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Sherlock Mafia

Lorem Ipsum

Shamely reposted:

This is roughly based on the recent TV series Sherlock, which I personally adored. Forgive me if some of the roles are rather obscure. A list of which roles are which, in relation with Buttefree's thread:

Don: Moriarty
Goons: Criminals
Terrorist: Terrorist

Inspector: Sherlock Holmes
Doctors: Watson and Sarah
Lover: Molly Hooper (the forensics woman who has a crush on Sherlock)
Vigilante: Mycroft
Fishing brothers: DI Dimmock and Sgt. Donovan (the people who Sherlock deduced were having an affair in A Study in Pink)
Police: DI Lestrade

Alien: Mrs. Hudson (yes I know :P)

One new role - that's DI Lestrade. Basically, every night, he can choose to arrest and detain a person so that they can't do anything that night. In effect, it nullifies the affected person's actions for the evening.


Pointing his handgun at the wall, Sherlock Holmes boredly fired six bullets at a makeshift target he had drawn with one of Dr. Watson's highlighters. Reviewing his handiwork, he sighed as he saw bullet holes sprayed in a haphazard mess around the centre point of the pink circle. Quickly, he sprang to his feet, leaving the gun amidst the mess of the coffee table, and swooping to pick up his Stradivarius. Plucking a rather Germanic sounding chord, he continued to wait for something to come up with the police. Not a murder or suicide... something interesting.

Thus it seemed to be conicidental to Sherlock as Dr. Watson himself walked in, and after quickly showing his surprise at the new "adornments" to the wall, raised the evening edition of the Standard.

"There's been another one," he said grimly.

"Another what?" asked Sherlock, his interest caught.

"A murder. Another murder - and the London Mafia are claiming responsibility again."

And without saying another word, Sherlock rushed past him, pulling on his trademark coat and scarf. The hunt was on.

Yes, I wrote a backstory - probably crap, but nevertheless :D

- Night phases last 48 hours
- It is currently night
- If you don't send me anything, I presume you have done nothing that night
- Don't message other people unless you can under your role. If you are messaged out of the blue, don't reveal anything.

So, let's play.

Lorem Ipsum

Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson raced down Baker Street, immediately calling up a trademark London black cab to take them to where they needed to go.

"Where was the man killed?" asked Sherlock, whipping out his Blackberry.

"Near Fleet Street - I can't remember the street name exactly," replied John.

"Excellent," said Sherlock. "To Strand we go then." Seeing the raised eyebrow of John, he sighed, and, slightly tired of having to explain his reasoning, said "if they killed on Fleet Street, one must presume that they escaped down one of the connected roads, and to somewhere nearby. So Strand is our best bet."

"Bloody hell," said John. "It's like a game of Monopoly."

"And isn't it fun?" asked Sherlock, smiling.


The cab pulled over outside a row of houses, blocked from going any further by a police cordon that had been set up seemingly overnight.

"I hope they haven't got here before us," said John, frowning, but quietly happy that the runaround wouldn't have to take place as usual.

"No, they haven't," replied Sherlock. "If they'd found the perpetrator, they'd have arrested him and sent a team back, not cordon off an entire road. No - there's been another death."

"What, in the space of twelve hours?"

"It appears so."

Briskly, the two walked under the police cordon after telling the guarding officer of their business and connection with DI Lestrade.

"Sorry though chaps," said the officer, "the Detective Inspector has just arrested somebody - he's about to leave."

John raised his eyebrows to Sherlock in an "I-told-you-so" manner, before Sherlock sighed and walked towards the house that the police were investigating. "Where's DI Lestrade?" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the din of discussion that the various officers were partaking in.

A voice replied, "I'm over here, Sherlock," obviously that of Lestrade himself. Sherlock quickly walked over, John lagging behind.

"I thought you'd made an arrest," said Sherlock, seriously doubting the competence of the detective standing infront of him.

"I was about to, until I found this," replied Lestrade, stepping aside to reveal a body. On the floor was a man in his thirties, but his side impaled unorthodoxly by an umbrella stained red with blood. He was quite clearly dead. "Credit cards were issued to various different names, and his house was insured to a different one to that entirely, so we're looking at a criminal here."

"You mean the criminal?" piped in John.

"One of them," said Lestrade grimly. "They're the London Mafia, so I suppose that there are plenty of them. But one thing's for sure, the MO was different in this murder than the other ones - this wasn't a Mafia job."

Sherlock sighed and his eyes met those of John.


Walker is dead. He was mafia.


Dawn has broken - the Day Phase lasts forty-eight hours.


actually very huggable
Staff member
Plenty of people, one mafia down, and no innocents dead. I say we abstain.


puppy-sized elephants
Death by umbrella; sticky. o_O

Our odds shouldn’t be too shabby here, so I’d agree the wisest thing to do would to be to abstain.


Okay, that could work. I mean, if we get another kill on the mafia, then that's two for us and a possible one for them.


Tragically unbeyachted.
Abstaining also. A random lynch would hurt more than help here, especially since it's Day 1 and we have so little to go on.

Lorem Ipsum

Nobody was lynched.


Night fell, and several things crossed Sherlock's mind before falling into a deep, dark sleep.


It is night. You have forty-eight hours to send your night actions.

Lorem Ipsum

Pushed wrong buttons - Kinova and Zephyrous Castform aren't dead.


Sherlock woke up that morning to find the flat curiously empty, the door left wide open. Yawning briefly, he quickly dressed before finding a note on the table: "Been to see Mrs. Hudson - clearly not well. Seeing what I can do. John".

Sighing at the unnecessary help that John was giving to other people, Sherlock quickly pulled on his coat and scarf before heading downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hudson.

"Mrs. Hudson!?" he shouted.

"I'm not well, Sherlock," came the reply. "John was here but he had to go to the morgue for some reason."

"Alright," returned Sherlock, conveniently remembering that he had left his riding crop in the morgue. Trotting outside, and calling up a cab, he fed the directions through the perspex separator and made his way to the hospital.


What Sherlock found there was a horrific sight. In the main lab, sprawled across the floor was the disfigured body of a young woman, not much older than twenty-five, yet another brightly coloured umbrella through her side. But yet that wasn't the only dead body. To her side, holding her hand, was somebody else that Sherlock instantly recognised: John Watson, pistol in his other hand and a gunshot wound to his head.

On the desk was a note in John's handwriting that Sherlock quickly read: "Found Molly here after she called me - there was something wrong. I can't live without her, Sherlock (I know you'll find this first). Life must go on though. Find the person who did this."

Another kill with the umbrella. John dead. Molly dead. Something was going on, and he didn't like it. Leaving the bodies with their hands entwined on the floor, Sherlock exited the morgue, picking up his riding crop as he did so.

Brock is dead. He was not mafia.
Flora and Ashes is dead. She was not mafia.

There are forty-eight hours for discussion and decision on who to lynch.

Kinova and Zephyrous Castform are still alive by the way - as I've previously stated I pushed completely the wrong buttons. I'm trying to get this sorted.