Here on Gilliganís Isle

Part 1

by Jenny

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!


Lestrade didnít 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 didnít 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 couldnít 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 1960ís, 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 doesnít 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!!!!" Gilliganís 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, whatís 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, letís go see him if he is really there."

"No, Skipper, I ainít going back! Nuh uh, no way, you canít make me!" The Skipper took Gilliganís arm and began to walk down toward the lagoon. "No way and no how, canít make me, not this time." Gilligan continued to shake his head. When they finally reached the lagoon, the Skipper had had enough of Gilliganís protesting.

"Gilligan, shut up and tell me where you saw this Ďmetal maní."

"It was right behind that tree."

"Fine. Letís 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 Ďexcuse me, but would you be kind enough to tell me where I am?í 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 didnít see them coming. And apparently Holmes hadnít 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 nameís Gilligan. And this is the Skipper."

"Itís 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 Skipperís face twisted into a knot, as if the name was vaguely familiar, but Gilligan happily smiled.

"Letís 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 wouldnít 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 youíll hear a tale, a tale of a faithful trip..."

Lestrade couldnít 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... Iím not sure actually. Sometime in July because of the rainy season."

"What year is it?"

"You mean, you donít 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 weekís episode!"

Lestrade and Holmes suddenly looked upwards in surprise. The Skipper glanced sideways curiously.

"Whatís wrong?"

"Didnít you..." Lestrade started, "Didnít 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 í64."

"What!?" Lestrade demanded. "Holmes, how long was I asleep?" Holmes pulled her away from the Skipper and explained under his breath.

"Lestrade, I donít think he meant 2164: He is talking about 1964."

On to Part 2!

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