“Are ya now?” Oogie asked, turning to him with a cold stare as he slipped into his natural accent. “Course! The famous detective. A name like yours don’t…”
Oogie had done a good job in scaring him a few times over the years, but he was a hard person to scare, let alone spook. As he mentioned the deerstalker, he couldn’t help but let out a maniacal laugh, his signature laugh that struck fear into the hearts of others.
“Then in that case, I must be a prime example of the diabolical, and evil if ya like. Dare ya to deduce me, Mr Holmes - though I have no doubt you’ve already tried. Indulge me…who am I?”
Sherlock smiled as he watched Oliver some to the realization of who he was. “Ah so the penny drops for you. It doesn’t surprise me that you recall me by name. It is both a blessing and a curse to be so arse-named in my line of work.” Needing no further encouragement to gt his teeth into deducing the stranger, Sherlock sprung to life and ordered Oliver to take half a step to the left where he could see slightly better. He had been dying to get his teeth into Oliver and satiate his desire to work out just what he was hiding under all those layers of mystery.
The first thing the consulting detective noticed was how strikingly brilliant his eyes were. The shade of green was like no other. Come to think of it, the general hue of the form the stranger had been in before this one was also tinged green. Sherlock closed his eyes to better visualize what he had seen. Green was a colour most often likened to wealth and a fresh start. It contained a purity to it that represented new beginnings. However that didn’t seem right. The connotations of green also suggested jealousy and a tie to nature. Psychologically green was repetitive of possessiveness and a desire to control. Now that seemed more appropriate for Sherlock’s newest companion.
“You want to know what I think? Fine, listen well. You’re an otherworldly spirit of some kind, one not from around here. My first clue was the way you mimicked my English accent when we spoke. That suggests you either want to not draw attention to yourself or are sub-consciously trying to fit in. Look at you though. You are rather attractive and with such a self-confident attitude about you it seems unlikely that your desire to remain in the shadows is because you shouldn’t be here. When you first arrive you looked around as if this place was insignificant to you. Neither the buildings or the goings on of this place interest you. Clearly you are not a tourist or a local or such things would catch your attention. Oh no, what you did was gaze around and look through everything like you are searching for something in particular. Maybe you are on some kind of business? That would be right going by how you hold yourself. It has a hint of formality so whatever brings you here is obviously important to you. Whatever this job is it is clearly something you love doing. Going by the way you speak, it isn’t something you should be proud of but revel in doing regardless.”
Sherlock broke off to pace around the stranger once more, humming quietly to himself, before stopping back in front of him with his hand shoved in his coat pockets. “My first thought would be that you are a demonic spirit because of the sheer starkness of the green on you compared to anything else. Demons are both attractive looking and often likened to nature. Somehow that doesn’t seem to quite fit quite right though. If you were any old demon then you would be hiding in the shadows and prey upon any one of these weak minded fools. A demonic being doesn’t wander out of Gehanna for no reason so there is obviously something else going on in that brain of yours. You are on some kind of mission, obviously that job I alluded to a moment ago, but you don’t seem the kind to take orders. This is evident by your arrogance and air of authority.
I watched you shape shift into this form from across the way. Whatever you are, you are very powerful. If you take orders from no one then my point is only strengthened. Now let us come to the interesting part of my spiel. Your words. You speak of evil and the diabolical like you are well acquainted with them. In fact I would be inclined to say both are things you are awfully intimate with. Most people would be ashamed about having such malevolent thoughts but not you. The aforementioned pride in your work resurfaces once again. There is a legend in Spain that I am sure you are aware of. An insane psychotic murderer is welcomed into society and is allowed to take a child that has been given to him willingly by disappointed parents or any child that is not home by sundown or supper time. I notice that those lovely emerald eyes of yours tended to linger on the children f this town more than anyone else. Do you have an interest in them perhaps? One that satiates your own desire to be evil? You have to admit that the psychopath certainly ticks all the same boxes as you, dear Oliver. While the Spanish don’t know him by that name, we English speaking folks know him by the Sack-man or, more popularly, the Bogeyman.”
Oogie listened to him speaking, following his gaze and lines of thought at all times. He was a truly remarkable man, having made so many deductions in less than a few seconds of knowing him, no wonder he was in the papers often. He found his comments about Demons humorous, having met a few in his time - Halloween Town and Limbo were loosely linked by some of the demons that lingered in both the Town and the Purgatory.
As he finished, Oogie clapped his hands. “Bravo, Mr Holmes - you’ve cracked me” he said, not even scanning down the road as he snapped his fingers and turned into his natural form. His eyes glowed bright neon green and his snake tongue hissed. He didn’t care much for any humans that saw him, most believing it was a rather amazing costume that had been made to represent some sort of book, film or game character - and he laughed at them for it. Few of them really knew the power Oogie held.
“I go by many names, Oliver bein’ one of ‘em. But most know me as Oogie Boogie where I come from. At y’all service, ‘course. Creator of nightmares and fears, King of Halloween Town - though, I assume ya already know all that?”
He grinned at the detective, a spider crawling from one of his eye sockets and disappearing through one of the gaps in his stitching. Sherlock was certainly a remarkable human and Oogie doubted he’d ever met someone quite as amazingly clever as him, so he commended him for that.