From Dr Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:

December 14th (still) continued…
Having ascertained the whereabouts of Littlemill from one of the servants, I ordered a trap and set out to bring my bosom chum back to the bosom of his chum, or put another way, I hastened forth to yank my wayward companion out of his current dalliances in order that we might employ ourselves more productively at Balmoral.

As expected, I found Holmes sitting by the river with his rod out, studying the movements of spawning salmon in the Girnock Burn. He was also, as expected, somewhat the worse for several glasses of malt whisky, which I ascertained our pal Stevenson had left at his side (bastard), before somewhat typically trotting off on some storytelling picnic. In any case, it took me some considerable time to persuade my companion into the trap before we were able to set off back to the castle.

Naturally enough, Holmes was as good as useless for the rest of the day, so I put him to bed and left him to sleep off what I fervently desire will be a stinker of a hangover. Having the rest of the day to kill, as it were, I sought out the King’s secretary and had him go over the details of the case so far. They are thus:

Several letters written in what purports to be human blood, have been delivered for the attention of His Highness demanding that he refrain from consorting with the well-known music-hall star, Felatia Spankwater, who is currently appearing in Whoops, There goes my Virginity! at one of Aberdeen’s popular theatres. I did ask (in a round-about way) if these stories are true, and of course, the secretary denied everything. However, the difficulty is that whoever is writing these letters is threatening to kill the King if he should ever again meet with the aforementioned beauty.

Rather annoyingly, I was a bit at a loss what to do without the guidance of my companion, so I determined to give him until tea-time and then wake the drunken bugger up!

Watson