Once within the cargo compartment, Holmes crouched down next to the assembled discoveries Rebecca had unearthed and perused them with an eye that was, presumably, quite practiced. His partially begloved fingers poked and prodded, picking up a book or manual here and there to flip through them, errantly holding more than a few sideways to let the pages fall open at their whimsy.
He made many a sage-like "hmm" and "aaah" and "I see!" as he went about his observations.
The way he stopped for nearly a full minute to spend rummaging through and trying on several of the top hats left elsewhere in the compartment was a bit odd, certainly, but the great detective seemed quite sure of himself and what he was doing so it was probably just how he operated.
Eventually, however, he came to a halt with one hand lifted, index finger extended and just barely touching his temple. "Yes, yes, I see....so that's the root of the matter at hand. Very interesting, indeed."
"Oh?" Rebecca perked up slightly, looking rather hopeful. "Have you figured out something?"
"I've figured out much more than that!" Holmes announced, flicking his hand forward to make his trademark deerstalker hat jostle, flopping up and down atop his head, while he flashed a roguish smirk. "In fact, I believe I've figured out several different types of something, enough to make up what some might quantify as 'everything'. Why these items were left behind in this place, who they once belonged to, and how to access the information contained within them!"
Rebecca blinked several times rapidly, looking from Holmes to the scattered items in wonder. "You figured out all that so quickly...?"
"Of course, my dear." Holmes brought his pipe to his lips, idly puffing on it as if to punctuate his point. Though it was still quite empty. "Now then, shall I merely enlighten you to the answers? Or shall I walk you through how I arrived at these quite obvious conclusions?"
"Well..." Admittedly, the answers were all that really mattered. But the prospect of getting even a glimpse into how the mind of someone like Sherlock Holmes actually worked...no academic even halfway worth their learning could turn that down! "....I am kind of curious how you managed to figure it all out."
"Very well then." And Holmes straightened up, lifting one hand to ever so slightly pull down the brim of his hat to shadow his eyes as he smiled warmly. "Then pay attention now, as you will be one of the privileged few to bear firsthand witness..." And he abruptly snapped a shift in his demeanor, one hand at his waist while the other arm raised up, index finger raised dramatically to emphasize his point. "....to Sherlock Holmes' Logic and Reasoning Spectacular!"
"Firstly, to the most important matter at hand!" Holmes spun about, with a snap of his fingers and pointed at the first item in question: the attache case. "Why these items were left behind!"
He brought one hand to his chin as he began to pace to and fro, walking as well as talking through his train of thought. "A room like this, so rarely ventured into, would make the perfect place to lock away and forget about items which one might wish to keep secret. In a word..." Holmes again whipped about, pointing a finger dramatically at Rebecca. "...incriminating evidence, of a crime most heinous!"
In spite of herself, the scientist jolted back with a muted gasp. "A crime? Here? But—"
"Yes indeed, a crime!" Holmes went on boldly. "A most heinous and unforgivable one, at that. In point of fact, this can be quite easily proven by these firearm magazines so carelessly left behind! The fact they lie here, so empty and yet so haphazardly stuffed in among the other typically expected items in one's travel luggage can only point to one fact..." He spun around, his hand brought up with an upraised index finger. "...a fight took place with the owner of these items, in which someone involved was forced to discharge their firearm with wild indiscretion, leaving them exhausted of ammunition to continue their fight."
"And here, the battered state of this suitcase..." He rested a heel on the battered, barely-holding together trunk full of electrical components. "....it was clearly long-used, and suffered through many long trips and trials. But in the final moments of its occupant, it was used in a defensive maneuver to ward off an attacker. The abrasions we can see upon its surface, and its utterly jumbled and disarrayed contents point to it being used to desperately repel an attempt on its owner's life."
"The final item we have here, this conspicuously immaculate suitcase...." At this, Holmes actually paused, pursing his lips with an upraised finger. "...this is the most suspicious and telling of all." He swiftly dropped into a spinning crouch, snatching up one of the psychology manuals. "From the information contained within, the owner was no doubt a learned man of some description. He was trained in psychology and profiling techniques, no doubt to allow him to gauge the minds of others without them being any the wiser. In a word, the perfect skill for an assassin." Holmes smirked, bringing one finger to his temple as he forged ahead, heedless of the absurdity of his claims.
"The owner of this case in particular came here with the objective of tracking down a target. A place like this, already known for its bloodsport and high mortality rate, would make the perfect place to commit the deed. By masquerading as an employee, they gained access to this train and waited until their prey boarded...then they struck!" Holmes ducked back, lifting his arms and adopting a mock boxing pose, throwing several quick jabs at a phantom opponent. "They met in the corridor, fighting a desperate struggle! The assassin was bold, using his knowledge of the mind to deduce his opponent was a chivalrous sort, and forcing an unlucky bystander into the mix! And in the chaos...."
A noise went off all of a sudden, not unlike a gunshot, and Holmes went reeling backward, arms flailing as his cap fell over his face and he hit the ground with a heavy thud, throwing up a plume of thick dust. "...their collars, all, were triggered! Violence outside of the reach of their cameras could not be permitted!"
In a flash, the great detective was on his feet again, with a coy smirk. "Thus, it leads to only one possibility...a foul interloper was present upon this train, and sought to take the lives of two of his fellow passengers. But caught in the act, they were summarily all disposed of, their remains and belongings tossed here into the shadows of the lost and found to be forgotten!"
Rebecca could only stare haplessly, blinking slowly and shuffling her feet awkwardly. "Um....I don't know about all that..." she finally spoke up. "And what about the rest? You know, who this stuff belonged to and how to crack the passwords?"
"I believe I have already answered who they belonged to." Holmes brought a finger to his temple, eyes closed as if in deep contemplation. "Previous contestants of this little event, and someone after their heads. I believe in the first season there was a secret-agent looking gentleman who would seem the type to possess this first case, and a rather clumsy looking fellow with a great reputation who one can only imagine as the perfect partner to this falling apart case."
Rebecca furrowed her brow in thought at that. "You mean...Agent HUNK and King?" she finally managed to piece together. "But didn't both of them actually make it to the island and participate? I didn't really watch the footage or anything, but...I saw they were eliminated after the competition started."
"......" Holmes went deathly quiet, seemingly locked in his contemplation for a long moment. "....ah."
"....ah?" Rebecca repeated, in clear puzzlement.
"Regardless! These items belonged to past contestants of this event, of that I have no doubt!" Holmes wagged a finger. "Who else would have reason to board and take passage upon this train, Doctor Chambers?"
"Now then. With the identity of their owners thus established, we can move on to the more pressing question at hand: How to access their secretive information, locked away behind electronic keys for which there exists no convenient pick?" Holmes brought a hand up and flicked his bizarre goggles down over his eyes. "Luckily, Sherlock Holmes has no need for convenience, when brilliance can make do!"
A flourish of his cloak and he spun around, arm outstretched and bearing a ridiculous looking handgun, looking like some horrid abomination of steampunk fantasy and what someone from the early 20th century must have no doubt thought futuristic, alien weaponry would look like. All gilded grass and gold, delicate woodworking and electrical components, a few small knobs, and four tiny canisters of differently colored glowing fluid perched where the sights would be on a normal gun. "Observe, Doctor Chambers..." And he fires once, a brilliant plume of pink smoke billowing forth to burst upon the items in question.
Rebecca recoiled, covering her face with the sleeve of her coat and coughing weakly. "Wh-What...was that?!" Whether she was referring to the gun itself, the projectile, or what in the good great hell Holmes was actually doing was anyone's guess.
"A simple creation of mine, elaborated on and perfected by my lovely assistant, Doctor Watson," Holmes announced proudly as he twirled his odd firearm and holstered it again. "Observe, if you would."
The bizarre pink smoke cleared quickly, dissipating as if it had never been. In its wake it left only a faint residue here and there on the looted items in question, which seemed to rather clearly resemble...
"Fingerprints!" Rebecca squeaked, as realization hit her.
"Precisely!" Holmes flashed a grin, his goggles now mysteriously back atop his head once more. "From this, we can easily see the way to access these little devices you've found." And he plucked up the PDA in his partially begloved fingers, giving it a closer look. "Yes, as expected." And he turned it around for Rebecca to see. "Clearly marked by the prints of its former owner." And indeed it was....over most of the entire keyboard and screen. Not exactly useful.
"From this it becomes clear: the one who owned this little object was quite paranoid, and fond of setting overly long and complex passwords." Holmes chortled. "Clearly the mark of a superior mind, to be able to remember and keep track of such information reliably. It is no wonder that it required such an elaborate ambush to dispose of him. Regrettably, I do not think we will be able to gain access to this device. This other one, however..."
And Holmes tossed the PDA aside carelessly, leaving Rebecca to awkwardly scramble and spend several perilous seconds trying not to drop it. The detective picked up the laptop, twirling and spinning it atop one finger in a startling display of dexterity before bringing it to rest balanced on one upraised palm. "....the larger keys here leave much clearer prints, and quite complete ones, at that. Regrettably it does not feature a fingerprint lock as I have heard some such devices do, so we must resort to other means to gain access. Fortunately..." He dropped down to the floor, depositing the laptop there and squatting down on hands and knees to peer at the keys from mere inches away.
"...a close examination reveals important bits to the eye. Namely, that several keys are much more worn away than others. Clearly they were pressed much more often than any other, and are important beyond measure. With these as a guide, we can then proceed to the manuals...." And Holmes plucked up one of them, seemingly at random.
He proceeded to flip through the text for several silent seconds, then quickly typed in a few keys. And when he spun the laptop around for Rebecca to see again, it had miraculously accepted the password and logged into the skull-marked account.
"And with that, my dear Doctor Chambers...." Holmes rose back to his feet, sweeping one arm out to his side and bringing it in front of him before dropping into an overly done, somewhat ostentatious bow. "...thus concludes Sherlock Holmes' Logic and Reasoning Spectacular!"
