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"At first glance, yes, the criminal might seem to be a reindeer, due to the incriminating hoofmarks. But a closer look reveals the residue of latex, a substance which is not easily produced in a pre-industrial world, which leaves me with only one option—the criminal has eaten the Latex Latex fruit. Since no one can eat two devil fruits, this proves the reindeer innocent, and clearly implicates the only person without an alibi and without a known devil fruit power, Captain Morgan!" Sherlock crossed his arms. "Case closed."
A dark haired boy in a straw hat pounded him on the back. "Awesome! Now we can drop him off with the marines, get my doctor, and continue on our adventure!"
Sherlock attempted to shake loose the hand around his shoulders. "Who are you, and why does your arm get longer the more I try to shove it off?"
"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"
"Like bloody hell you are," Sherlock mumbled. "It was my childhood dream to be a pirate, and if anyone is going to be king it's going to be me." His mouth felt fuzzy. He tried to blink and realized his eyes were shut. "Whaz?"
"We've been drugged, Sherlock." The voice was John's. Sherlock forced his eyes open.
"Where are we?"
A rich British voice drawled, "A five-by-five room in need of some structural repairs." Sherlock recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had introduced himself at the party as "Mr. Black," right before Sherlock realized that his drink had a funny aftertaste. "They would like us to believe that we're in an isolated location outside of London, but I'm pretty sure they just stuck us in the basement."
"And who, pray tell, are 'they'?" Sherlock attempted to struggle to a sitting position despite his hands being tied behind his back. In the dark he heard John move over and begin working at untying the knots—he must have managed to get loose on his own. No surprise, since these incompetents hadn't even noticed that Sherlock had handcuffs in his hidden jacket pocket.
Their fellow captive said, "It's the Chinese mafia, obviously. I assumed you were also here because the infamous Hao Lin has started to deal in secrets as well as black market goods."
"No, actually, we were just looking for-"
Sherlock was interrupted when the door was flung open and Hao Lin strode in, flanked by five Chinese thugs.
John clocked the first one over the head with a stray block of cement. Mr. Black brought another down with an elegant neck-chop, while kicking the man sneaking up behind him in the shins (no surprise that he'd gotten loose too). Sherlock threw a well-aimed punch to bring him down while he was reeling from the kick, but he hardly need to have bothered, since John's efficient actions with the block of cement had the remaining mafia on the ground and unconscious.
The gentleman in the suit clapped him on the back. "Excellent work. Help me tie up Hao Lin, he's the only one we need."
"We?" Sherlock said, "The only reason we're here is because taking a drink off the same tray as you got us knocked unconscious. This Chinese thing was not my case."
"The name is Bond, James Bond. The British government thanks you for your services, or surely will once the arrest of Hao Lin gets me my job back."
"Isn't this the second time you've lost your job and gotten in back in the space of a few months? Maybe they don't want you around," John quipped.
Bond frowned. "How do you know that?"
Sherlock said, "Despite our inadvertent entanglement in your problems, it's you we came here looking, on behalf of an acquaintance. Mr. 'Black', it appears that the secretary you seduced in Sussex has become pregnant. Didn't take proper care with the protection? Her grandmother knows a woman named Miss Marple, who in turn asked me to look for your location. I confess that when I first took the job I did not realize what a colossal pain it would be."
John said, "Oh, stop complaining Sherlock. Miss Marple, Ivy Malone, Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley, the Snoop Sisters, and Sister Mary Helen have all been very helpful to you at no cost. You were the one who thought it was brilliant to start an information network of little old lady detectives. You might have accepted that at some point they would expect some favors in return. Forcing me to help them move furniture and drive them places does not count."
Sherlock said, "Messy details aside, at least this has turned into a decent case. I've captured two criminals of international fame."
"Two?
"The other one would be you yourself, Mr. Bond. Consider yourself under citizen's arrest on the charges of trespassing. Nice handy charge, trespassing, and it will keep you in place long enough for some child support to be taken out of your bank account."
"I work for the British government!"
"Not at the moment, do you? You're off the radar. Which makes you a common criminal. John, handcuffs."
"You could get them yourself," John grumbled, while nevertheless slipping a hand into the secret pouch on the back of the detective's coat and handing them to Sherlock, who slapped them on James Bond's wrists. Admittedly, Bond easily elbowed Sherlock in the forehead and twisted free so that John had to kick his legs under him and sit on him, but Sherlock was still technically the one who locked the handcuffs.
Nursing an egg-sized bruise with a handkerchief, Sherlock mumbled, "Spies are one step away from being criminals anyway. And I never wanted to be a spy, that was Mycroft. My childhood criminal fantasy was being a pirate."
He ignored the odd look John was giving him.