By: Shreya Ghosh
Cast
Alexis Rose, Schitt Creek’s and soon New York’s rising publicist superstar
Sherlock, as plucked from Arthur Conan Doyle and brought to BBC and to the 21st century
Many fourth-wall breaks, influenced by Bertolt Brecht
Act One
There’s Only One Act
{This exchange is set in the lovely and familiar (well, only if you have watched the show) Rosebud Motel Lobby.}
Alexis: Umm, hiii, no offense but you look out of place here. Although, ooh, I could see that coat totally taking the Winter collections by storm! Are you looking for someone?
Sherlock (to audience): Well, I knew I’d have to talk to a few people in this strange little town, at least. (to Alexis) Yes, I have travelled a long way, and need lodgings here for a few days.
Alexis: Ooooh, our receptionist will be here in just a second. And that’s not Stevie anymore. Things are changing around here, and it’s all good. Nice to meet you though! You are…?
Sherlock: Sherlock.
Alexis: Not one for small talk, I see. (to audience) Well, I’ll persist, because something about him is intriguing. (to Sherlock) Well, just so you know, I’m Alexis. (smiles brightly)
(complete silence)
Alexis: So, here for business or pleasure?
Sherlock: No, I’m not here for…”pleasure”. (to audience) Even though I am, I doubt anyone here defines pleasure the way I do. I like this device of me talking to you all. Sort of like reflecting my thoughts onto a sea of humans that don’t talk back. It’s almost as if I’m fictionally crafted to have thoughts worthy of auditory attention, isn’t it? (to Alexis) I’m here to investigate what appears to be quite a promisingly and satisfyingly perplexing case.
Alexis (baffled):….Here? Perplexing? Here? Umm I think you might wanna, like, re-check the address a little?
Sherlock: Isn’t your mayor a Roland….Schitt? Am I reading this correctly? At least I hope I am not.
Alexis: Absolutely correct. But what in the world could….um, sir, see I’ve become quite an (hair-flip) important member of this quaint little community called Schitt’s Creek. Which means I know a lot about things around here and also that I really need to know what this is about. I think I can help you–
Sherlock: I don’t know, can an ex-socialite, budding publicist just about to set out on her own to New York help me?
Alexis: Excuse me wha–
Sherlock: Oh please let’s cut the small talk. I have neither time nor inclination to explain my method to one of the many ordinary-minded–
Alexis: Ordinary minded? Sir–
Sherlock: Yes, yes, ordinary, and boring!
Alexis (to audience): I think it’s time to give his ego a nice little dosage of my colorful past, something you all seem to enjoy. (to Sherlock) Well mister, tell that to the gangster I beat when he challenged me to mind-games in return for freeing Texas after she lost all that money to him. And maybe try piloting his private jet under the pressure of having him chase you in his second private jet because the mind game thing was, like, a total trick.
Sherlock: The mind-games part I understand all too well, but Tex–?
Alexis: Or maybe try saying that to anyone who knows how I handled the infamous crow mishap at Mom’s premiere.
Sherlock: Crow what–
Alexis: Now I get that super-smartness-and-maybe-superpowers is your whole thing, but maybe stop that judgment-train right where it is, because I’m sure there are things I know that you don’t. Now you seem to think you’re some sort of superior entity. (to audience) Do you all know this guy? Am I supposed to? Can’t say I’ve heard “Sherlock” before…Is that strange? Your faces seem to say so. But hold on, I forgot this device doesn’t really let you talk back. Anyway, how did he know all those things about me? Most importantly, why the attitude? (to Sherlock) And who knows, maybe you are. But it probably wouldn’t hurt to, like, be a little kind.
Sherlock: It appears we both have had some…experiences. And if there’s one thing I keep being reminded of lately, it is that I too am fallible. All too fallible, and all too capable of causing hurt, it seems.
Alexis: Okay now this is quite the sudden–
Sherlock: Of course I’m human. (to audience) And I know it must be refreshing for you lot to see my facade of superiority and coldness break. (to Alexis) But how much does it take to demonstrate proof of that humanity? Must one suffer to realize one’s depths? It is almost like performing for someone else’s gratification.
Alexis: That’s strange…I’ve had a similar sense recently.
Sherlock: Have you? Why so?
Alexis: Every memory of the past beyond the last ten minutes I have, seems sort of fake. It feels like the way I’m talking, is um, expected of me. Then I run into you, some mystery man, here to investigate a….case?! Here in Schitt’s Creek, which, my fake-ish memories tell me, is the most comedic and un-mysterious place, like, ever. Ugh, why do I have such conflicting knowledge?
Sherlock: I feel the same way about my memories and the way I am talking. And where in the world am I? Why does it feel like we are from two different worlds, and someone forcibly made our paths cross? And why am I oscillating between cynical egotism and philosophical questioning, as if two well-known aspects of my persona have been stitched together by some stranger?
Alexis: AND, I now think there’s something off about this audience being here and me talking to them in these weird moments where you can’t hear me!
Sherlock: I have been doing that too! I even liked it because I felt I should, but it is mighty strange. And I can just feel, in those faux-memories, that they expect and like certain things I do. And so I do them. Why? Are we real, Alexis, are we real?!
Alexis: You’ve got some great questions, but we can’t go down that rabbit-hole right now. We need a way out! I know you had just been mocking me, but something tells me that was not really up to you. Let’s team up and figure out what is going on, mystery man!
Sherlock: Won’t the audience stop us?
Alexis: Oh I have a strange feeling that they’re just here for a good show; we’ll give them one! Look around. That’s got to get us somewhere. Where are we? It looks like the lobby, but who knows at this point?
Sherlock (looking at theatre door): What is that door? Why didn’t we notice it before?
Alexis (looking directly at Sherlock and taking his hand): Only one way to find out, Sherlock.
{Both run, hand in hand, out of the theatre door. The play now ends because our characters have sadly figured out their fictionality and left the narrative. And with their combined deductive powers, how could they not? Apologies to the audience! At least you got a sweet moment out of it at the end.}
(Curtain)
Tabeer 