Here on Gilligan’s Isle
Part 1
by Jenny
8/5/02
Ever had a brief lapse of insanity?
Well, here is one. This is the strangest little mini-crossover
story I have ever written. Warning: it is not to be taken seriously =)
Thanks!
Jenny
Lestrade didn’t remember the crash. She oddly enough
remembered getting on the plane and eating a little package of
over-salted peanuts, but that was the last thing that had
registered in her memory.
She woke up with a mouthful of sand. Actually, with a crab on
her face and a mouthful of sand. She slowly let her eyes focus on
the crustacean. She blinked a couple of times, and when that
moment of 'am I dreaming or am I awake?' surrealism passed, she
reflexively sat up, sending the crab flying like a cheap Frisbee.
After the crab flipped itself upright again, it gave Lestrade a
sulking look (that is, if crabs could give sulking looks) and
shuttled away sideways in the white sand, leaving a legacy of
footprints.
Lestrade spat out the sand and rubbed her neck. The sun was
searing down on her and she felt a wave wash over her feet.
Licking the salt off of her lips, she slowly turned to get up,
but suddenly her nervous system went haywire and her heart jumped
into her mouth.
"Zed you, Holmes, why didn’t you tell me you were there?"
Holmes dryly smirked and continued to casually pick pieces of
yellow flesh from the mango in his hand. Lestrade eyed the mango
and quickly stumbled over to Holmes, plopping herself into the
shade of a palm tree. Holmes, as if reading her half-starved
mind, handed her the mango. She grabbed it and took one big bite
after another.
When she was satisfied, Lestrade put the mango down. "Holmes,
where are we?"
"An island," Holmes answered immediately, as if he
had been expecting the question for hours and was just waiting
for her to ask it.
Lestrade glared. "No kidding! I couldn’t have guessed that!"
"No need for the sarcasm, Lestrade. That is truly about all I
have been able to deduce about this place."
"Really," she flatly stated.
"Well, that is about it, really. I know we are somewhere south-
west of Hawaii on a tropical island that has not seen visitors
since the early 1960’s, although it was once important to
American and Japanese military functions during World War II."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Well, it is information, but it doesn’t help us any."
Lestrade thought for a moment before she abruptly turned to
Holmes. "Where is Watson?"
"Watson? How stupid of me, I completely forgot about Watson!"
Holmes jumped to his feet, quickly followed by Lestrade. It was
then when they heard the high-pitched scream.
"SKIPPER!!!!" Gilligan’s high pitched scream filled the air. He
stumbled backward, tripping on a tree trunk, and began to run
back to camp. He had seen hundreds of things on this island: a
lion, a box full of radioactive vegetables, and even a spaceship!
But this was even scarier. It was a real live metal man! With a
beard and a hat! He ran into another tree trunk and tripped over
another vine before he finally made it back into camp. It was
then he ran into the Skipper, knocking him over.
"Gilligan, watch where you are going!" The Skipper pulled
himself up and brushed the sand off of his blue T-shirt.
"Skipper, I saw...I saw...I saw...."
"Slow down, little buddy, what’s wrong?"
"It was a metal man, honest skipper. And not like the ones in
the movies, no, this one was even scarier! It had a moustache and
a hat and these big thick eyebrows!" Gilligan created a vicious
facial gesture as the Skipper rolled his eyes.
"Now Gilligan, calm down. I am sure it was only your
imagination."
"No, honest Skipper, there really was a metal man. I saw him
near the lagoon."
"Oh, near the lagoon, eh? Well come on Gilligan, let’s go see
him if he is really there."
"No, Skipper, I ain’t going back! Nuh uh, no way, you can’t
make me!" The Skipper took Gilligan’s arm and began to walk down
toward the lagoon. "No way and no how, can’t make me, not this
time." Gilligan continued to shake his head. When they finally
reached the lagoon, the Skipper had had enough of Gilligan’s
protesting.
"Gilligan, shut up and tell me where you saw this ‘metal man’."
"It was right behind that tree."
"Fine. Let’s go look behind the tree."
The Skipper cautiously walked over to the tree, dragging
Gilligan forward. And, quite expectedly, when he saw Watson, he
gasped.
"Humans," Watson shook his head in disgust. "That funny little
man in the red shirt took one look at me and ran away. What did I
ever do to him? And then he comes back to gape again, except he
brought a friend. All I asked them was ‘excuse me, but would you
be kind enough to tell me where I am?’ but apparently that is an
extremely frightening question. They behaved like they had never
seen an android before." Watson, finishing his angry ranting,
started to walk into the lush jungle to follow the scar left by
the two men in their attempt to frantically run away. "Well, it
is my turn to find them," he grumbled. "Maybe they know where
Holmes and Lestrade are. And if not, I can at least tell them it
is rude to stare."
Lestrade didn’t see them coming. And apparently Holmes hadn’t
either, because he uttered a noise of complete surprise when they
crashed into him and Lestrade, sending all four of them toppling
through the underbrush. After a moment of complete confusion,
they got up and stared at the opposite party. Holmes scanned the
two men, gathering all he could, and finally broke the silence.
"Who the devil are you?"
The large man in the blue answered. "What do you mean who are
we? Who are you?"
Holmes, ignoring the question, turned to Lestrade. "Apparently
we have fellow castaways."
"Oh," the short man in red cocked his head, "Did your boat
crash too?"
Lestrade answered. "Plane, actually. My name is Inspector
Lestrade."
The short man smiled. "My name’s Gilligan. And this is the
Skipper."
"It’s nice to meet you," the Skipper shook her hand.
Gilligan turned to Holmes. "Who are you?"
"Sherlock Holmes," said Holmes, nodding to the Skipper and
Gilligan. The Skipper’s face twisted into a knot, as if the name
was vaguely familiar, but Gilligan happily smiled.
"Let’s go back to camp! I bet the others would like to meet you
too!"
The Skipper, apparently giving up the task of figuring out
where he heard that name before, motioned for them to follow and
walked into the forest.
Lestrade looked at Holmes and shrugged. "I guess we should
follow."
Holmes grunted in agreement and they turned into the forest.
Watson heard the entire conversation between Holmes, Lestrade,
Gilligan, and the Skipper, and was following at a safe distance.
He was pretty sure this was the best way to handle things: let
Holmes and Lestrade explain everything first so he wouldn’t scare
anybody else. There was a strange tune stuck in his head, and he
mentally whistled it (that is, if androids whistle). It seemed to
be all over the island, but it was something only androids or
television sets could pick up; "Just sit right back and you’ll
hear a tale, a tale of a faithful trip..."
Lestrade couldn’t believe her eyes. There, sitting on a poorly
constructed wooden table, next to a strange box, was a coconut
filled with water. The Skipper, sensing her thirst, chuckled and
handed it to her. Lestrade drank and drank until the taste of
sand and salty peanuts had left her throat.
"Gilligan, go get some more water," the Skipper ordered.
"Oh, Skipper, I want to-"
"NOW, GILLIGAN!" Gilligan jumped up and ran off into the forest
in some random direction. "Sorry it is so hard to find good service
these days."
"Yes," stated Holmes, "And what is the day?"
"Oh... I’m not sure actually. Sometime in July because of the
rainy season."
"What year is it?"
"You mean, you don’t know what year it is? Did you lose your
memory or something?"
A voice suddenly boomed around the three of them; a strong,
commanding, voice:
"That was last week’s episode!"
Lestrade and Holmes suddenly looked upwards in surprise. The
Skipper glanced sideways curiously.
"What’s wrong?"
"Didn’t you..." Lestrade started, "Didn’t you hear the voice?"
"What voice?"
Holmes blinked a couple of times and continued his questioning.
"Do you know what year it is, Captain?"
"Oh, call me Skipper," the Skipper chuckled. "Of course I know
the year. It is ’64."
"What!?" Lestrade demanded. "Holmes, how long was I asleep?"
Holmes pulled her away from the Skipper and explained under his
breath.
"Lestrade, I don’t think he meant 2164: He is talking about
1964."
On to Part 2!
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