Sherlock Holmes looked at his previous works. Some of them were fine, some of them were bad, some of them were incomplete. He looked over at his assistant, Watson. "Watson, what did I do last night?", the detective mused. Watson stared at him blankly, and said nothing.



It was at this moment that Holmes realized that Watson was none other than a bust, and that the real Watson was likely off somewhere doing something of most importance. "Another mystery solved", Holmes muttered. Peeling himself off of his favorite chair, he looked at the smallest work of them all. A casual version of himself - a contradiciton to everything that this world held true - peered at him under the stern gaze of what is called Holmes.



Stretching, Sherlock began to rework this small piece into what is before you now. A larger, much cleaner, and more complete work that disobeys the laws of physics (specifically, the law of energy where Energy cannot be created, nor destroyed - as this piece drew energy from absolutely nowhere to complete it). After the final touches (as the great detective was not a great artist), Sherlock turned and announced to the world:



"I have finished my (fifth) greatest work yet! Let us now take part in the chant of our great nation, Japanifornia!"



Fuck off, Verin.



- Extract from the Destroyed Cases of Sherlock Holmes. Investigations have currently gone into the identity of this "Verin" character, but all information has led us to the conclusion that he never fucked off.