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Abraham Lincoln: Unconventional Renesmee Killer

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It had been one month since the birth of Renesmee James Button. Renesmee was not like other girls. She had inherited the backwards-aging button gene from her father Cole, the vampirical button gene from her great-uncle Abraham, and the Indian gene from her father Rahul. As it was, Renesmee was born a 25-year-old half-Indian vampire with long blonde locks inherited from Jim Treliving.


Currently, Renesmee was playing at the park with Sherlock and John. They were pushing her down the slide and catching her at the bottom. You see, ever since not being named her godparents, they had harboured a jealous rage and were determined to win the love of both her and her fathers. They hoped that one day they would claim their rightful role as her godparents.




Meanwhile, Abraham perched on the edge of his couch, polishing his candlestick with his enemy’s tears. “My precious...” he growled ferociously, his manimalistic instincts rising up inside of him. He was a handsome ex-president possessed as he got down on all fours and galloped to the window, the well-polished candlestick abandoned on the floor. Looking out of the window, he could see Renesmee at the park, playing on the slide with Sherlock and John. If only he could find a way to get Renesmee to enter the kitchen, so he could kill her with a candlestick, in the kitchen!


He had been replacing all the old billboards this week, sending subliminal messages to Renesmee and her caregivers. The seductive call of kitchen portraits and the words, ‘Don’t you feel like going in the kitchen?’ spelled out in gorgeous colourful scrawl had to be working. Abraham would avenge Jimmy’s death and Jim Treliving’s betrayal by murdering Jim’s only grandchild if it was the last thing he did, even if that grandchild was Abraham’s only great-niece. Most nights, he could hardly stifle his fiery vengeance as he perched on his couch, fervently polishing. It had been hard, recently, to keep his rag wet with the tears of his enemies, since things had been so happy around Baker Street. He’d had to enter Chazz’s room at night and slip eye drops into his sleepy eyes to collect the dripping tears. What a hard life he lived. Abraham often said to himself, “WHAT IS THIS LIFE!”, struggling to comprehend why bad things always happen to Brad.


But nonetheless, Abraham’s exaction would be put into motion as soon as possible. Exacting revenge had turned out to take longer than he had originally planned the first time, and now Abraham wasn’t sure how long this would take. He had been perched on the couch for two months, and hadn’t eaten for five. Sighing deeply, Abraham settled down for a long South Dakotan sleep, visions of candlesticks dancing though his head.




Since the death of Jimmy, Chazz hadn’t been the same. He often awoke in the middle of the night with tears in his eyes, craving the Moaning Roberts that he’d been drowning his sorrows in since Jimmy’s death. On this particular night, he awoke with a fiery vengeance. Taking note of the billboards outside his window, he chuckled fondly, “I must go to the kitchen ASAP.” Once there, he mixed himself a Moaning Robert and reflected on the past two months. He’d been trying to throw himself into his godparenting role, but was finding it increasingly difficult under the scrutinous eyes of Sherlock Holmes and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson, who always took Renesmee whenever they could and made open threats to Chazz. They’d often “teased” him about murdering him or hiring a malaria hitman to finish him off, and although they were supposedly jokes, Chazz could sense the serious undertones in their words.


Unfortunately, Cole and Rahul were never around to witness these threats. Cole was working on both selling patriotic skates and digging (archaeologically), and Rahul had fled to Tuscany. You see, Rahul had been floating on air! He’d given birth last month to a 25 year-old half-Indian vampire with long, blonde locks. But in spite of all this excitement, something truly detestable happened after the birth. When Rahul saw that his daughter, Renesmee, had been born as a 25 year-old half-Indian vampire with long, blonde locks, he balked and ran to the nearest St. Lawrence river coast. Rahul promptly dove into the nearby St. Lawrence river waters and never stopped swimming until he reached Tuscany, Italy. The last anyone had heard from him, he’d moved in with Melanie Button and was attempting to gracefully transition back to being a straight man.


So Chazz suffered quietly alone in his apartment, having lost three friends in the past few months. He hadn’t been able to activate the power of his friendship in too long. He used to wake up happy, knowing that Jim, Sherlock, and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson would be there to brighten his day. But now, Jim lay dead underground and the two detectives were obsessed with replacing Chazz as godparent, and constantly antagonized him. Chazz fixed himself Moaning Robert after Moaning Robert as he thought about what the future may have in store for him. He still wore the friendship bracelet on his wrist, a painful reminder of his tormented past, and what he now had to live without. Not a day went by when he didn’t crave someone to roast weenies with or beat in a deep game of Stella Ella Ola.


Presently, Chazz stared out his kitchen window, drunk off Moaning Robert after Moaning Robert. In the distance, he could see the two notoriously gay detectives playing with Renesmee on the swings. They’ve been out there for hours... he thought suspiciously. It’s the middle of the night... that doesn’t even make sense. While peering through the window, he caught sight of Abraham’s elusive kitchen billboards once again, and felt the urge to exit the kitchen and re-enter the kitchen. Those billboards really WERE effective. He sighed deeply, and, in his drunken stupor, passed out for a long South Dakotan forty winks.

Chapter Text

Diane Buckner had a tormented past. Before becoming a TV host, Diane had become a mother. That was back when she called herself (foolishly) Dianne, and slept around, and still doesn’t know who fathered her child, Gleen Buckner. So embarrassed by her son, she had fled South Dakota, her hometown, and moved to Alberta (after legally changing her name to Diane to avoid recognition). But eventually, Dianne realised that she hated being away from the son she might never know, and decided, on a whim, to reclaim her son and enroll him back in school. Gleen’s current school, McKinley High in Ohio, was not going so well. For the summer, Gleen was staying with Diane on Mount Rushmore, where they could spend their days listening to Metallica and spilling the beans. Diane had decided on South Dakota after attending Jim’s funeral on Mount Rushmore and remembering how much she missed it. Besides that, it was only convenient since she heard of Jim Treliving’s hilarious death and decided to go and spill the beans at his funeral.


Presently, Diane was unpacking moving boxes. They’d moved in to 221F Baker Street for the summer, and still had some unopened boxes. “MOM.” Gleen came up behind her and tugged on the bottom of her shirt pitifully. “The man a few apartments below us is CYBERBULLYING ME!” he cried. While Diane stared at Gleen wide-eyed, Gleen muttered to himself. “Yes, we must tell Dianses. Oh, my precious, those men, they must be in troubles now! Now, my precious, fuck you I’ll go listen to my metal music alone.” Unconcerned, Diane asked Gleen to lead her to the man that was bullying him so she could have a few words with him. Gleen, still crying, led her down the stairs to apartment 221C, where Chazz had just woken up from his forty winks. Upon hearing Diane’s insistent knocks, Chazz rushed to the door and flung it wide open, expecting it to be Cole. His heart sunk upon seeing Diane, and his eye twitched maliciously upon seeing Gleen behind her. He’d never met the boy, but just the sight of his large headphones, wide eyes, and hunched-over, small body angered Chazz.

“Can I help you?” Chazz asked politely, hiding his thinly veiled disgust through a chuckle.

“Fuck yOU i’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I WAS AN HONOURARY WARBLER-” Gleen was cut off by Diane holding him back and apologizing to Chazz. “Sorry, he gets frustrated easily,” Diane sighed, far too used to this behaviour. Meanwhile, while being held back by the arms, Gleen screamed obscenities that didn’t seem to be in any language in particular, maniacally thrashing his torso.

“gleen go sit in the corner u lil shit!” Chazz screamed, tears rolling down his face. Activating the power of his strong instant disliking, Chazz suddenly realized the boy’s name was Gleen.

“Let’s just all sit down, maybe have a drink, and discuss what we came here to discuss.” Diane asserted, after everyone calmed down. Chazz invited her and Gleen inside, roasted up some Spilled Java Beans, and they all sat down around the microwave.

“This is my favourite drink!” Diane remarked happily. Gleen was still cowering at his chair, refusing to join Diane and Chazz in a game of Stella Ella Ola.

“So, Diane and Gleen, why are you here, anyway?” Chazz asked curiously.

“I’ve heard that you are cyberbullying my son,” Diane chuckled fondly.

“Um...” Chazz began, and Gleen cut him off with, “You know my name, not my story lol. You know what I’ve done lol, but not what I’ve been through. I kinda thought you were cyberbullying me in that way lol. Also, Cineplex seats are way better than Empire seats lol. And Ajax is like the best town ever it’s the coolest thing since sliced bread lol. The only thing better than Ajax is Metallica lol.”

When Gleen finished his pitiful soliloquy, Chazz and Diane were left awestruck at the maturity and thought-provoking genius in his careful words. The brilliant young man had blinded them with his beautiful mind.

“That was a lovely speech Gleen, but I’m not cyberbullying you,” Chazz pointed out.

“Yes you are now everyone’s talking about it everyone’s telling rumours about me lol.” Gleen said furiously.

“I don’t own a computer, I didn’t even meet you until a few minutes ago, and I’ve been lying in the kitchen in a drunken stupor for two months. How could I have cyberbullied you?”

“You called me gay and said I was dating that guy and that if I met him in real life I would love him but I wouldn’t cuz I’m not gay so fuck off I’m so metal,” Gleen retorted, standing up to leave. Chazz was wide-eyed at how angry Gleen had become, and stared at Gleen’s back as he pulled his defendant mother out of the apartment.

He could hear Gleen caterwauling on his way out, “MOM. The unconventional long-haired archaeologist on the floor above is CYBERBULLYING ME.”

Once Gleen was out of earshot, Chazz rose to mix himself another drink, when he noticed something lying abandoned and forgotten next to the microwave. Could it be... Gleen’s precious? The precious was a small, pocket-sized candlestick with an engraving of the words, “METAL LYFE lol” engraved in curly writing on the side. Chazz picked up the trinket and turned it over in his hands, thinking it might make a great new design for a patriotic skate. As Chazz was the sole pride-showing businessman now, he could do whatever he wanted with the business.

Chazz was struck with an idea: a new skate design, a new market, a new... mountain?




Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson were laying peacefully in their warm bed, happy just to be in each other’s presence. They’d had plenty of time to spend together and with Renesmee these past fews months, and they fell more in love with each other every day. They’d just overheard the conversation between Chazz, Diane, and Gleen and they had just finished laughing maliciously. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson pulled out his laptop and opened up his blog. Sherlock settled into his lap and together, they composed a new blog entry, “gleen is not metal lol and ajax sux and he’s in luv with rahul and everyone knows it lol”. He clicked the publish button and the two detectives layed back down, now content with their cyberbullying. Yesterday, from the angle his tears fell at, Sherlock had deduced Gleen’s past while watching him move in. He knew that the boy did not have godparents and that Diane had once abandoned him to go live in Alberta. It was then that Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson hatched their evil plan. They would cyberbully Gleen until Diane became fed up again and abandoned him in South Dakota, leaving the boy in need of godparents. They once again laughed maliciously at their plan as they cuddled and prepared for a deep, South Dakotan sleep.



Chapter Text

Gleen stomped angrily around the apartment. Ever since losing his precious, he hadn’t slept forty winks. On top of all of that, he had been cyberbullied! Gleen had seen mysterious blog posts recently, making attacks against him, and he hadn’t an idea who was writing them. Weeping softly, Gleen opened his expensive, beaten-up laptop and typed in the web address of, The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson. Gleen found a brand new post there! It said, butter sucks but not as much as Gleen lol. Who could have possibly written this? Gleen squinted at the computer screen in ultimate confusion, trying to figure out who might have a grudge against him. Gleen clicked on another link that led him to, the personal blog of notoriously gay consulting detective W. Sherlock James Holmes.

Posted recently on the website was one single sentence: .lol the only thing worse than ajax is gleen lol It’s so hurtful, and he just couldn’t figure out who could be posting these terrible accusations and cyberbully-esque opinions!

Full of a fiery rage, Gleen threw his laptop to the side in that way and fled to his bookshelf. His favourite book, Decisions by Jim Treliving would always comfort him. Gleen was once a happy name. It was the Hebrew name for Diane, his mother! Having the same Hebrew name as his mom was always comforting, and kept him close to home. When she was far away, he just thought of their shared Hebrew name and practically felt her warm embrace.

“Gleen it’s time to go lol. We’re going to see a movie at Cineplex.” Diane told her son.

“Oh that’s a nice theatre lol i love there seats, i hate the empire seats lol. But before we go, MOM, THE 25-YEAR OLD HALF-INDIAN VAMPIRE WITH FLOWING BLONDE LOCKS IS CYBERBULLYING ME!” Gleen shrieked, tossing his rubber duck across the room with vigorous anger.

“We’ll deal with it later, honey.” Diane asserted.
“No F.U. i am being cyberbullied and either we deal with this now or i go listen to my metal music alone!” Gleen screamed, balling his fists and beating the floor.

“Alright, we’ll confront Renesmee. Are you sure she’s cyberbullying you?”
“SHE”S CYBERBULLYING me.” Gleen screamed, metalling furiously.


And so the mother and son went to the playground to confront the 25-year-old half-Indian vampire. When they got there, Renesmee was being pushed down the slide by Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson was catching her at the bottom, both men with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

“fuk u u lil shit ur just a ass who cyberbullied me!” Gleen pouted, sitting in the sandbox and attempting to bury himself alive.

“I’m only a month old and I don’t own a computer and I’ve never met you! Besides, there isn’t even wi-fi on Mount Rushmore.” the 25-year-old half-Indian vampire replied.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson sat on the swings and laughed maliciously at the thought of Gleen not knowing that it was them who bullied him. They abruptly stopped laughing maliciously and began to chuckle fondly at seeing their two future godchildren engaged in a ferocious brawl.

Renesmee, on the other hand, was very confused. It was hard enough living near to a hot slice like Diane, but with Diane’s son bullying her, things just got very difficult!



When Renesmee got home that morning at 3:45, a red-haired, hand-me down robed, stupid-complexioned,  beauty with hot eyes was outside her bedroom door. Renesmee was taken aback. “Will you go out with me?” she asked. “Most certainly, my fair wench!” “”Like, right now?” “Most certainly, my fair wench!” Delighted, Renesmee clutched the Ginny’s hand, planning to take her to Dragons’ Denny’s at 4 a.m. Renesmee suddenly realized that the woman’s name was the Ginevra (the Ginny’s fine)!

After they finished their meal at Dragons’ Denny’s, Renesmee pulled out her wallet to pay. She extracted a cat out of a bag, a scalene triangle, 20 things that aren’t Skrillex, the secret Krabby Patty formula, and a day from her past and laid them on the table to pay for everything they had eaten and drank in the last 15 minutes.

When they got back to the apartment, Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson were waiting for her. The Ginny kissed her goodnight and left. Renesmee hugged Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson and gushed about her date to the two men who she trusted more than anyone.

You see, ever since her father Rahul swam out the St. Lawrence river to Tuscany, she’d been distant from her father Cole, and Chazz and Abraham were frankly, not very good godparents. She had been forced to put her trust in Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson. She had even moved in with them so she could consume more of their time and attention.

Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson got her everything she needed and more, from unlubed drainage maps to lubed topographical maps. They payed an old priest and a young priest for her meals daily, and there were hardly any priests left in the Northern United States (excluding middle-aged priests). People were starting to wonder why no priests below age 30 and above age 60 ever seemed to be priesting any more.

“How was your date?” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson asked.

“No, don’t tell me, I’ve already deduced from the angle that you waved hello to me that a mysterious red-haired, hand-me-down robed, stupid-complexioned beauty showed up at your door and you took a fabulous trip to Dragons’ Denny’s, where you fell romantically in love with the gorgeous redhead named the Ginevra Weasley.”

“That’s exactly what happened!” Renesmee said, delighted that the two detectives knew her

so well and she could confide in them. The happy family got ready for bed together, brushing their teeth side by side and wearing matching pajamas. Happy and ready to tuck in, Sherlock and Renesmee slid into the king-sized bed and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson tucked them in before joining them to snuggle and tell bedtime stories.

But, b’fore turning out the light, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson pulled out his laptop for one last late-night blog post. Okay cool. ps. sherlock is perfect lol <3

Chapter Text

Gleen thrashed in his sleep, mumbling angry curses. “U cyber bullied me to.... and u have no clue what I have been thro in my life..... why do u think I listen to metal..... honestly my life has been.. horrible then u guys come along and make it even worse..... so shut up”  He awoke suddenly with a fiery vengeance. “MOM. Jim Treliving, who is clearly one of five hosts of a reality investment show, is CYBERBULLYING ME.”

“Honey, Jim Treliving is dead.” he heard from the next room.

“Oh.” Gleen thought dismally, laying back down for a long South Dakotan sleep.

However, in the apartment below him, loud cheering could be heard. Abraham had just been pleasantly reminded of Jim’s demise and couldn’t help but take a break from polishing to celebrate.


In the next room, Diane was far from celebrating. Initially, reconnecting with her son had seemed like a great idea, but it was an idea she had grown to regret. Every day she found herself missing Alberta more and more, but she just couldn’t bring it upon herself to leave Gleen behind. There were only two options now: to find a pair of people interested in godparenting to look after him, or to send him away to boarding school in Wyoming. Troubled by her tormented future, Diane went to her desk and began to compose a letter.


Dear Sherlock and John,

There is something that has been troubling me and I think you may be just the godfathers I need to talk to. You see, I have a very tormented past. I had Gleen when I was just a teenager and I still don’t know who fathered him. After abandoning him to go to Alberta, I was struck with regret and returned to become a proper mother to him. However, after just one week with him, I realized that I was right to leave him. I simply can’t stand him, his metal music, and his accusatory lifestyle. I’m afraid I may lose my mind if I have to spend one more day with Gleen and without Alberta.. If you would do me the honour of godparenting Gleen so I can go back to Alberta to be with the people I love, I would be forever indebted to you.

Much love,

your neighbour Diane Buckner


She finished her letter and sealed it in an envelope. She then walked down to the apartment of Renesmee and the two detectives and slid the envelope under the door.



Within a day, Diane got her reply:

Dear Diane,

Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson and I would be right pleased to take in Gleen after you move to Alberta. In all honesty, we’ve had our eyes on godparenting him for quite a while. I believe him and Renesmee will get along great, just like real siblings.

P.S. I have deduced from the angle you wrote your letter at that you have previously been in a sexual relationship with Gollum. Given the Gollum-like characteristics of your son, you may want to consider the possibility of a paternal connection between the two.


your neighbour Sherlock Holmes


Diane chuckled fondly. She was relieved to see that Sherlock was sympathetic to her plight. And so, being careful not to wake Gleen, Diane packed her bags. She could hardly resist jumping for joy as she took one last look at Gleen, still sleeping fitfully and muttering about cyberbullying. Diane left Baker Street that night, never to return again.


And so, when Gleen woke up in the morning screaming, “MOM. A handsome ex-president is CYBERBULLYING ME!”, there was no one to hear his pleas. And on the kitchen counter he found a note:



Your accusatory lifestyle is too much for me to manage. I am gone. Please do not try to contact me. I am leaving you in the loving care of your two new godfathers, Chazz and Abraham.

Love always,




Chapter Text

Gleen couldn’t stifle his sobs as he moved into Chazz’s apartment. He unpacked fitfully, twitching and muttering under his breath about Diane and cyberbullying. Chazz meanwhile was laying drunk on the kitchen floor. He absolutely loathed his new godson Gleen and couldn’t fathom why Diane had left him with Chazz. I’ll need to look into sending him to a boarding school to get him away from me. Chazz thought. Just then, a Brokeback barn owl hit their window.




Sherlock gently punched through the wall with rage.

“How!? How could she have left Gleen in the care of Chazz and Abraham!? She barely knows them! We were destined to godfather him, John!”

“I know, Sherlock. I know.” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson said soothingly, softly rubbing Sherlock’s back. “Don’t worry, he’ll come to us eventually.”

“Just like Renesmee? Sherlock said sharply. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson shot him a look.

“Sherlock, we’re doing the best we can. Renesmee is living with us!”

“It isn’t enough!” Sherlock screamed. Full of rage, Sherlock stormed out of the kitchen and off to cower in Abraham’s nose. Sad from their fight, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson put on Sudanese Days: The True Life of the Fabulous Dr. Gaylove, his body wracked with sobs.




Back in Chazz’s apartment, Gleen opened the window to let the Brokeback owl inside. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Brokeback owl!” Gleen yakked. Gleen suddenly realized that the Brokeback owl had a thick, creamy envelope tied to his feet. It was addressed to:


Mr. Gleen Buckner

221C Baker Street

Top O’ Mount Rushmore

Chazz’s Second Bedroom


Gleen couldn’t believe he had mail! Excited, he tore the envelope open with his teeth. His beady eyes devoured the letter in front of him. It read:


Dear Mr. Buckner,


We are pleased to inform you of your Brokeback acceptance to Brokeback School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Wyoming. Attached is a list of Brokeback books you’ll need to pick up and where to buy them. We expect your return owl no later than Brokeback tomorrow.


Love always,

Brokeback Professor Dumbledore


Wide eyed and grinning ear-to-ear, Gleen eagerly pulled out the second piece of paper from the envelope and read.


First Years Are Required to Have These Books:


The Standard Book of Brokeback Spells (Grade 1)

A History of Brokeback Magic

Magical Brokeback Theory

One Thousand Magical Brokeback Herbs and Fungi

Magical Drafts and Brokeback Potions

Fantastic Brokeback Beasts and Where to Find Them

The Dark Forces: A Brokeback Guide to Self-Protection


These books can be purchased at Flourish and Blott’s in Dianegone Alley. You can reach Dianegone Alley through the back of Dragon’s Denny’s. Tap on the wall with your candlestick and the entrance will open up. You will also find in Dianegone Alley our wizarding bank, Gleengotts, The Weepy Cauldron, and you can run to Ollivander’s Candlestick Shoppe,


We hope to see you come September 1st on Platform 24601 and 3/4.



Brokeback Professor Dumbledore


Gleen jiggled his uvula around in glee. He couldn’t wait to get to Dragon’s Denny’s, and then to Dianegone Alley. It sounded like Brokeback School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be a hoot and a half.


“Chazz!” Gleen wailed, and Chazz came stumbling towards him, reeking of Moaning Roberts.


“Chazz! I want to go to Brokeback School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! It’ll be perfect lol.” Chazz could feel the heavens above smiling down on him warmly. Finally! A reason to get rid of Gleen! he thought maliciously. Chazz started cackling, and Gleen bounded away, eager to pack his stuff and start his new life in Wyoming.




Downstairs, wakes-the-dead crying could be heard from the two detectives, who had just overheard the conversation between Chazz and Gleen. Sherlock had already deduced exactly what the letter had said from the angle that the Brokeback barn owl had flown at, but he didn’t expect that Gleen would actually go to the Wyoming school. How could he leave his future godfathers like that, so suddenly? Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson couldn’t control their tears as they held each other, mourning the loss of Gleen.


Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson sobbed into the chest of his longtime partner. Sherlock held him tight and tried to comfort him. “Shh.. it’s okay. We knew that it was too good to be true. We couldn’t be almost-godparents to two beautiful children. We have Renesmee, and it won’t be long until Chazz mysteriously contracts malaria and chooses not to cure it and Abraham slips in the kitchen and accidentally kills himself with his candlestick. Don’t cry anymore, my love.”



Chapter Text

Renesmee had to beg the Ginny for hours on end until she agreed to move in. Her final argument, “It’s silly to have been dating this long and not be living together.” finally sent the Ginny over the edge. Since the Ginny was returning to boarding school in September, she brought all of her school stuff and some clothes to the apartment. When Sherlock saw her, he was surprised.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, the Ginny! Renesmee didn’t tell us you were moving in!” he screamed, getting more jealous by the second. He ran into his room and jumped onto the bed, burying himself under the covers, anxious. “John!” he needed his gay lover now more than ever. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson ran into the room after him, worried.

“Sherlock, are you even okay?”

“The Ginny can’t move in, not now! We are so close to becoming her godparents, and now, she’s going to want to spend all her time with someone else!” Sherlock couldn’t control his sobs. Meanwhile, the Ginny and Renesmee were standing in the hallway, confused and awaiting Sherlock’s return. “You might as well finish unpacking, my godpapa will be a while.”

Upon hearing this, Sherlock’s ears perked up, his senses coming alive, and a smile lit up his face. He ran out of his bedroom and scooped up Renesmee in his arms, spinning her around and crying with joy.




Meanwhile, Abraham was plotting to exact his revenge. It had quickly become evident to him that the billboards were not working. But how? Never once, in all his years of exacting, had billboards ever failed the handsome ex-president. But it seemed like they weren’t influencing Renesmee at all. All Renesmee seemed to care about was going to the park with Sherlock and John, and taking the Ginny to Dragons’ Denny’s. That’s literally all she did. Abraham had to come up with a stronger motivator to get her to enter the kitchen.

And to get to her, he would have to know her weakness. Renesmee’s weakness? Easy.

The Ginny.

Cachinnating at an intolerable volume, so loud that the nearby Detective Street residents filed complaints, Abe galloped around the room, thrilled that he was one step closer to exacting his revenge on Jim Treliving. But how exactly can I use the Ginny against Renesmee? How can this possibly lead to the murder of Renesmee Button? Could I use the Ginny to get Renesmee to enter the kitchen? Could I influence the Ginny through a magical diary? Will Renesmee realize before it’s too late? Why do I have an erection? What if the Ginny doesn’t enter the kitchen? What will I do? What if I never exact my revenge? Abraham was overwhelmed by the fevered thoughts, and sadly lay down on his apartment floor (the only furniture in the flat was the couch. He’d never bothered to furnish with anything else), beefing softly.


After beefing softly for a few hours, the answer finally came to him. The limit does not exist! Renesmee seriously needed to pluck her gorgeous candlestick from the microwave. Her outfit looked like it was picked out by a blind malaria hitman. And she had some 99 cent hand-me-down robes on her stupid complexion. And that’s when he realized: Calling Renesmee ugly would not make her go into the kitchen. Calling her fat would not make his revenge any more exacted. And calling Renesmee stupid would not make his candlestick any shinier. Abraham decided that the only way to get Renesmee into the kitchen was to befriend her and invite her over, much to his dismay. Wasting no time, he immediately picked up his phone and dialed her number for the first time. She picked up on the first ring.


“Hello, Renesmee? This is Abraham, your godfather. I don’t believe we’ve met. It’s come to my attention that we haven’t been spending enough time together and that I haven’t been properly fulfilling my godfatherly duties. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to become part of your life.” he finished, talking slowly to hide his anger. He could hear Sherlock’s shrieks of sorrow on the other end of the phone line.

“I wasn’t expecting you to suggest that, Abraham,” Renesmee said, her voice full of precaution learned from Sherlock. Abe waited with bated breath to hear her reply. “But sure, I’ll chill with you. Meet me at the Dragons’ Denny’s at 4 a.m., in 8 hours.” Abruptly, Renesmee hung up the phone.




Meanwhile, in 221B, Sherlock screamed with rage, but still, the screams were not loud enough to drown out the malevolent split-one’s-sides-ing coming from Abe’s apartment. Filled with an insatiable rage, Sherlock stormed over to Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson and grabbed his hand, still screaming all the while, pulling him to the computer.

“This is what I want you to type,” Sherlock started, barely giving time for Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson to log into his blog, The Personal Blog of Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson. “Abraham Lincoln (nee Button) is a scum-sucking road whore. He ruined my life.”

Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson carefully typed out the intricate sentence and published the blog post, Sherlock screaming meanwhile, pausing only to breathe and speak to him. Sherlock violently grabbed the nearest chalkboard, but accidentally picked up two instead of one, and had to throw the other one back onto a pile of countless other accidental chalkboards. i live such a CONSULTING lyfe lol. he thought dismally, gazing wistfully at the chalkboards. “Listen here, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson. We need to destroy Abraham. Abraham is an evil dictator. And how do you overthrow a dictator? You cut off his resources. Abraham would be nothing without his high-status man candy, his technically good physique, and his ignorant band of loyal followers. Sherlock wrote down on the chalkboard:


  • Aaron Samuels

  • “Hot” body

  • Army of Skanks


Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson stared at the list, utterly confused. “Um, Sherlock. Abraham doesn’t have any of those things. And who is Aaron Samuels?” Sherlock collapsed to the floor in despair. “I don’t know, John! I just don’t know! If those aren’t Abraham’s resources, then what are??”

For once in their relationship, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson was the one who held the solution. “We need to destroy Abraham. Abraham is an evil dictator. And how do you overthrow a dictator? You cut off his resources. Abraham would be nothing without his high-status manimal candy, his technically polished candlestick, and his ignorant flotilla of loyal Cruzi. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson picked up the discarded piece of chalk and wrote his own list on the chalkboard:


  • Actual manimal Greg Lestrade

  • “Polished” candlestick

  • Army of Cruzi (+1 Tina Fey)


The two detectives gazed at the sophisticated list and began to laugh maliciously, their plans for exacting Abraham’s demise finally beginning to take shape. And before going to bed that night, they made one final blog post: abe is just a ass lol.

Chapter Text

Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson sat cuddling on their sofa, still laughing maliciously at their thoughts. They were trying to figure out how to break up Abraham and his hot boyfriend, actual manimal Greg Lestrade. The two detectives had both known Lestrade personally, and were shocked to learn, a year ago, that he’d fled to Sudan after an unfortunate encounter with Jim Treliving. He’d evidently followed Abraham back to South Dakota and now, the two men were  in a serious relationship and were even contemplating moving in together. They’ve been dating too long to not be living together. “John, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“lol yeah probably.” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson said, pulling out his laptop. Logging in to his blog, the detectives laughed maliciously while formulating their newest blog post: candlestick polishing practice has been moved to the projection room above the auditorium lol. And it was with a hint of sorrow that they published this post, but sacrifices had to be made in order to ensure Abraham’s exacting. And Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson was a professional, after all. You see, in order to end the relationship of the detective inspector and the handsome ex-president, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson would have to get back into the gay loving business. He would have to seduce actual manimal Greg Lestrade and lead Abraham to walk in on them in the projection room above the auditorium. Although he feared it may put a strain on his relationship with Sherlock, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson knew that it was for the best and that their love could survive. He went and added to his previous post, tears falling softly: p.s. sherlock is perfect lol and no matter what i will always look at him in that way <3 Upon seeing this, Sherlock held his gay lover tighter and also began to cry emotionally. “I’ll always love you, John.”

“I’ll always love you too lol.”




Meanwhile, Abraham sat in his apartment, surfing the internet with one hand and polishing his candlestick with the other. He came across a specific blog post that caught his eye: candlestick polishing practice has been moved to the projection room above the auditorium lol. Well! He’d have to make note of this! You see, he had a polishing class every thursday at North Shore High School over on Detective Street.

Suddenly, an image from Abraham’s tormented past came into his mind. The candlesticks had triggered the memories. He remembered a fellow manimal in Sudan, a man they called on the streets the Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade. Abraham had been truly, irrevocably in love with the Actual Manimal.

Suddenly, speak of the manimal, there was a knock.

No one was there.

There was another knock!

No one was there.

There was a third knock!

It was Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade!

Everyone polished! Stunned that Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade had shown up on his doorstep and immediately joined him in polishing like a manic drug addict, Abe mixed Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade a Weeping Brett (he’d had to make a special trip with his handy eyedrops to procure the ingredients). Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade started to catch up with Abraham.

“How have you been, Abraham?” He asked.

“It’s a long story,” Abe explained. He hadn’t spoke in so long, but his voice wasn’t rusty. It had gotten lots of action, cackling maniacally and maliciously laughing. “What brings you to Top ‘O Mount Rushmore, Keystone, South Dakota?”

“I saw a blog post online about a candlestick polishing team and I thought it sounded like my kinda thing, so I immediately fled Sudan to come here,” Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade replied, sipping his Weeping Brett and wetting his polishing rag with fresh tears.

“Really? I’m in that club!” Abraham guzzled happily. “But unfortunately, I’ve been struggling to keep up my membership. Remember back in Sudan, when I used to travel around, mentioning my need for revenge on Jim Treliving and seeing who would bite?”

“Of course,” Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade chuckled fondly, recalling the pleasant memory immediately.

“Well, I got partial revenge on Jim. I finally killed him. But the other half of my revenge involves killing his granddaughter, and my sole great-niece, Renesmee Button. She lives downstairs in 221B. I’ve been trying so desperately to get her to enter the kitchen so I can kill her in the kitchen with a candlestick, but nothing seems to be working.” Abe disclosed.

“Hmm, I know that problem. I can help you, Abe, but on one condition.”

“Yes? Anything!” Abraham said excitedly.

“In our original candlestick polishing team back in Sudan, we all swore an oath that our candlesticks would be used only for good and not evil. So give up the candlestick as a weapon, and I’ll help you.”

Abraham was at a crossroads. He must kill her with a candlestick! But then again, he did swear an oath, and he desperately needed Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade’s help.

“I don’t know what to say, Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade. My candlestick has been my faithful partner through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, through good times and bad.”

“I know, Abe, I know. But it’s time to put the candlestick down. There are people who care about you, and all you do is perch and polish. It’s unhealthy. Please, Abe, put the candlestick down.”

And it was with great anger that Abraham threw the candlestick out the window towards the nearest billboard. “Til death do us part yeah death has does us part lol!” he cried, separating from his faithful partner for the first time since Jim Treliving’s death.

Chapter Text

Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson was sitting on his couch, contemplating how to seduce actual manimal Greg Lestrade, when suddenly an idea came to him. He began laughing maliciously and grabbed his sewing machine. After setting everything up, he went and grabbed his favourite fabric from the microwave. His fabric featured a candlestick pattern, with candlesticks of all different shapes and sizes posing in various positions. “Shiver me Hindus!” he cried, elated. He began to sew the fabric into an elegant ladies’ pantsuit, laughing maliciously as he pictured how good it would look on him. If this candlestick pantsuit doesn’t seduce actual manimal Greg Lestrade, then I don’t know what will.

When Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson finally finished the couture pantsuit, he stripped off his regular clothes and put it on, fastening the candlestick-shaped buttons. He then sprawled out seductively on the couch and waited for Sherlock to get home at 4am, in 8 hours (he was spending the night at the park with Renesmee).

When Sherlock got home and had tucked Renesmee in, he walked into the living room and was shocked to see his Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson lying seductively on the couch. “Oh, John!” he wailed, falling to his knees and crying softly. “I have deduced from the angle you sewed that pantsuit at that you intend to wear it to seduce actual manimal Greg Lestrade!” He couldn’t take his eyes off of the most beautiful and sophisticated pantsuit he’d ever seen. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson nodded, “It’s my battle dress.”

“Lucky boy...”




Meanwhile, Chazz lay drunk on the kitchen floor, Gleen’s precious laying abandoned beside him. He picked it up and crawled over to the counter, using the small, engraved candlestick to mix himself mean Moaning Robert after mean Moaning Robert. Noticing the billboards outside advertising Franz Ferdinand on tour, Chazz downed his drinks and passed out.




Henry J. Waternoose knocked at Sherlock’s door. Sherlock answered the door at 4am, in 8 hours. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Henry! Is everything okay? How is your cross-country journey going?”

“Just awful. I visited 49 states and relapsed 49 times!”

“Ah,” said Sherlock, unsurprised. “I suspected as much. I deduced from the angle you spun in limbo between Conway Twitty and Ellen Matthews in the early 1950s that you would relapse 49 times. Did u even try today?”

“Well, I was actually just here to ask about the whereabouts of widower Chazz Michael Jimmy Michaels. I have to apologize to him.” Upon hearing this, Sherlock began to laugh maliciously. “Indeed he is in the apartment above us, in room 221C Baker Street, Top O’ Mount Rushmore.”

“Great, thank you. I’ll be on my way.” Slamming the door gleefully, Sherlock began to laugh maliciously once again, thinking of the fact that any minute now, Chazz would mysteriously contract malaria and choose not to cure it, putting him one step closer to godparenthood. He pick up his cell phone to call Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson and inform him of the good news.



Chazz woke up to the sounds of an urgent knocking on his door. “Chazz, I’ve been knocking for 8 hours, since 4am!” In a drunken stupor, Chazz pulled himself off of the kitchen floor, knocking over a few mean Moaning Roberts. When he answered the door, he was surprised to see an octopus that he had never seen before.

“Have we even met?” Chazz asked rudely, the mean Moaning Roberts still in his system.

“Well, no, not formally,” the octopus said. “My name is Henry Jimmy Waternoose, but you can call me Henry J. I’m currently rehabilitating from a mean addiction to malaria. See, I was a malariaholic, and I worked part-time as a malaria hitman. When I was a hitman, Jim Treliving paid me to give malaria to your friend Jimmy. Yes, Chazz, I killed Jimmy, and I have something to say to you.”

“What?” Chazz chuckled fondly.

“I’m sorry.”

And that’s when the world came raining down in hellfire around Chazz. Henry J began to spasm while cackling maniacally and, an octopus possessed, pulled a female, malaria-infected mosquito out of his malaria toolkit and placed it on Chazz’s arm. Giggling with an utmost insanity, Henry J fled Baker Street.

Chazz felt the mosquito bite down on him. He could practically feel the malaria flowing through his tainted veins, mingling with the Moaning Roberts. Chazz, unfortunately, chose not to cure it and knew that he would die in 2-6 weeks. He passed out again, noticing his newly-enlarged spleen.

And meanwhile, a handsome notoriously gay consulting detective could be heard cheering in tune to the cheers of a handsome ex-president, both thrilled at Chazz’s oncoming demise.




Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson lay in bed, their newly-sewn candlestick pajamas keeping them warm. Renesmee and the Ginny had refused the candlestick fabric; they, instead, had opted for a more practical Best Buy logo design sewn onto the chest of their well-bred pajamas. The two detectives were snuggling into each other, enjoying the company and basking in the warmth of the other’s embrace. Suddenly struck with inspiration, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson pulled his laptop out of his file holder and composed a new blog post on his personal blog: best buy is the best place to steal headphones lol. so glad gleen is gone lol <3

And as he drifted off to sleep in Sherlock’s arms, he could hear a distant scream, “MOM. Come back! Barbie is bullying me via a flag in the Princess and the Pauper CD Rom!” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson laughed maliciously, happy at his work from earlier that day.

But tomorrow, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson would face a more difficult task than cyberbullying Gleen. He would have to seduce Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade in order to pull him away from Abraham and bring Abraham to the ground.

The thought of Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson seducing Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade made Sherlock very uncomfortable, and he began to harbour a jealous rage. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson’s masculine hands touching anyone else, but he knew that he had to put up with it if they wanted their plan to work. If sacrificing Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson was the only way to become godparents, then Sherlock would deal with his jealousy.




Meanwhile, far far away in Alberta, Canada, a young boy named Gleen was on the hunt for his birth father. He hadn’t been able to find him anywhere lol. Finally, Gleen decided to wander into a pub and ask the owner where he might find his birth father. Gleen walked inside, went up to the bar, ordered a Moaning Robert, and chatted up the bartender.

“Do you know where I might find my birth father lol and do u like me?” The bartender smiled.

“Due to your Gollum-like qualities and accusatory lifestyle, I think you might find him over in Middle Earth. It’s this area in Alberta, not too far away, you just have to travel a little farther northwest.”

“Lol, okay, thanks,” Gleen said, finally, he accused some random of cyberbullying him and then fled the pub. Gleen travelled northwest until he reached the gates to a small town called ‘Middle Earth, Alberta’. He opened the gates and stepped inside. He wasn’t sure what part of Middle Earth this was, but it had rolling green hills and meandering streams. Comfortable holes were dug out in the sides of the hills, and little people wandered around. In the distance he could see a man who looked strangely familiar to Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson.

Feeling comforted by this familiarity, Gleen walked up to the man and asked him, “Do you know where I am lol and are you cyberbullying me?”

“Of course! You’re in Bag End in the Shire. Judging by your Gollum-like qualities and accusatory lifestyle, I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for in Bag End.”

“Oh okay thanks lol what’s your name.”

“My name is Bilbo Jimmy Baggins. Would you like to come into my hobbit-hole? I’m not expecting company or anything,” he asked seductively.

“Lol I’d love to Bilbo lol! Where’s your hobbit-hole?” Bilbo smiled a half-smile that crept up his face, and lowered his eyebrows ominously.

“My hobbit-hole happens to be on the most prestigious street in Bag End, i.e. Bagshot Row. Now come with me and I’ll get you some food and stuff lol.” Bilbo had already started to talk like Gleen! Wow, what an impressionable people lol.

Gleen followed Bilbo into his huge hobbit-hole. Gleen loved the hobbit-hole, and being inside it, but Bilbo looked a little uncomfortable.

“What’s up lol?”

“I don’t have many visitors lol,” Bilbo chuckled fondly, “and I forgot to clean up my sewing machine.” Bilbo hastily hid a sewing machine and a half-finished elegant ladies pantsuit in the pantry. They sat down at the table, and Bilbo began to cook dinner, when there was a knock.

No one was there.

There was another knock.

No one was there! Lol.

There was a THIRD knock!

It was a dwarf. Everyone gasped.

Chapter Text

Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson smiled into the mirror seductively as he watched Sherlock fasten the candlestick buttons on his sophisticated pantsuit. “You look absolutely amazing!” Sherlock crooned. “That is the most elegant, and the most sophisticated pantsuit I’ve ever seen!” Sherlock crooned. “If that pantsuit doesn’t seduce Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade, I don’t know what will!” When Sherlock finished fastening the buttons, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson kissed him goodbye and headed out to find Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson predicted that Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade would be at the Dragons’ Denny’s at 4 a.m. in 8 hours. He stood outside the hidden entrance to the chic establishment, writing some new songs for his upcoming Dr. Gaylove comeback tour. At 4 a.m. Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade showed up, as predicted. Upon seeing the candlestick pantsuit, his jaw dropped. “That is the most elegant, and the most sophisticated pantsuit I’ve ever seen! May I take you out for dinner?” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson started laughing maliciously at the success of his plan. “Of course!” he took Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade’s hand and the two men walked into the Dragons’ Denny’s. They found a booth and sat down. A kind, energetic ginger server approached the booth. “My name is Peter and I’ll be your server today. Now today our special will be 3 meatballs and if you look on your menus, you’ll see that we have a short stack of succulent pancakes as well.” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson ordered 6 meatballs for them to share, and 2 spilled java beans. “You look... elegant and sophisticated.” Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade praised. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson could see the seduction in his eyes. “How are things with Abraham?” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson asked, barely hiding his contempt for the 16th president. “Things have been going great! Just yesterday, I got him to give up his candlestick! I told him that if he couldn’t use it for good, he shouldn’t use it all, and he promptly threw it out the window at the nearest billboard.” “That is amazing!” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson screamed, laughing maliciously with tears rolling down his cheeks. Just then, as they finished their meal, Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade leaned in close to Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson and whispered, “I see the want to in your eyes. Do you wanna come back to my place?” “Do I ever!” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson screamed as the two boys ran towards Detective Street. Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade led Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson into his flat, 221A Detective Street, Top O’ Mount Rushmore.The flat was plastered with candlestick wallpaper. Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade led him into the bedroom and they started to mate.

Then, there was a knock!

Someone was there! It was Sherlock, standing in front of the Ginny and looking absolutely enraged. “Even though I expected to see you here John, I didn’t think you would actually go through with this heinous plan. I thought you loved me!” Sherlock fell to the floor in tears as Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson tried to untangle himself from Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade. he then ran over to Sherlock and threw his arms around him, trying to calm him down. Sherlock fought him off and rolled under the nearest table. “I’m not coming out from under this table until Greg leaves.” Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson looked back and forth between Sherlock and Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade before saying, “Greg, I have to be Sherlock’s shoulder to cry on.” Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade was dumbfounded. This was not what he was expecting when he went there that night. And like a startled woodland creature, Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade fled his apartment. As soon as he was gone, Sherlock wiped his eyes on a nearby tablecloth, rolling out from under the table and into his lover’s arms. “I’m so sorry, John. I forgive you.” Gleefully, Sherlock whipped out a chalkboard and an accompanying piece of chartreuse chalk and fitfully crossed out ‘Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade’. Smiling knowingly, Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson took the chalk from Sherlock and looked him dead in the eyes as he crossed out ‘technically well-polished candlestick’. Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson and Sherlock jeered loudly in 221A Detective Street, Top O’ Mount Rushmore. Abraham, meanwhile, watched Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade from the window as he fled, sobbing hysterically.




Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade ran through the streets of South Dakota, refusing to let his tears fall. He wove through intersections and alleyways, making his way to the nearest airport. When he arrived, he got in the ticket sales line and demanded a ticket for the soonest flight to Tuscany.

“Sir, the next flight leaves at 4a.m., in 8 hours lol.”

“I’ll take it!” Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade practically screamed. As the ticket salesperson procured a ticket, Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade let a growl escape, feeling his manimalistic urges returning. He took the ticket and put it in his teeth, getting down on all fours. He crawled across a row of seats, and perched on the edge of his chair, waiting the 8 hours for his flight.



Back in 221A Detective Street, Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson were laughing maliciously, the Ginny standing confused behind them. The Ginny, fed up with the detectives’ schemes, turned and left for Wyoming, stopping at Baker Street to grab her trunk and say goodbye to Renesmee. Now alone in Actual Manimal Greg Lestrade’s abandoned apartment, Sherlock and Gay Lover Dr. John H. Watson kissed goodnight and settled down under the table for a long South Dakotan sleep.