Name and forum handle: Brian McVey (a.k.a. Terlin)
Status: MWM Employee
Position: Contract Writer

So, I decided to use Sherlock Holmes as my test subject.

I am unable to provide an example in Tim Burton-Land as the only movies I've seen from him are Batman. Developing a format just for Gotham City felt too much like the fourth iteration. However, the rest are:

Sherlock Holmes in Disney Land:

The star-strewn pointed hat didn't really suit the elderly gentlemen, noted Sherlock discretely, while listening to the man’s tale. The oratory expounded from behind the gentleman's long gray beard, whilst his hands moved in a manner somewhat reversed from a maestro.

“So, you see what a terrible mess I am in,” he stated, expectantly. “I surely hope you can help me, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock pulled a magnifying glass from his jacket and, kneeling, bent close to the ground. There were alternating impressions in the mud as of feet striding forward at great speed, but the marks were strangely shaped: certainly not human.

“And you said that they were stored over there, Mr. Ard?” he asked, pointing to his right.

“Yes,” Wiz replied, wringing his hands together. “I'll never be able to keep things in order without them.”

Sherlock Holmes looked around at the strange setting, with the grass and trees alike seemingly painted in place. He had risen from his favorite chair at 221B Baker Street, and gone in search of an insistent knocking. He had found the source behind the medicine cabinet in the bath, and, upon opening it, was drawn against his will to this strange, sketch-board land. Hardly dressed for an outing in his smoking jacket and slippers, Sherlock had been studying an odd stamp in his rooms at the time with a circular glass, and was now glad to have it with him.

He stepped by a circuitous route through the water-logged ground to the, not-quite three-dimensional, storage shed. He noted several new impressions here very different from the rest, in a shape approximating a man's, but more rounded and impossibly large. They first faced the shed door, placed as if to prevent the door from opening, but then they shuffled about, finally turning to the right and scurrying away.

“Sir, considering the unusual nature of this place and these markings here, it's obvious to me that a large caricature rodent is responsible,” said Sherlock, pointing at the new footprints. “Find it, and you will certainly find the brooms.”

The wizard stared at the moist ground at Sherlock’s feet.

“I’ll teach that mouse,” exclaimed Wiz, as he stormed off in search of his apprentice.

.

Sherlock Holmes in a Police drama Land:

Sherlock waited patiently along the curb with his dog, while the detectives bustled about in a confusing array of activity. New York was so very different from his native London, he mused while drawing another lungful from the pipe. Finally, a young man in a suit and overcoat approached, with his badge declaring ‘P. Folke’.

“I understand you witnessed the abduction, Mister?” he stated, looking into Sherlock’s eyes.

“Holmes, Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock replied, removing the pipe from his mouth. “And, no, not precisely, Mr. Folke. I happened upon the scene shortly after.”

“But, I was told you knew what happened,” Mr. Folke fumed, pointing an accusing finger at Sherlock.

“Well, I believe so, but why don't you tell me your opinion of the facts, detective?” Sherlock said, motioning toward Mr. Folke with his pipe.

The detective's eyes bulged at that. “Well,” he started, “it looks as if two men dragged off a young model, but so far, the evidence doesn't give us much to go on.”

“I see,” remarked Sherlock. “Well then, let me be of assistance.” He scooped up the small terrier, and stepped briskly across the police line, with several officials stammering objections.

“If by ‘model’ you mean a young woman, I can agree, but I can also say she is blue eyed, and most likely, brunette,” Sherlock informed Mr. Folke, while plucking up a dark blue eye liner from the ground. “However, I would say the woman is not a model per se, but most likely works in a lab or medical office, as the scrapes from the struggle show no evidence of sharp heels.”

“Further,” Sherlock continued, under the dumb-founded look of the detective, “the other set of rubbings belong to the only perpetrator: that being a large man with a rather severe crook in his back, judging from the way he drags his left foot.”

“They went down this small alleyway, and may be at this moment on the upper floor of that building over there," he said, pointing to a third-floor window nearby, where a curtain could be seen suddenly drawing closed.

"Well, I'll be," commented Mr. Folke in shock, while motioning for several officers to follow him toward the building.

Setting the small dog down, and turning from the scene, Sherlock said, "Come along, Watson."

.

Sherlock Holmes in Super-Hero Land:

Sherlock pointed the scanner at the small door, and the blue dot pulsed furiously on the phosphorescent screen. After a short struggle, he removed from the alcove a small golden figurine, shaped in the head of a bird, but could find no reason why the object should radiate such a toxic signature.

This errand seemed quite simple, and left him amazed at Scotland Yard. With vast resources orbiting several moons, including nearby Io, they still seemed less than effective and occasionally inept: as in this case. Sherlock Holmes had once again been summoned from his study at 221B Baker Street to solve yet another mystery confounding the Crown.

The ship was an unknown design, and had been thought to be impenetrable, until Sherlock had gained entry. While advancing toward the signal indicated by the blue dot, he had noted signs of minor disturbances, as if a prior search had been undertaken. However, he saw no one and his instruments gave no sign.

Turning around, Sherlock received the first indications he was not alone when a bright ball of yellow plasma collided with his pale energy shield, knocking him back against the wall. He quickly pushed off and dodged to the right, just avoiding the next volley.

He peered from behind a metallic crate to see an odd fellow in some type of bodysuit, molded to his skin. His face was covered by only a small mask set upon the bridge of his nose, and he had dark hair, arcing eyebrows, and pointed ears. The man was surrounded by a bright yellow light that amplified the pale yellow of this outfit, and Sherlock found little comfort in the fact that the fellow didn't seem to possess any weapons - or anything else for that matter.

Sherlock pulled a large formidable-looking gun from its mount along the right thigh of his armored suit. He hadn't expected an armed conflict, and hoped the weapon would prove serviceable.

He rolled from behind the crate into a kneeling position, and released a supercharged electron beam into his opponent. The man was momentarily gripped in place by circulating lines of current, and Sherlock rose quickly and fled back toward the exit.

Sherlock's powered armor was a bit old, but carried him rapidly through the derelict ship. Just as he made to exit back to the Watson, a yellow band wrapped around his waist and pulled him backward.

Immobilized somehow by the energy band, Sherlock was rotated around to face the strange man.

"Let's see what the great Sherlock Holmes desires with this odd raven's head," the man commented quietly, while extending a yellow beam that bored through Sherlock's helmet.

.

Looking forward to your comments.

Terlin