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Vying for the Arms of Mary…

from Dr J Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:

(Hand-delivered by urchins)
Watson – I sincerely hope you have recovered from the vast quantities of wine you were forced to consume last night, due to the brain-numbingly tedious hours of drivel we were bombarded with, issuing from the apertures of our companions, in a seemingly constant flow of ineffable ordure, much as Hercules must have faced when tasked with the unenviable job of cleaning the Augean stables.

I admit even I was taken aback by the huge disparity in the Public Reputation of the Acclaimed Romantic Poets, and the actuality of their output, given that what we witnessed was an average offering. I am beginning to believe the ugly rumours of their employing what is aptly (in this case) termed Ghost Writers (not to be confused with Dickens’ latest Sideshow currently hawking round the countryside – “Ghost Rider”, with that well-known Thesp. Nicholas McCage).

By the way, as Mary and I were threading our way through the Shambles which was the Market in this wearisome, parochial backwater, who did we have the absolute misfortune to bump in to (as he strode self-importantly around the place, booming in a seeming parody of that other well-known show-off, Brian d’Blessed),none other than that unholy bore Branagh, scouting for ideas for some wretched scribble he and Dickens have been working on. And wouldn’t you know – although I warned her not to breathe a word about her Idea from the ridiculous Ghost-Story-Competition – she blabbed until she was blue in the face.

What will be the outcome of That, I asked myself, while eyeing up some tasty-looking Emmenthal, lying on a bed of freshly-picked Gentians, and securing for myself a real humdinger of a chunk of the best Swiss Shag.

Anyhow, Watson, I trust we will find you somewhat refreshed when we return, and keep your fingers crossed that we have managed to shake Branagh off, as he was hinting broadly that he wouldn’t mind seeing you again, to reminisce about The Old Days. I cared not for the sleazy gleam in his eye as he pronounced the sentence.

Your friend, much wearied in all manner of ways,

SH.

 
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Posted by on December 9, 2014 in Detective Fiction

 

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Of Moths and Men

From Sherlock Holmes Esq to Dr J Watson:

Watson – Would that you had mentioned the fact that this insufferably self-absorbed man was a past acquaintance of our “friend” Master Douglas I should have been spared an evening of terminal boredom and crushing wearisome recanting of Anecdotes and Incidents from The Boards…I almost believe you refrained from mentioning that choice piece of information just for the secret pleasure of imagining my discombobulation and Total Ennui…had Inspector Lestrade not arrived just at the point where I was about to throw in the towel and disgorge some of my own musings and Tales, I do believe I should now be an inmate at the Douglas Institute itself.

However, that worthy gentleman Did call just as the last of Mrs Hudson’s Crenulated Fancies had been devoured, and made me privy to the latest development at this Place of Worship you mentioned, where a sighting of The Creature had been noted and duly confirmed. I hastily threw together a Bag of Articles I believe to be necessary for our Investigation while Gere and Douglas were in the process of causing Lestrade’s eyes to glaze over at the relentless bombardment of his senses caused by their interminable witterings and ridiculous posturings; I have not seen him like that since the renowned and much-lauded Sir K. Bertie Branagh held an Evening of Reminiscences in the Local Mission Hall. ( I do believe your good lady attended said Function and unfortunately found herself held at Her Majesty’s Pleasure afterwards…I forget the details …)

Anyhow, I shall expect you for Dinner this evening – Hudson is preparing Broadway Brisket and Manhattan Meringues in honour of our guest….I believe she is somewhat in awe at his credentials, or somesuch – stuff and nonsense, if you want my opinion, but the woman is easily set a-quiver, as you know only too well…

Come prepared, Watson – we may need your trusty firearm…

 
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Posted by on July 18, 2014 in Detective Fiction

 

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