had access to that account, why did you eliminate the *something* in Richard's will that required all Bingly assess to go through this account before *something* into the foundation.
BINGLY: Gimme that! Where did you get a copy of that?
HOLMES: Your sister, she graciously provided me with a copy.
BINGLY: She never was a competent lawyer. Gimme...!
HOLMES: Ah, ah, ah. Explain it to me, and I'll give it back to you.
BINGLY: I have no legal requirement to do so.
HOLMES: And I have no legal requierement to give you this copy of the will. So let me explain it to you. Rupert Bingly, I have proof that you comitted an act of fraud in *something* the *something* of your father's will. I could have *something* to the police and have them arrest you for this charge. But I did not want to because there's a greater mistery here involved with why, why you hold it, the *something*. If you were a simple crook you would have preferred to keep it as it was, in this account you could access whenever you wanted. But instead, you gave all the money directly to your sister and the foundation. I want to know, why?
BINGLY: Isn't it enough of a explanation that I was being charitable?
HOLMES: No. Because it does not explain why your father wanted to change his will to send all his money to this account, why he jumped off that bridged and why you wanted to directly disobey his wishes *something* through the account, you could be charitable in that way.
BINGLY: Well then, what do you think?
HOLMES: What do I think, indeed? I suspect Richard was planning something. You knew that he was scheming and you wanted to thwart that scheme by disobeying his wishes. But what could he be scheming, ways after his death with his will? Why would he care how his money was accessible after he died? Then it occurred to me. He wanted to access that money after his death, that is, after his official death. That is to say, he contrived his death to look like suicide. When Richard Bingly jumped off that bridge, he merely wanted it to look like suicide, he expected that he would survive. If he could be officially declared dead his money would go to an account whose finances would've been sent to some overseas nation, one an international trip and a few *something* later to a country where the foundation had a *something* and his living expenses would go virtually unnoticed amidst everything else that the account was funding. But he couldn't do this alone, he needed an accomplice to make sure everything went smoothly. And as we know, it must have not gone smoothly for him. I imagine that is because he trusted you Rupert. He thought, as his son and partner in the crimes of his embezzlement firm, you would be willing to help him start favor again. But you, unlike him, had a conscience that told you you were doing something wrong. After all the lives that man had ruined, you were unwilling to let him skip off to some island in the Caribbean. So you hold the will, *something* towards his account, it all went to your sister instead. She would have used it to *something* the foundation he was suppossed to be doing. You weren't in it for the money. You were looking for redemption.
BINGLY: It's a charming theory.
HOLMES: Yeah, but there's a less charming side to it. Because if it was easy to survive jumping off a bridge, people wouldn't commit suicide in that manner. He needed help getting back to shore and I'm assuming that help was supposed to be you, as you went accounted for that night. So I can only speculate, but I imagine that you intercepted your father in your expensive boat, however, you realized that you wouldn't be able to sent him to the Caribbean after his apparent suicide was announced, once the will was altered, there was only one way to hide your *something* from your father. So when you had the chance in deeper waters, you pushed the man back into the waves. Nobody would know otherwise, you thought, he was faking his own suicide. But that night, Rupert Bingly, you killed your father. And you did not count on the detective services of Sherlock Holmes! What do you have to say about that?
BINGLY: Nothing, it's all true.
HOLMES: It's... you... you're just going to stare at me like that. No *something*, no denial, no *something*.
BINGLY: There's nothing else I can do. Even if I denied it, you'd still go to the police with the evidence that I altered the will. I would still go to jail and the money afforded to Jane would have to be confiscated because she received it as a result of a fraudulent act.
HOLMES: Ah, and you're telling me this...
BINGLY: I want to make a deal with you. If you call the police I will confess to killing dad and turn myself in. I will explain to them all the evidence that proves that I killed him, except...
HOLMES: Except what?
BINGLY: Except that neither you nor I say a word about the testament. Nothing about alteration or fraud. The act will hardly *something* to my presence *something* murder. I just want... no I need to make sure that before that I run in jail I leave one good thing behind. My sister was the angel of our family and with the resources I provided for her she would do a lot of good. So please, Sherlock Holmes or whoever the hell you are, don't deprive me of the one opportunity to redeem myself in any way. I've not lived a good life. I'm a cheat, swindler, fraud... and a murderer. But I want someone else to live a good life for me.
HOLMES: I'm sorry, Rupert. Collaborating with criminals is not in my proper nature.
BINGLY: I'll fight you in court then. I'll deny everything. If there's one thing I am, is a good lawyer. You'll be tied up in court for months.
HOLMES: Months?
BINGLY: Yes, months.
HOLMES: That will not do.
BINGLY: Changed your mind?
HOLMES: Fine! I'll tell the police. I have to go to a ball tonight anyway.

Apologies for the missing bits :P

Thanks to Rota for the help correcting and finding the missing bits. :)
Last edited by Blurred_9L on Mon Dec 17, 2012 9:31 pm, edited 27 times in total.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby narrativedilettante on Mon Dec 17, 2012 1:23 pm

Blurred_9L wrote:I'll probably transcribe these today. Just give me some time, ok?


Many thanks, Blur. Take your time.
Never put off until tomorrow what you can put off until the day after.
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Blurred_9L on Mon Dec 17, 2012 2:21 pm

I might need some help correcting some parts. Also, there are parts that I just cannot understand. But, yes, I'll do it as fast as I can.
Why should we do the right thing?
-Well... because it's the right thing to do, there's no other good reason.

Am I a bad guy trying to be good, or a good guy trying to convince himself that he's not the bad guy?
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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Endless Sea on Mon Dec 17, 2012 3:28 pm

Might want to split some of the larger blocks of text up. They're a bit trying on the eyes as they are.
So, apparently I'm the sanest madman this side of the international date line. Seems legit.

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Re: Sherlock's Recordings

Postby Blurred_9L on Mon Dec 17, 2012 3:44 pm

Endless Sea wrote:Might want to split some of the larger blocks of text up. They're a bit trying on the eyes as they are.


I'll do that later Endless.
Why should we do the right thing?
-Well... because it's the right thing to do, there's no other good reason.

Am I a bad guy trying to be good, or a good guy trying to convince himself that he's not the bad guy?
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