Monthly Archives: June 2015

Watson Has Left the Building…

From Sherlock Holmes Esq to Doctor Watson:

(By Telegram to Cabot’s Cove)

I thought I had made my position absolutely clear as to the Real and Present Danger of venturing outwith the School Buildings – do you honestly believe that I say anything which is not based entirely on fact-based supposition? Have you still not grasped this simple truth, in all the years we have been fighting Crime and Corruption; after all the Situations we have found ourselves in together, hard up against the ugly Face of Depravity and back to back against the most Venal and Ruthless Individuals, hell-bent on forcing their twisted and dissolute Will on the innocent and unblemished Countenance of this Fair Land.

I know I wax lyrical, Watson, but I have been doing some serious Reflection, and I do believe that, at heart, we are a decent Nation, compared with some of our Global Cousins…..but I digress……I cannot believe you were stupid enough to leave the safety of the Buildings – whatever were you thinking? You knew I was on the Way. It is just a blessing that Major Tom had witnessed your rash and foolish action, and sent a Message via his patented Unmanned Gyroscope to nearby Cabot Cove, to the residence of the wonderful Jessica Fletcher, Novelist and Amateur Sleuth, who has been clever enough to solve several Local Mysteries and Criminal Acts, thus earning herself a number of accolades and Mentions of Honour in the Criminologists’ Code of Conduct; Ms Fletcher, alerted to your Self-inflicted Dilemma, was immediately able to Summon help from the nearby Light Aircraft Fanciers Society, who subsequently came to your Aid.

Now that you are all safely being put up by the helpful residents of Cabot Cove, I can concentrate on solving this Case…without having to worry about your actions…by the way, no-one was taken in by your explanation for Ms Hedren’s state of undress when you were rescued, Watson –  one does not have to remove that many garments in an asthma attack.

Your somewhat irritated colleague, SH.

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Posted by on June 27, 2015 in Detective Fiction


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The Flaming Locks of Florence…

From Sherlock Holmes Esq to Doctor Watson:

(By Morse Code, via Major Tom)

Watson –
Whatever you do, make sure the Premises are secure – whatever means you can find to turn the building in to a Fortress – do so – your lives may depend on it; I am working on a Plan to rescue yourself and the others. By the way, do not reveal any salient information to Miss Machine – I have a sneaking suspicion she is not what she seems. I am sure I have seen those flaming-red locks in the company of our Arch Nemesis, which leads me to the conclusion that she is mixed up to an incriminating degree in this Horror.

Have you heard me talk of Big Jack Horner – the veteran Palaeontologist from Montana USA? He has been attempting to turn a domestic chicken in to nothing less than The Terrible Lizard (extinct, I know), Tyrannosaurus Rex for as long as I can remember – we all thought he should be rubbing shoulders with Away-With-the-Fairies Richard Dadd in the Insane Asylum, but it looks as though he may have been helped along his twisted plan by none other than Moriarty’s interventions. Much as it pains me to contemplate such things…I know I have perhaps caused your brain cells to collide in confusion with these revelations, but I do indeed think that this is the Cause of your calamitous situation.

Whatever you do – do Not venture Outside.

Your friend, feverishly formulating a Way Out,


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Posted by on June 21, 2015 in Detective Fiction


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As the Vultures Gather…

from Dr J Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:

(delivered by hand by Ex-Major Tom, formerly of Bowie Street Barrac1500_scene-from-the-birds1ks)

Thank you for your telegram, which I received yesterday morning, but I have to inform you that such matters as disgruntled librarians are the least of our troubles.

As your messenger will have no doubt confirmed, myself and Tippy are at this very moment trapped in the schoolhouse on Seagull Lane (together with an agitated teacher and several screaming children), surrounded by thousands of birds – the dreadful creatures can be seen gathering on telephone wires, tops of walls and in the trees surrounding the playground.

But I digress – Tippy arrived in my hotel room shortly after your telegram and had begun to tell me of your ‘adventures’ (you cad, Holmes, how could you?), when a boy appeared with a message from Miss Florence Machine, a teacher at the very same building of educational instruction in which we are now trapped. Her message was addressed to Messrs Holmes and Watson and simply read:

“Come to the school at once. The Eagle has landed.”

On our arrival, it was plain to see that our formerly-feathered-friends, were gathering in great numbers all around the school. Even as Tippy and I made our way as quietly as possible and with the utmost care to the front door, the activity of the birds became more blatant. The creatures clearly have a leader – a large eagle who has perched himself rather worryingly on top of the children’s swings. Once again, I am reminded of a certain acquaintance of ours whose features seem indelibly part of that noble bird’s dominion. Yes, Holmes, I know it’s ridiculous but I am convinced that Moriarty is somehow a part of this whole bird-related episode.

Urging the teacher and children to withdraw to the uppermost floor of the building, it was at this point I noticed a flashing light from a house in the distance. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I realised someone was transmitting Morse Code. Scribbling down what I could grasp of the sender’s message, I soon deciphered it. However, since it concerns the cleavage of a certain barmaid at the Hog’s Head Arms, I have no need to reiterate the contents of that message. I whipped out my own make-up mirror (I’ll explain later) and began flashing in the direction of Major Tom.

Thankfully the Major quickly grasped the details of my predicament and signalled that he would contact you as soon as humanly possible. I think he was a little annoyed at my insistence on sending such a lengthy communication when I could more easily have condensed it into a few words, but I know how you like to be informed of all the relevant details.

In short, Holmes, please come quickly.

Yours, somewhat upset,


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Posted by on June 20, 2015 in Detective Fiction


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The Librarian Vanishes…

From Sherlock Holmes Esq to Doctor Watson:

Watson – I do not know how to broach this subject – the issue is rather delicate. I am hoping you have not succumbed to that disturbing condition which has periodically hobbled your Life to some extent. I received a letter from a Librarian in the vicinity of your latest researches. She seemed somewhat disturbed and concerned as to your intentions and seemed to be under the impression that you were stalking her. Tell me that this is not the case…I do not relish the prospect of another investigation and background search into your character.

I should be pleased if you could get back to me postscript. I hope I shall not have to engage the services of Messrs Freud and Jung to administer Counselling once more.

Your rather concerned friend, SH.

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Posted by on June 18, 2015 in Detective Fiction


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Those Flocking Seagulls…

from Dr J Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:

From the Diary of Dr John Watson.

To say that I was a little irritated by my companion’s disappearance is only scraping the surface of that particular Holmesian iceberg, but to then be forced to spend two whole days trying to solve the difficulty of these flocking birds by myself, has had me at my wits end.

This morning, finding I was (yet again) left to my own devices, I made my way to the local library where I spent a rather fruitless morning going through back issues of ‘Mad Cornish Birds’ in search of clues to our feathery mystery. Unfortunately, it turned out that the phenomenon had not vanished with the night. On leaving the building at the side of a rather pretty young librarian (who had been assisting my search), a flock of seagulls swooped at us from out of nowhere, forcing me to push my new friend to the ground and leap on top of her in an effort to protect her womanly virtues.

I did offer to take her out to lunch as some meagre form of recompense, but the girl simply gave me a funny look and turned away. As I watched her walk off, I realised my flies were undone, which may explain her reaction. Then, gazing around me, I became engrossed in examining one of the dead seagulls which had attacked us – the dreadful creature was definitely deceased, but gazing into its lifeless eyes, I couldn’t help but think I’d seen its face somewhere before.

I had been back at the hotel only a few minutes, when I took delivery of another note from Holmes, this time conveyed by carrier pigeon. This in itself was rather curious – the bird did not arrive at my room in the usual manner, but appeared to have made its journey on foot. The strange creature rapped its beak on the door, untied the knot that held the message to its leg and held out the note in its beak, all the while staring at me with, again, a strangely familiar face.

Unfortunately (again), I fear Holmes has gone off on one of his ‘episodes’ and I may still be faced with solving this mystery on my own…


Whatever feelings of Irritation and Annoyance you are harbouring towards me, be assured that I possess them tenfold…you cannot imagine the turbulent maelstrom which is my Being at this moment in time –  the giant waves of virulent reprehension which are crashing on the rocky shores of my person threaten with each pounding volley to drown me in the boiling Seas of Despair and Despond…I cannot believe that I succumbed once again to the Siren Call of The Waters of Oblivion, to the seductive charms of Lethe, to seeking out the darker Roads to Freedom…but of course, all too soon they shape-shift in to our Gaolers and Tormentors, trapping us in the dingy, sordid cells of our very own Newgate – our Minds, which keep us captive, delighting in inflicting the most ingenious means of Punishment their twisted, bitter thoughts can concoct.

I shall start at the beginning…little did I realise the Horror which would ensue…It began with a chance encounter in Theosophilus Screech’s Tobacco Emporium. I was musing on the points of comparison between Black Harrington Twist and Worsted Old Shag, when I gradually became aware of a voice, penetrating my cogitations – “Why! – if it isn’t old Stinker Holmes himself!” (my habit of conducting chemical experiments even then left its often noxious impression on my clothes and hair earning me the unwelcome appellation).  I turned, to see Shufflebottom Minor’s familiar  bluff features beaming with simple pleasure  –  “Just the man I would wish to accompany us on our Expedition!” It turned out he was about to become joined in Holy Matrimony with the only daughter of one of our country’s Minor Nobility, and had planned a Last Blow-out with some of his Cronies, one of whom happened to be our friend RLS…need I say more.

I shall send you details of the ensuing Fracas once I have had a soothing and restorative Brew.

Prepare Yourself.

To Be Continued.


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Posted by on June 9, 2015 in Detective Fiction


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