CSI
Who Shot Sherlock?

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Elementary, Dear Grissom

After Brass heads out, Liam braces himself for pre-credits impact and asks, "So. Are you going to say, 'The game's afoot'?" Gil says with some small amount of interest, "I didn't know you were a Conan Doyle fan, Liam." Liam says, "I'm not. I saw a Sherlock Holmes movie once. By mistake." Gil's interest packs up and scampers away from the scene. Gil points to Kingsley and says, "Just so you know? Those movies never ended like this."

The Who would like to know how they ended. Also, they're curious as to who you are.

When we get back from commercials, there's the usual post-crime fleet of squad cars parked outside Kasa De Kingsley, lights flashing through the mist. Gil's drilling Brass on what he got from the neighbors. Answer: not much, except an excuse for give Gil an appropriate lead-in to the Grissomian adage, "We all have our costumes, Jim."

And that's how we meet the mixed nuts who will be tonight's suspects in the A-case. They stroll on to the scene amid the rolling fog of a smoke machine someone must have liberated from some dreadful Vegas revue. And speaking of dreadful Vegas revues, when we were in Las Vegas last month, we kept seeing billboards for the show that's officially replaced Thunder from Down Under as the most staggeringly tacky on the strip. And what, you ask, could possibly replace a bunch of blank-faced men sporting pecs like beefy, oiled chiclets and disturbingly diaper-like short shorts? The show Bite. In addition to having a name that's every critic's wet dream, it's also got a howlingly awful premise: Dracula needs a new lady consort, so he gets a lot of trampires to audition for the role. Which they do, mostly naked, while writhing to the strains of classic rock. Doesn't that just sound wretched? You should see the posters for this thing: women in G-strings wearing big fake fangs, trying (and failing) to look more sultry than silly.

The point is, Bite is currently the silliest thing going on, on the Strip. Off the Strip, it's these three clowns. They're in nineteenth-century period costume, play-acting the parts of Holmesian detectives like they're going out of style. Assuming that sort of thing ever was in style. Gil asks if they were friends of the late Kingsley, and one says in a veddy British accent that they're friends of Mr. Holmes. The woman adds in her veddy British accent, "Invited guests, in point of fact." The third snarls in his veddy British accent, "This is all so contemporary." Oh, the plummy tones of a BBC announcer are simply divine for giving voice to moments of extreme snobbishness. I love it.

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CSI

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