Confusing? Potential tweak to Mayhem's start (334 words)

[AnyaKimlin]

I edited it and now it's about 420 words. My head is in a really funny place for various reasons so I apologise if this is a bigger train wreck than my character believes Holmes and Watson to be:

Sherlock Holmes is an idiot -- turn the page -- seriously, I couldn't live with the self confessed miserable genius. Dr Watson is a bigger idiot for even thinking about it. What happens next... hmm… they've moved into 221B Baker Street. It's a train wreck waiting to happen but like with all good disasters I can't take my eyes off the book because I need to know what they do next. Every few pages there are moments of intelligent writing like when he describes a drop of water and I can envisage the whole Atlantic Ocean on Earth, a planet so far removed from Litae in science, space and time that it stretches believability. But some of the stories in the franchise have me hooked.

I shift a little and Galileo meows his annoyance at being disturbed from the nap which he was taking nestled into the small of my back. He climbs off me and walks up the bed so he can glare at me with his saucer green eyes before treating me to cat butt. His fluffy black tail tickles my face.

“Angus!”

Dad sounds angry – angrier than usual. I shove Galileo out the way. Chapter Two: The Science of Deduction. Apparently Sherlock is freakishly tall, like me and plays the violin, like me, but how can he hope to understand anything if he doesn't know anything about the universe his planet is a part of. I check the front cover for the author's name… and suspect that Arthur Conan Doyle is trying to cheat so he doesn't have to do any major worldbuilding.

“Arse! Out here – now!” This time he punctuated his words with a barrage of knocks.

It's my arse I'm worried about. Had my grandfather still been alive I'd be chained to a post being flogged within an inch of my life. Fortunately, for me, the man the media call King Mouse is on the other side of the door instead and he's never laid a finger on me. The ancient iron key is in the locked position and unlike the digital panel he can't override it – not without knocking down the thick oak door which has stood for eight centuries. Back then the monarchs were more concerned about security than the lamebrain that installed the state of the art system that my father favours. There is enough food in my wardrobe for me to survive a lengthy siege. He doesn't actually know for sure if I'm here, because my GPS chip is telling him I'm studying in the school library.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

It was officially a disaster and I'm hoping this is better:

Sherlock Holmes is a miserable excuse for a man – I lick my finger and turn the page – he's managed to con that Dr Watson into moving into 221B Baker Street with him. It's a car crash waiting to happen – turn the page – and like any appalling disaster I can't drag myself away from it. There are moments of genius in the writing like when there is a description of a drop of water and I can envisage the whole Atlantic Ocean on Earth. For a planet that is far removed from the realities of science, space and time many of the stories set on the world suck me in and have me believing in the possibility that it may exist.

I shift and there is an aggrieved meow from Galileo who has slipped off the small of my back. He stalks up the bed to glare at me with his saucer green eyes, turns round twice and presents me with cat butt. His fluffy black tail tickles my nose and gets in the way of my reading.

“Angus!”

Dad sounds angry -- angrier than normal. He doesn't know for sure I'm in here, because The GPS chip buried in the part of my back I cannot reach is telling him I'm studying in the school library. I shove Galileo out of the way and turn to Chapter Two: The Science of Deduction. Apparently for Victorian England, Sherlock is freakishly tall, a bit like me I'm freakishly tall for Covesea Island, and he plays the violin, like me, but how can someone pretend to understand reasoning and deduction if he doesn't at least try to understand his place in the universe? This man is a mass of contradictions I'm struggling to make sense of.

“Angus! Arse out here – now!”

It's my arse I'm worried about although not literally as he's never laid a hand one me. Dad hammers on the door and it's making it difficult to concentrate on the bit about Sherlock Holmes's friends from the various classes in society. Any friends I have are rigorously checked by the security forces.

“If you don't come out here I'll come in there and drag you out.” There's more banging on the door.

The thought of him dragging my monstrous six-foot-eleven frame anywhere makes me snigger and my brain performs a mouth bypass. “You and whose army?”

He does actually have an army, navy and air force at his command but he's never used them for a domestic matter. Unfortunately, he also now knows for sure I'm not studying for my exams at school. I check that the ancient iron key is in the locked position. Unlike the digital panel it can't be hacked, well only by breaching the thick oak door which was built to last eight centuries ago.

 

[Warren_Paul]

It was officially a disaster and I'm hoping this is better:

Sherlock Holmes is a miserable excuse for a man – I lick my finger and turn the page – he's managed to con that Dr Watson into moving into 221B Baker Street with him. It's a car crash waiting to happen – turn the page – and like any appalling disaster I can't drag myself away from it. There are moments of genius in the writing[comma?] like when there is a description of a drop of water and I can envisage the whole Atlantic Ocean on Earth. For a planet that is far removed from the realities of science, space and time many of the stories set on the world suck me in and have me believing in the possibility that it may exist.

I shift and there is an aggrieved meow from Galileo who has slipped off the small of my back. He stalks up the bed to glare at me with his saucer green eyes, turns round twice and presents me with cat butt. His fluffy black tail tickles my nose and gets in the way of my reading.

“Angus!”

Dad sounds angry -- angrier than normal. He doesn't know for sure I'm in here, because The GPS chip buried in the part of my back I cannot reach is telling him I'm studying in the school library. I shove Galileo out of the way and turn to Chapter Two: The Science of Deduction. Apparently for Victorian England, Sherlock is freakishly tall, a bit like me[stop? colon?] I'm freakishly tall for Covesea Island, and he plays the violin, like me, but how can someone pretend to understand reasoning and deduction if he doesn't at least try to understand his place in the universe? This man is a mass of contradictions I'm struggling to make sense of.

“Angus! Arse out here – now!”

It's my arse I'm worried about although not literally as he's never laid a hand one me.[I don't understand what you mean by this. Context issue?] Dad hammers on the door and it's making it difficult to concentrate on the bit about Sherlock Holmes's friends from the various classes in society. Any friends I have are rigorously checked by the security forces.

“If you don't come out here I'll come in there and drag you out.” There's more banging on the door.

The thought of him dragging my monstrous six-foot-eleven frame anywhere makes me snigger and my brain performs a mouth bypass. “You and whose army?”

He does actually have an army, navy and air force at his command but he's never used them for a domestic matter. Unfortunately, he also now knows for sure I'm not studying for my exams at school. I check that the ancient iron key is in the locked position. Unlike the digital panel it can't be hacked, well only by breaching the thick oak door which was built to last eight centuries ago.

Your rewrite fixed many of the points I was going to say about wordiness, so that's good. Means I now don't have a lot to say, except to wonder if you should be referencing another author's works within your own? Being Sherlock Holmes I know it doesn't have any troubles with copyright matters because it's public domain, and I guess it does identify the setting as being related to Earth in some way, but doesn't talking about it encourage the reader to go read that book instead, even if just to check out what Angus is reading? Seems like a distraction to me. I probably would have invented another fictional story to discuss, but that's just me.

Otherwise, just a couple minor quibbles.

Good work!

 

[Dan Jones]

and my brain performs a mouth bypass. “You and whose army?”

Shouldn't this be the other way around, as in "my mouth performs a brain bypass?"?

Unlike the digital panel it can't be hacked, well only by breaching the thick oak door which was built to last eight centuries ago.

This is a bit awkward. I know what you mean but it's a little clumsy. How about creating some sort of play on words with "hack" like "the only hacking you could do on the 800-year old oak door would be with an axe." Or would that not be in character?

Other than that, I think it's ok. It's certainly intriguing. I do understand what you're trying to do more easily in the second version, and it works.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

Being Sherlock Holmes I know it doesn't have any troubles with copyright matters because it's public domain, and I guess it does identify the setting as being related to Earth in some way, but doesn't talking about it encourage the reader to go read that book instead, even if just to check out what Angus is reading? Seems like a distraction to me. I probably would have invented another fictional story to discuss, but that's just me.

In order to work it needs to be a well known story set on Earth. I'm hoping the next few paragraphs which suggest the book is banned may intrigue people to read mine and check out Conan Doyle later.

How about:
Far, far away from Litae in terms of science and credibility, the stories from the Earth Franchise often have me hooked and wishing the world really existed.

Shouldn't this be the other way around, as in "my mouth performs a brain bypass?"?

Yes it should be. Right now I have a migraine and struggling to get things done.

This is a bit awkward. I know what you mean but it's a little clumsy. How about creating some sort of play on words with "hack" like "the only hacking you could do on the 800-year old oak door would be with an axe." Or would that not be in character?

The idea is good and not far off how about:

He's not got enough muscle to override the security on the eight hundred year old door. Back then monarchs were far more concerned with their security than whoever my father got to install our state of the art computer system.