A friendly bell jingled as Mitch stepped inside, belying the far more sophisticated security measures in place over the rest of the building. Glass cases full of the memorabilia Sherlock had mentioned were all over the shop floor, illuminated by fluorescent lights and cushioned on delicately laid cheesecloth. Bond's suit was there, as promised, with a pair of Zatanna's fishnets nearby. Both outrageously priced, both equipped with alarms.
Other things set out like shrines included batarangs, full quivers from both the Hawkeyes and the Green Arrow family; anything the imagination could find. The displays even ranged to the slightly macabre with supposedly authentic troll horns, samples of Dr. Hank McCoy's fur, while fenders and mufflers hung on the wall claiming to be parts of KITT and other transformers.
Posters and photographs and press clippings also stood proudly on the wall, framed for posterity. Many of them captured both the good and bad deeds of imPorts. Documentations of skrull sightings, political rallies and signs, and of course, a large Hundred/Nygma campaign poster sticking out among the rest.
The shop owner smiled cordially enough at Mitch when he noticed him. He leaned over his counter top full of cheaper items, gesturing to another corner of the shop.
"Ah, Mr. Trevelyan said he was waiting for somebody."
Sherlock doesn't turn to look to see if it even is Mitch. Instead, he continues to stare up at a clothing exhibit, displayed fully so passerby could catch all the details. There were two coats, one long, black and woolen, the other a black leather shooting jacket. Both were riddled with bullet holes. Directly next to them, a newspaper clipping proudly prolclaimed: "HOLMES AND WATSON OUT OF PUBLICATION -- famous detectives gunned down for continuously refusing regisitration."
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Other things set out like shrines included batarangs, full quivers from both the Hawkeyes and the Green Arrow family; anything the imagination could find. The displays even ranged to the slightly macabre with supposedly authentic troll horns, samples of Dr. Hank McCoy's fur, while fenders and mufflers hung on the wall claiming to be parts of KITT and other transformers.
Posters and photographs and press clippings also stood proudly on the wall, framed for posterity. Many of them captured both the good and bad deeds of imPorts. Documentations of skrull sightings, political rallies and signs, and of course, a large Hundred/Nygma campaign poster sticking out among the rest.
The shop owner smiled cordially enough at Mitch when he noticed him. He leaned over his counter top full of cheaper items, gesturing to another corner of the shop.
"Ah, Mr. Trevelyan said he was waiting for somebody."
Sherlock doesn't turn to look to see if it even is Mitch. Instead, he continues to stare up at a clothing exhibit, displayed fully so passerby could catch all the details. There were two coats, one long, black and woolen, the other a black leather shooting jacket. Both were riddled with bullet holes. Directly next to them, a newspaper clipping proudly prolclaimed: "HOLMES AND WATSON OUT OF PUBLICATION -- famous detectives gunned down for continuously refusing regisitration."