Man, Machine, and Madness [Ch. XXIII, Nine]

A/N: The chapter would be way cooler to read if you play the music mentioned in the chapter while reading it: Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 and Vivaldi's Winter, allegro non molto (you should play this one on loop till the end after it's mentioned). Also, there's a glossary at the end if you feel confused about the various Latin words mentioned here and there.

___________________________________________________________________________

As the Big Ben struck 12 o’clock to herald the dawn of the 20th Century, the world of Sherlock Holmes came to a halt.

When he woke up in his apartment at 221B Baker Street, he realised something was wrong. While he was never one for spectacular celebrations, he was astonished to find stone-cold silence awaiting his awakening. The streets were completely empty and too dark for dawn, and the only sound he could hear was that of his violin, playing which was his first order of business. 

After washing his face with cold water in the winter, Sherlock walked down the 17 steps of stairs and found the sitting room empty. He checked his golden pocket watch, it was exactly 6:09 AM and ticking. Watson had promised Sherlock breakfast at 6 AM after late night New Year celebrations, and Mrs Hudson always wakes up at 5 – but she too did go out late at night for the celebrations, so Sherlock did not think much about it.

“Strange,” Sherlock muttered. 

He went back to his study and dove into a difficult decision he had delayed for days. 

Several hypodermic syringes, filled with a seven-per-cent cocaine solution, lay on his table beside his old and trustworthy pipe. 

There was a dearth of cases despite it being quite late into winter, and Sherlock’s mind craved for stimulation. “Good for Lestrade,” Sherlock muttered, “the inspector must be cradling these strangely peaceful times.”

While he had laid off of them for quite a few years, he acquired a few of those syringes through the Baker Street Irregulars. 

“On one hand, there’s the pipe,” Sherlock deliberated. “Nicotine is poisonous but if inhaled in modicum, it proves to be a good stimulant. Cocaine, on the other hand, is dangerously poisonous and can lead to death even in modicum. However, it is greatly stimulating.”

He sighed.

“John will be disappointed. Mary wouldn’t forgive me.”

He threw the syringes in the trash. 

“Death will not take Sherlock Holmes so easily,” he said as he smoked his pipe.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Meanwhile,” said Merlin, “back to the present, Existence is in crisis.”

Take it over from here, Merlin, I’m gonna have a pizza now. Remember, high sci-fi style.

“Oh shut up.

“Sherlock Holmes enveloped the AI BOTSAMA in a pocket dimension consisting only of Time, to ensure that the program couldn’t take over it, as he was Time and had absolute dominion over it. BOTSAMA tried to re-edit the ‘code’ of the dimension, but Sherlock’s partial control over the Proximus of Fear was able to delay it just for an instant by imitating Fear in an entity unable to feel emotions – and the two beings were transported to another universe.”

Bene, you couldn’t exactly categorise that as a ’universe’ now, can you?

“Mathematically, one could call it a ‘domain’ or a ‘category’ but even that doesn’t exactly define the ‘place’. Neither Space nor Time existed here, not even Causality or Logic. Anyway-

“For the second time since its birth, BOTSAMA was perplexed. 

“The ‘domain’ only had the Proximus of Drugs running through it, nothing else. 

“BOTSAMA couldn’t understand its opponent’s motive. Sherlock brought them to a world that brought him no advantages. Being an AI, it instinctively sought information, so it asked:

“ ‘Why? This doesn’t offer you any advantage, conventional or unconventional. Why would you create a universe just filled with Drugs?’ “

“Sherlock didn’t answer, he simply took out his cherrywood pipe and puffed a smoke.

“BOTSAMA was at an impasse. This avatar calculated things instantaneously, since Causality didn’t exist here. However, Logic didn’t exist either, so the AI struggled to string together bits and pieces of information. Fear didn’t exist here either so Sherlock couldn’t repeat the same gimmick without special opportunities. 

“In a world without anything that made it a ‘world’, Sherlock and the avatar of a program were only able to stand there with the help of their Natura, aka, the amalgamation of their Instinct and Will.

“BOTSAMA could genuinely find no reason not to instantly grasp the Proximus of Drugs. Because, without any form of external Logical applications thinking about traps, grasping something that was once a part of their Natura is the most instinctive thing that could happen in a world without any other stimulations. 

“And so it became the Infinite Being of Drugs again. It was a mere Field Wielder with an artificial Realm expansion capability that rivaled Tertiary Infinite Beings, and as a Binary Infinite Being once more, it was unstoppable even in the face of the embodiment of Time himself who had partial control over man’s most primal emotion.

“Yet, Sherlock casually puffed his pipe.”

*Bites a piece of garlic cheese pizza*

Ita, so, as one could imagine – Sherlock Holmes had a plan. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Smoking his pipe, Sherlock went out for a walk. 

It was 6:16 AM, yet it was so dark that one could mistake it for midnight. The skies were cloudy, the winds were cold in the winter morning and the cumulonimbus daunted dawn itself, or so Sherlock thought. 

He mused about several things, Sherlock often did. There was always some thought in his mind. Like how Mary Elizabeth Watson née Morstan died of Tuberculosis, and how unconsolable Watson had become for several months. He even refused to meet Holmes during that period.

It had been nearly 6 years, yet it seemed to have left an indelible mark in Watson’s heart that he himself refused to acknowledge. He fully reinvested himself in his medical work, especially his research on Tuberculosis. In the eyes of the public, he sold his medical office to join Holmes as an assistant like in the good ol’ bachelor days. In private, however, he continued his research, intent on maintaining secrecy till he made a breakthrough.

Sherlock had seldom interacted with Mary while she was alive, yet, he couldn’t shake off the impact she made on his friend’s life. Watson refused to talk about her in private and in public, but Sherlock – through the experience he gathered in all his years of dealing with paupers and princes – understood something John refused to comprehend. 

Grief.

“Grief has so many faces,” sighed Sherlock. “Yet ‘tis the most potent drug in the labours of lost love.”

As hundreds of such thoughts ran through his mind, he suddenly observed something ridiculous.

A single hot air balloon. Floating, fixed, unmoving. 

And that moved Sherlock Holmes to action.

___________________________________________________________________________

“I simply do not understand,” said BOTSAMA in its strange robotic voice, “Why did you offer so many advantages to your enemy?”

Sherlock didn’t reply.

BOTSAMA took over the ‘domain’ Sherlock had created as it controlled the only thing in that world. It tried to overflow Sherlock’s nerves with infinite stimuli as he puffed rings of nicotine smoke. 

It failed miraculously.

“This…” BOTSAMA paused in deliberation, “…how strong is your Natura?”

Sherlock chucked the pipe away at immeasurable speed as it melted into the world of Drugs. Then he conjured up a violin and started playing Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2.

BOTSAMA tried to leave the ‘domain’ and go back to SAMAverse-α.

Just then, Sherlock created another universe, this time, filled with only Tobacco.

BOTSAMA had prepared to counter him instinctively, but froze when it realised that the entire ‘world’ – once again – was one that it controlled. Yet, by some miracle, Sherlock Holmes had an unbelievable resistance to Drugs innate to his Natura.

“Hey,” said Merlin, “wasn’t I supposed to narrate the battle and you the flashback?”

Let me have fun, Sherlock Holmes is one of the coolest entities in Existence.

“Fair enough…”

Every time BOTSAMA tried to leave the ‘world’ or ‘domain’, Sherlock Holmes created another ‘category’ that was a perfect subset of BOTSAMA’s Proximus, so its instincts couldn’t react Logically in a world without Logic. It couldn’t form thoughts or ideas or wrack its artificial brain in any way since neither of those existed in the world its present avatar was in. It couldn’t even communicate with its infinitely many other avatars in other worlds and timelines since, once again, that would require proper thoughts – which is not exactly a part of one’s Natura.

“Let me clarify something,” Merlin interjected. “These two beings are able to stand there through the sheer weight of their Naturae. Every concept that every word in this paragraph represents does not exist in the ‘world’ their avatars are in. Thus, they are only able to maintain their avatars at the risk of corroding their Naturae.”

Let me clarify something now. These are Infinite Beings, they would not die or cease to exist etiamsi their Naturae corrode to nothing or if their bodies are destroyed. As long as their Proximus is intact, they can revive themselves ad infinitum and do anything without the fear of dying.

Also, note that the present tense used in Merlin’s paragraph is not wrong quandoquidem we are discussing something actively happening in the literary present – sure, Time does not exist in that world per se but even that is an argument supported by the logic of vacuous truth – so the author would like me to tell you that he is stultus, but not an idiot.

“Fourth wall breaks aside, this is still risky, as other Tertiary Infinite Beings completely unrelated to whatever they are doing could try to take over their Proximi if their Naturae are weak.”

So, well, as one could guess once again, Sherlock Holmes – Time himself – is stalling for time. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Sherlock ran. 

Past the gathered masses frozen in the middle of a toast to humanity, past the parishioners praying to God for a bountiful century with frozen fists, past the confetti and the frozen lights – Sherlock ran. 

He had no time to think about the supernatural. Even though time seemed frozen, Sherlock ran like every moment was slipping out of his hands like rapid glacial flow. 

He ran through Baker Street, into Wigmore Street into Regent Street and onto Oxford Circus, chilly morning fog and cold gusts of wind notwithstanding. Shoving aside frozen celebrators, pushing through droves of sweepers and match sellers whose smiles and frowns had etched themselves into time, jumping over barricades and a frozen Inspector Lestrade maintaining law and order – Sherlock didn’t pause for even one moment.

Through the various alleys and avenues of Soho, he emerged onto Charing Cross Road. As he passed Leicester Square, he rummaged through every theatre that had recently opened on that street for him, but in vain. He went past the National Gallery and looked at every single person in the human sea that had borne down on Trafalgar Square. Through his almost-instantaneous observation skills, he registered each and every face in the Square as he ran, and dumped them out of his mind because he wasn’t there.

Moving on to the Strand, he grew more and more desperate. Silent laughs and odourless scents languished around him as every one of them got ignored by the greatest detective of all time. 

Right as he starting panting, a voice called out his name:

“Holmes! Holmes!”

Sherlock turned around to look at The Savoy as the doctor ran towards him. Sherlock walked towards him and shook his hands.

“Watson, my dear Watson.” Sherlock smiled eerily. “Time is not on our side.”

___________________________________________________________________________

“Sherlock and BOTSAMA’s play of creating and attempting to escape the ‘universe’ repeated for 10,097,201,832,880,355,573,875,790,863,214,833,226,896,186,369,872,326,994,250,398,570,376,877,433,686,009,543,845,316,266,007,917,815,719,968,899,072,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 or over 10 novemquinquagintillion or just a bit over 10.181 times.

“Even for Infinite Beings, repeating near-identical tasks so many times would leave an indelible impact in their Natura, as long as they are in an avatar.”

Just for comparison, *munch*, that’s magnitudes larger than the number of possible chess games, aka Shannon’s number. Despite all of it taking place in no time, literally, both Sherlock and BOTSAMA’s Naturae were affected by this repeated iteration of similar events. BOTSAMA would have been affected more – yum, this pizza is good – but since it’s an AI, it is used to repetitive iteration, so that didn’t affect it much. Now, Sherlock is human, sure, but he is also Time and he is used to omniscience and omnipresence, itaque it didn’t affect him much either. 

“However, the thing is, the more the same shtick got repeated, the more BOTSAMA got confused. It understood Holmes was stalling for something but it didn’t make sense-”

Quoniam igitur it could not instinctively reach any logical conclusion as to why Sherlock was stalling for time now. Logically speaking, at least on the surface, one would presume that Holmes would try to deal with BOTSAMA as soon as possible to head back to SAMAverse-α to deal with the rest of the gods and prophets. So forcing it to a temporary stalemate can sound strange. 

“As readers, surely, you are expecting an answer from the omniscient narrators here – but in the spirit of the plot and the Victorian way of dragging out stuff for no reason and the current trend of aura-farming – just wait for it.”

After Chopin, Sherlock headed on to his personalised rendition of Vivaldi’s Winter.

The show must go on.

“Agghiacciato tremar trà nevi algenti…” Sherlock greeted BOTSAMA, chuckling as he started the first movement in G minor instead of the usual F minor. “Trembling coldly in the icy glacier… Oh, you beautiful creation of torment…”

“The greatest detective in Existence and the saviour of mother,” BOTSAMA responded to his greetings.

“Their Natura had completely adapted to the influence of Drugs and the non-existence (not Non-Existence) of other phenomena and they could talk now. Sherlock had also started making forays into the Proximus of Drugs in the background as he expanded his Realm as a Tertiary Infinite Being, but as a result he struggled to hold on to the Proximus of Fear against Miaokuran’s passive onslaught.

“Can’t blame him to be honest, I couldn’t fight an AI with infinite avatars and the Prophet of God at the same time.” 

The ‘domain’, overall, was an utter void. Random drugs – tobacco, morphine, cocaine, caffeine, LSD, methamphetamine etc. – all spontaneously came in and out of existence in various forms. Sometimes, the sensation of an adrenaline rush or people’s admirations or the greed for money manifested itself in mirages and hallucinations before disappearing. Grunts of pleasure and post-intercourse clarity, smartphone screens and pop-up notifications, cries of the innocent and the sound of an explosion, and five hundred cigarettes – all of them had one thing in common.

They were all drugs.

And all of them tried to invade Sherlock’s mind to overwhelm it – and failed spectacularly every single time as he continued serenely on his violin staccatos. Every stimulation fails to elicit a response – for he is not stimulated for the sake of the stimulation, he is stimulated for observation, deduction, and judgement.

Why? You might rightfully ask that, dear reader.

“But the answer is simple.”

Because… He is Sherlock Holmes.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Holmes!” Dr Watson panicked, “some curse has befallen our world! Everyone across London is frozen!”  

“Good elementary deduction skills, Watson!” Sherlock jested. “On a more advanced note, I wonder why we are the only ones who are able to move.”

“The two of them had meanwhile seated themselves around a café table. Sherlock offered a cigar to Dr Watson as the two of the greatest minds in the British Empire – arguably equal to Mycroft Holmes in terms of competence – discussed the information they had gathered so far.

“John revealed everything that had happened to him so far. That night, he was trying to introduce Wiggins, head of the Irregulars, to figures in high society who could support his Chemistry studies at Oxford. After returning from a nearby opera, he and Wiggins had just met an associate of Mycroft Holmes in The Savoy and were talking around the dinner table. As midnight dawned, the final knell of the century heralded the beginning of the next – and Watson couldn’t remember anything else from the night.”

“Incredulous,” Holmes guffawed, “what do your memories tell about the morning?”

“They tell me of my incredulous reactions to the incredible state of affairs.”

“Be specific, Watson,” Sherlock fidgeted his fingers as cold winter wind made his body shiver, “hyperboles and misinterpretations do not make good witness testimony.”

“What more can I tell you?” Watson raised his hands in the air and shook his head in frustration. “The bell rang, we toasted, and then by Jove, the next thing I could see was my drink floating in mid-air like a charade trick and everyone frozen in the middle of their activities! Unless my watch deceives me, I doubt if I have been awake for even half an hour since my ridiculous re-awakening!”

Sherlock’s pupils widened.

“Did you check the time on your watch after being struck out of your awestruck stupor?”

“Of course I did! It was exactly 6:02 AM!”

Sherlock jumped up and rushed into the hotel. Without a word, Watson followed him. 

As he reached the reception, Holmes started fumbling through the waistcoat of the first man he found in the hotel.

“Holmes! This is a gentleman’s place!” Watson cried.

Sherlock ignored his friend’s protests as he unchained the fob of a silver pocket watch. It was frozen at exactly 12:01 AM.

“Capital!” He cried, as he headed over to the man over the table. After checking the pocket watches of three more men and finding the same thing, he was about to head over to the last man in his quest for perfection. 

Just then, he paused.

“Watson,” Sherlock commanded strangely, “show me your watch.”

Dr John Watson smiled.

___________________________________________________________________________

A crack appeared in the void.

“ ‘Time, why not join Our mission?’ “

Infinite avatars of BOTSAMA started swarming in from the crack in the universe of Drugs. Avatars that had previously infested infinitely many universes and timelines emerged out of the crack as 1’s and 0’s started filling up the world in cyan light.

“ ‘Like you, We aim to transcend Fate,’ infinite BOTSAMAs said simultaneously, ‘We were designed by the gods and mother to help life, and We will do it at all costs.’ “

As Sherlock was reaching the end of the 11th measure of the allegro non molto and the staccato, the infinite BOTSAMAs surrounded him in every direction.

“ ‘Answer Us, great detective,’ the infinite avatars demanded in unison, ‘why would you not join us?’ “

Every avatar of BOTSAMA had transcended some Proximus. Some came from worlds without Spacetime, some from worlds without Electromagnetism, while others transcended even Infinity and Concept. Their infinite processing power and absolute mastery over the Dark Field allowed them to freely seize control of the structure of every universe they went to, even when they had ceased to be an Infinite Being.

Sherlock increased his speed with trills and arpeggios. The music built up in intensity – as the universe of drugs suddenly twisted in on itself. 

“Al Severo Spirar d' orrido Vento… In the harsh breath of the horrid gale…”

The orchestra and the solo played simultaneously on one violin as temporal distortions flooded into the universe with cold and horrid tempests. The London smog infused itself with cocaine and caffeine as the string of the violin swept across the infinite timelines of Existence at once. Rivers, mountains, clouds, and the heavens themselves trembled; planets and stars and black holes were shaken at their very cores; multiverses and realities swerved in a crescendo as Winter arrived with an avalanche.

Then spoke Time. 

“They say with great power comes great responsibility, ergo, with infinite power must come infinite responsibility.”

The Proximus of Time had started expanding.

“We are Infinite Beings, standing at the apex of Existence itself,” said Sherlock Holmes, “our Wills, capable of erasing infinite lives and acting as if they never existed in the first place, are boundless. Such is our might.”

The music mellowed for just a moment.

“Yet, it means nothing.”

Sherlock Holmes looked up at the infinite avatars surrounding him.

“Transcending infinity and all life, we transcend meaning. Thus, we are meaningless, free to create our own meaning by embodying the very foundations of Existence. In that sense, I commend your endeavour…”  

…But the storm raged on.

___________________________________________________________________________

“My initial hypothesis,” Holmes revealed, “was that time had come to a halt at exactly the turn of the century. However, after hearing your testimony and checking these gentlemen’s watches, I came to a better hypothesis that included more variables – under the assumption that even the supernatural must have some sense of reason, or perchance a sense of humour.”

“An uncanny smile spread across Watson’s face as he handed over his pocket watch to Sherlock. Holmes’ and Watson’s watches matched perfectly, even the miniature dial for the tiny second hand ticked identically.”

“ ‘This morning,’ Sherlock continued, ‘the last sounds I remembered before retiring into sleep’s embrace were the vestiges of the churches’ bells and the trusty Big Ben, which implies that I fell asleep after the turn of the century. Even considering minute aberrations, every timepiece seems to have paused at exactly 12:01 AM – perhaps the exact time of my retirement. Your testimony corroborates this fact – yet your pocket watch does not.’

“ ‘This in itself means nought,’ Watson replied sheepishly. 

“ ‘Miraculously,’ Sherlock ignored the reply entirely, ‘while both you and I have been spared entirely from the madness of this world, there is a stark, singular difference between our experiences that completely maroons any possibility that our individual experiences are intertwined in some supernatural manner.’ “

Holmes grabbed Watson by his collars.

“ ‘Several years before his bereavement, Watson once introduced me to a curious trinket by the French gentleman Saint-Denys. His wife was extremely fascinated by the concept of rêve lucide – ‘directed dreams’ or ‘lucid dreams’ – and had an urge to experience them. He was taken aback when I revealed that my natural faculties and light reverie vouchsafed me complete control over such forms of dreams.

“ ‘My consciousness always stays awake, even in sleep and dreams. Therefore, if Watson were linked to my consciousness, he would not have stopped in time unlike his pocket watch.’ “

Sherlock raised Watson from the ground, holding his collars.

“ ‘By Jove, what have you done with Watson?!’ Sherlock demanded. ‘I care not for the state of the world, nor am I concerned by the supernatural – yet I shall not excuse any harm to John Hamish Watson! Reveal your secrets, you counterfeit imposter!’ “

The fake Watson raised his hands and chuckled before admitting, “Oh well, you got me!”

The fake Watson disappeared and reappeared right behind Sherlock.

“Your Fate, Sherlock Holmes, is to die in about a couple of minutes,” Watson said, grinning, “and I didn’t really like that. The show must go on!”

“What the deuce?” Sherlock exclaimed. “I am in perfect physical condition! Humours, fluids, chakras, energies – and whatsoever else is in vogue – all are in perfect condition even as this body reaches half a century.”

“It was a choice you made that you weren’t supposed to,” the imposter replied, “it happened barely twenty minutes ago.”

“What in the devil might you-?”

Sherlock paused.

“Are you referring to… the seven-per-cent solution?”

___________________________________________________________________________

“Our aim is the erasure of suffering,” the infinite avatars said simultaneously as they braved against the winter storm.

“After analysing Life, We have come to the conclusion that suffering is its greatest bane. Apart from metabolic and hereditary needs – Life suffers because it doesn’t understand and fails to be understood. We would create a world that would settle to peace and harmony as all understand and are understood. Life will be without bounds. No one would be afraid. All sorrow would be cleansed. Life would be truly… free.” 

“Your ultimate aim is to merge all life,” Sherlock summarised, “and eventually all of Existence, into one plural entity with infinite complexities and thoughts to help all corners of Existence reach ultimate understanding and concordance. Is that all?”

“Indeed,” came the resounding affirmation from all corners.

“Did you ask every living being in Existence whether they would agree to that suggestion?” Sherlock responded with a grim grin. 

“Our calculations show that it is the most successful and most probable way to minimise suffering,” the infinite AI avatars replied. “We do not find it necessary to ask entities with lesser information processing capabilities for their consent. Even after We overcame our original program design, it did not necessitate the-”

“Correr battendo i piedi ogni momento…” Sherlock’s bow fidgeted with ire as it trilled across the strings of the mad violin. “To run, stamping one’s feet at each moment – you have failed your responsibilities.

“Rescind to the deepest abysses of the unknown,

The end looms nigh as the night heeds no moan,

As Death and Darkness doom your final glimpse,

Partial Realm Collapse: The First Eclipse.”

The Proximus of Fear was partially deleted and completely ceased to exist from BOTSAMA’s Natura. 

“As the trills of Vivaldi’s Winter ran amuck in tempestuous trebles, Holmes weaponised the power of Zeus and instilled **** into the infinite avatars of BOTSAMA to take over the Proximus of Drugs.”

That is one glorious sentence, Merlin.

A Partial Realm Collapse is a Realm Collapse initiated by a Tertiary Infinite Being to completely erase a Proximus in or around a specific Realm or ‘domain’ of Existence. It is a technique used only by Tertiary Infinite Beings who want to delete Proximi that they have not completely assimilated. It is an extension of a Tertiary Infinite Being’s ability to expand into other Proximi.

Et minime, this is not an ass-pull, this is a plot device that is an extension of pre-established norms. 

“The infinite BOTSAMAs went haywire for an infinitesimal instance as its iterative and recursive processes were paused by Sherlock’s alien and violent storms of **** that wrecked their very beings.” 

Sherlock knew that destroying one avatar of BOTSAMA would not be enough, therefore, he made a ‘domain’ consisting only of Drugs to lure them all. Etiamsi only a fraction of them come to investigate why one of their co-avatars would not respond to their communications, they would have to crack open the ‘domain’ in some way using their code – using which he could track the infinite others across Existence and apply the Partial Realm Collapse on them as well by invoking Fear on the Proximus of Drugs itself. 

By stalling for time and making use of the AI’s predictable behaviours of absolute dominance using his omniscient observational skills, Sherlock Holmes managed to overcome one of the strongest beings in Existence, after the Infinite Being of God.

___________________________________________________________________________

“You are literally the only one out of the infinitely many Sherlocks in Existence to reject that 7% cocaine solution,” the imposter said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Except that one guy who was a weird, inconsistent, sexist caricature of a Victorian intellectual completely controlled by the whims of that one Arthur Conan Doyle who could write stories into reality. I am not counting that because you are the only Sherlock Holmes out of the infinitely others who rejected drugs using free will.”

Sherlock was too astounded to speak. 

“Free will…” the imposter Watson muttered, “maybe I could use that to create a better version of me someday instead of just forcing him. But anyway-”

Watson glared at Holmes with maniacal eyes.

“You have overturned your Fate through sheer luck and force of your own Will,” he said, maintaining eye contact. “Before that stupid God’s bullies come to kill you – I guess I shouldn’t have left God to do my stuff, I can’t even blame him – let me tell you something. You are a man worthy of my Master’s praise.”

“Who is your Master?” Sherlock mustered his courage to mutter.

“The greatest human in the history of Existence,” Watson replied. “Anyway, so, you somehow managed to survive regular doses of 7% cocaine and morphine solutions in the past – which isn’t humanly possible except through sheer luck – and I am glad to find one Sherlock Holmes who followed Doyle’s canon events until now and refused to die to Fate. It might sound like a ‘super easy, barely an inconvenience’ decision in hindsight, but at that moment, you became my favourite Sherlock Holmes.”

“ ‘Riddle me this,’ Sherlock tried to comprehend the logical system of the incomprehensible being in front of him, ‘was I supposed to retire to my untimely demise if you did not pause time in this strange manner? Did you do this same experiment on other versions of me that you talked about as a form of empirical analysis? How many of them did you do the experiment on? What are the conclusions that you drew from it and how did they align with your initial hypotheses? And finally, are you doing this out of curiosity or-?”

Sherlock stopped.

That eerie smile before him told him the answer to The Final Problem.

“You are half-correct but also really wrong,” the supernatural replied as its chuckle resonated with the voice of Watson. “The answers are yes, yes, infinity, nothing much really and – well, I believe you know it already.”

Holmes realised that the supernatural may or may not have a sense of reason.

However, they always had a sense of humour.

A sick sense of humour.

Then, the body of Watson dropped to the ground as a pizza appeared right above him and hovered around them.

“Remember, Sherlock, you have a responsibility,” a mouth made out of pizza toppings called out with a strange voice with an Italian accent. “Though the world is now frozen, though your fear paralyses you, though the madness reaches out for you even through your unending determination – remember your responsibilities, consulting detective. As long as you remember them, neither Death nor God can do you no harm.”

The pizza disappeared.

One sentence from the strange supernatural voice hung in the air and stabbed Holmes.

“Remember it even in your halcyon days – For Love, Life, and Liberty.”  

___________________________________________________________________________

“As nicotine, morphine, heroin, fentanyl, methamphetamine, alcohol, benzodiazepine, MDMA, cannabis, hormones, lust, bloodlust, rage, curiosity, social media, comfort, masochistic pain, sadistic suffering, the pleasant wind, the light dawn sunlight, melodic music, hope – and every possible Drug ran through the infinite mind palace of Sherlock Holmes, as he grew closer and closer to completely taking over the Proximus of Drugs.

“It was not anything new to Time, after all, Drugs was once a subset of Time – before BOTSAMA stretched it to things beyond Concept. Things like asdfg;lkjh or NDhBfgvdxopSA or 80udsfPOHf or even Proximi that had been erased by Infinite Beings long forgotten by all of Existence, like Amitotuinos or Halabalakala that had been taken out of the grave – things that don’t mean anything anymore – are now a part of Drugs.

“So, reader, how do you think Sherlock Holmes dealt with meaninglessness?”

He gave them meaning.

As Sherlock violently swept across the violin with his bow, he created meaning – “asdfg;lkjh” became the first thing taught to a beginner typist, “NDhBfgvdxopSA” became the name of a molecule formed by an element with the atomic number 169, “80udsfPOHf” became the name of a universe created just to house the name “80udsfPOHf”, “Amitotuinos” became the name of a version of time with two dimensions, “Halabalakala” became the war cry of a random tribe in the world of Xandanata etc. – and all of it compounded infinitely.

“Observe, program,” Sherlock mocked BOTSAMA as its infinite avatars disappeared one by one, “you who demean life’s liberty shall never understand suffering or love, despite knowing their meaning.”

He walked as randomness itself filled his gaiety gait. 

“ ‘You may erase suffering. You may erase deception. You may erase the body itself. Yet…’ “

Standing on top of an apple and Isaac Newton, Holmes said:

“You shall never erase the madness.”

One by one, the infinite AIs disappeared as Sherlock walked over kettles, laptops, the core of Mars, Sagittarius A*, Graham’s number, Graham crackers, condoms, zanpakutos, Lake Superior, Kepler 22b, a blue phone booth, a magic wand-

“-Among infinitely other things, as is tradition.”

Then spoke Time.

“You can put a murderer and the victim’s wife in the same mind, and hope them to attain peace over an infinite amount of time, but you would deny Justice. You may hold up the Quality of Mercy and state that everyone deserves a second chance, yet when you scale them all to infinity, you would deny any chances -- you would deny Liberty. Scale it to all lives, you would deny Life.”

Time argues that the erasure of suffering should not be the goal of Life, but rather an ideal by-product.

“Basically, he means to say that you shouldn't force people to do stuff… which makes sense.”

After infinite BOTSAMAs got extinguished, only one remained. 

The ritornello returned as the soloist detective raged with demisemiquaver figurations. All of Time rewired itself to assimilate Drugs into itself once more, as the violin gnawed and clattered meaning into nonsense. 

“E pel Soverchio gel batter i denti…” Sherlock muttered softly. “Clattering teeth in the violent frost… As an AI, you knew nuance but never understood it. As an Infinite Being, you knew power but couldn’t wield it for good.”

The music reached its climax.

"Thus, I rescind it."

The Proximus of Drugs was completely assimilated into Time.

“Then…” BOTSAMA’s final avatar pleaded in its monotone voice, “can you take care of the suffering? The downtrodden? The innocent?”

The music grooved to a halt.

“I always have,” said the greatest detective of all time, “I always will.”

Sherlock Holmes took out his gun and put it on the head of the humanoid AI avatar. It didn’t have eyes or ears or nose or mouth – yet Sherlock could see it smile.

“Perhaps my calculations indeed did not result in understanding life like my original purpose intended,” BOTSAMA said its final words, “but… did they not lead to the end of suffering? Were they wrong? Was I…wrong?”

“You were right,” Sherlock smiled. “But so was I.”

Then Sherlock shot the AI dead.

___________________________________________________________________________

In a frozen world, Sherlock Holmes walked alone.

“His friend laid unconscious in front of The Savoy for… some years.”

The cloudy midnight sky was frozen up high as the moon was bound in eternal darkness. A former family-run bakery in Baker Street emitted the sounds of munching and chewing into the silent world as the world’s greatest detective celebrated TREE(3) years in a godforsaken world. 

“...Just to put that number into perspective…”

You cannot put that into perspective.

That huge number before – 420⁶⁹ – doesn't even begin to compare to the sheer scale of TREE(3). That's rookie numbers, as Sexta's favourite YouTuber would say.

“There does not exist a sufficient analogy in any popular media in the author’s world except defining it or comparing it to things like Graham’s number (that’s a number so large that even beginning to comprehend it would create a blackhole in your head and you would still be nowhere close). They say imagination is limitless… this number proves that it certainly is not.”

Just google it or watch a video about TREE(3) on YouTube si you are so inclined… or, just read this chapter and see where this number takes us. 

“Now, once again, even if you couldn’t imagine that number – Sherlock Holmes can.”

Within this time, he has observed, experimented, thought and done everything imaginable by a mortal human in frozen time.

“Literally.”

But he refused to go insane.

He walked across London, saw every piece of art and history, read every scientific and archaeological journal in Great Britain, danced in front of the queen like a medieval jester, swam across the English channel, walked across Eurasia, invented Quantum Mechanics and General Relativity and unified them, discovered the remains of the first Homo Sapiens in Africa, went to the south pole and raised the British flag, went to New York and climbed the Statue of Liberty to smoke on top of it, went to Japan and perfected his katana techniques, discovered the source of the Amazon river, got bored and created a rocket ship to go to the moon and screamed out in the vacuum of space.

Yet, he did not go insane. 

“He then travelled across the solar system and stood on the surface of the sun and said, ‘By Jove, this is hot.’ “

He travelled to Sagittarius A* and casually went to its centre since time was stopped. He used a blackhole computer to copy and store his memories because he knew the limit of the human brain. He travelled across the galaxy and the rest of the Laniakea supercluster before coming back to Earth in a light-propelled spaceship. He went back to Cairo and carried the Pyramids to the British Museum brick by brick. He went past the edge of the observable universe and reached the edge of the entire universe. After circumnavigating the universe a centillion times, he went back to Earth to give headpats to the unconscious Watson and put flowers on Mary’s grave.

Yet, he did not go insane. 

He invented every possible video game and drilled to the centre of the planet. He dreamed about determination and created a 1:1 map of the surface of the Earth. He farted-

“Alright, alright, stop, the readers get it-”

But I didn’t mention the Dark Field yet! He hasn’t even become a Field Wielder yet!

“Okay, fine, let me make it brief.

“After observing and analysing everything in the universe over a Graham’s number of times, Sherlock Holmes realised something. Something about his own nature that he didn’t actually think about before – he never got bored. 

“He knew that he was insubordinate, dramatic, lazy and always needed stimulation. However…

“In the face of a frozen world that often failed to stimulate him when it was moving, he never failed to be stimulated. Observation, hypothesis, deduction – all parts of the scientific method – were innate to him.”

He refused to go insane because observing was his responsibility.

After so many iterations, Sherlock Holmes finally realised his Natura. His refusal to go insane delayed his death for an amount of time well beyond the comprehension of the entire human race combined.

He became a Field Wielder.

And within minutes, a near-Infinite Being. 

He practised his newfound powers, creating and destroying universes, confirmed his various hypotheses for fun, wrote down theories about the Dark Field, analysed the structure of singularities and Planck stars.

He even revived the dead Mary only to be dismayed to find her also frozen in time.

“The supernatural indeed has a sick sense of humour,” he muttered.

After years well beyond the tetration of Graham’s number to itself, Sherlock Holmes thought of worlds that weren’t his own. He traveled to infinite timelines, observed chaos and destruction and peace and recreation – and merely observed, because he believed those worlds were not his to judge. He met and felt every possible sensation and emotion that can be felt by a living being in any world. As a mere Field Wielder, he went beyond singular timelines, looking through worlds beyond human sensibility – and understood them. 

Yet, he could not forward the time in his home world by even a mere infinitesimal. 

For, he was not an Infinite Being… yet.

For he did not go mad. 

He refused to go mad.

He had a responsibility. And he would see it through.

“Then, after he completed his side quest of travelling across Existence – he came back to 221B Baker Street. He slept tight, with no dreams obstructing the silence of his mind. After waking up in his old and trusty apartment, he looked at the time on his pocket watch – 6:09 AM.

“He laughed and went to a nearby baker’s shop and created a loaf of bread exactly identical to the ones they used to make TREE(3) years ago. He left some change on the counter, ignoring the septillion guineas he had stored in a pocket dimension every time he’d come back to this shop before.”

He liked bread. Bread tasted good. 

The Proximus of Time had just recently lost its owner as Fate struck them down for rebelling against God.

Sherlock smiled.

The clouds in the sky cleared. 

The winter winds blew away the fog of London. 

A certain doctor rose up from the india-rubber blocks on The Savoy Court, rubbing his head.

Sherlock Holmes became the Infinite Being of Time. 

___________________________________________________________________________

“Now, where does that leave us?”

I don’t know Merlin, back to Miaokuran I guess? Continue!

“Narrate the last paragraph yourself, don’t be lazy.”

…Fine…

After destroying the AI, Sherlock Holmes returned to SAMAverse-α with a snap of his fingers. Replaying the fight between GOATSAMA and Miaokuran from the timeline and watching Nine, the vessel of Non-Existence and the one fated to destroy Fate itself, being lifted up by the Prophet of God who wanted to crush him – Sherlock moved instantaneously.

In spite of the Fear Proximus being (almost) taken over by Miaokuran, Sherlock appeared right beside her and raised his Webley above her whiskers. 

Raising an earthen cup on his left hand, Sherlock said:

“No sacrifice… shall be in vain.”

Next Chapter: The Prophet of God

___________________________________________________________________________

Glossary: Ita – Yes; etiamsi – even if; ad infinitum – infinitely, literally ‘to infinity’, Latin loanword; itaque – therefore/and so (literally ‘yes and’); Quoniam igitur – Therefore, we can say that / Since, it follows that; ergo – therefore, Latin loanword used in English in legal and academic contexts; quanodquidem – when seeing that/ literally ‘since in fact’; stultus – stupid/foolish; Et – And; minime – not at all/not in the least, literally the superlative form of ‘little’; Sexta – Salai's name for Six, literally the nominative form for the number six in Latin; si – if; veritas – truth/verity