Tag Archives: Richard Gere

Diaries of a Madman…

from Sherlock Holmes Esq to Dr J Watson:
I can assure you that Douglas is currently in fine form and in fact says you should take things easy and avoid anything which could cause the flashbacks to occur from our London Bridge episode. He has assured me that the intermittent juddering and catatonic trances will pass…he is not quite so confident that the sudden high-pitched keening and low sobbing episodes will subside altogether, but I on the other hand feel strongly that you will be back to the Watson I respect and admire before another Season finds us cogitating over another Case – you have done it before, and will do it again, as  our many spine-chilling and blood-curdling forays  to the Dark Side have demonstrated.

Unfortunately, Douglas is not quite as sanguine where Gere’s prognosis is concerned – the fellow seems to be causing him no end of worry and consternation; I have not seen young Michael so flustered since he was being pursued by that awful woman with the Rabbit Complex…you recall how he turned up at 221B many a night, with several flasks of strong spirits and a paper poke of fried potatoes, rambling incoherently and interminably about The Woman…and no, it was Not That Woman, Watson…before you start…Hudson was worn ragged fetching and carrying as his next maudlin tale demanded a concomitant Pasty or Cream Horn to aid its execution…Therefore we Must ensure this state of affairs never happens again – I could not cope with being kept awake by his thunderous and bellowing snores, like an old bull elephant trumpeting to its mate at the other end of the jungle.

As to ‘a spell in the asylum’ that particular action has already been taken with reference to our actor friend: I have been told that Gere is disturbing the other inmates with his constant Prophecies and high-pitched screeching, rocking in his straitjacket, sending darting glances up at the barred windows, talking to unseen entities and snacking on any passing insect he can find…he has managed to recruit certain of the more damaged inmates in to retrieving said creatures, and feeding them to him, much to the amusement of these poor, sorry casualties of Society’s Pressures and Individual  Blows; we do not appreciate our good Fortune enough at times, I fear, and need episodes like this to remind us of the things that really matter.

Anyway, Watson, I hear Mrs Hudson’s dulcet tones…reminding me of some inconsequential matter…therefore I bid you Good Day, and trust you are recovering apace.

Your friend SH.

PS. One of Gere’s more outrageous Prophecies is that London Bridge is to be sold to the Americas…can you believe it?! and that one day people will flock to see him in what he termed “Movie Theatres”…he Is a Hopeless Case, indeed…

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Posted by on August 6, 2014 in Detective Fiction


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Wilde Nights…

from Dr J Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:

Perhaps it is my imagination, but I suspect you may be thinking that this “doctor” or indeed some other person who has been masquerading as a doctor, may in fact be me. I am a little hurt that you could believe I would withhold such information from you as we have always, at least on my part, been on honest terms with one another. The explanation for this account of Wilde’s in any case is quite obvious, and I’m rather surprised you didn’t cotton on to it straight away: Wilde is purported to be writing a book based on his experiences of traversing the various hostelries, brothels and gin-houses of certain areas of Colorado during his recent American tours, which I believe is being published under the title of: Yank My Bone Ye Whiskey-Drinking Miners. I suspect Wilde and that ill-tempered Knob-jockey Bosie, were simply entertaining themselves at your expense, knowing that you would jump to conclusions.

By the way Holmes, I do hope you have been able to separate yourself from Master Douglas and that ‘psychic’ thespian Gere? The pair of them did seem rather affected by our recent adventures – perhaps a spell in The Asylum would be beneficial? If you require me to sign the necessary papers, let me know and I’ll be along with my white coat and a large needle.


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Posted by on August 4, 2014 in Detective Fiction


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The Mothman Cometh…

From Dr Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:


I wanted to jot down my notes on the rather bizarre and frightening events of yesterday evening before my mind insists that I dreamed the whole thing. Even now, I wonder if my senses deceived me and I was somehow a victim of one of those mass hallucination effects I have heard you speak of. No matter, I detail here my recollections…

Mrs Hudson perhaps did us a disservice with her convivial bonhomie, as I believe, had we followed our usual routine and retired to the Snug and Woofit for pie and mash, our wits might not have deserted us in quite the fashion they did. Though I cannot imagine our experiences would have been very different.

Our midnight surveillance in the shadow of the Sir Robert Peel Inn (its renovation work hiding us from passersby) was a cold and dreary affair and I was doubtful that Gere’s so-called ‘Moth-Sense’ had any bearing on reality, so I make no apologies for supposing that our vigil would be a complete waste of time. Had it not been for the amusing stories of Gere’s days with Charlie Pinkum’s Giggling Circus, Lestrade, Douglas and myself would no doubt have slept through the entire night (though you, of course, were as alert as ever, your keen eyes missing nothing).

However, I was undeniably wide awake when we were alerted to the presence of what Gere likes to call The Creature, and though I suspected he had supped too long at the bottle of Bourbon he perpetually kept lodged in his inside pocket, I could not have predicted how his quick actions kept me from harm. Even as we gave chase, I sensed the presence of danger and readily allowed myself to be led as Gere grabbed my collar and hauled me to one side in time to see the scaffolding collapse around us.

“Oi! Mothman!” I heard you shout, as we stumbled out from the mass of planking and metal tubing. Within seconds, we gave chase and followed the apparition down towards the river in time to see what appeared to be a mass of grey, swirling matter hovering above the ground in front of us. The shape took form and for a fraction of a second, I thought I could see the figure of a man – a man who looked like a gigantic moth!

The Mothman (if indeed that’s what we had seen) flew away from us, up over the embankment towards London Bridge. It was then that Gere gave a low moan like a wolf in pain. Then he muttered something that sounded like: “Oooooooh, fuuuuuuuck…” and before us the apparition whizzed across the water and…

Well, as you know, what happened next stunned us all: as we stood on the bank watching, the Bridge itself began to shake and crumble, its very foundations giving way with a deep and mournful growl, as if the Bridge was some living thing, a being that was faced with its own destruction. Oh, Holmes, I know you’ll think me a fool for spouting forth such language, but like you, I was there and I know (or at least, I think I know) that what we experienced was not of this world.

It was only then, as we struggled to gather our thoughts, that I realised Master Douglas was not with us. For a strange moment, I foolishly imagined that perhaps he was the Mothman. But then I saw him stumble out of the mist that had descended upon us. He walked slowly towards us, his face as grey as the grave, and said, “He left this,” and handed a small white card to you, Holmes. We gathered around and peered at the copperplate typeface that said: You have been Visited by The Mothman…Ner ner ner-ner ner…

No doubt you have wondered, as have I, if what we saw with our own eyes was some sort of dream or nightmare or that we had somehow been cast into some trance-like state in which we, all four of us (since Douglas had fallen foul of the Scaffold), been privy to some wretched foretelling of the future. Even now, as I stand here on the banks of the Thames writing these strange words, it is hard to accept as true that London Bridge is still standing, proud in its glory, British to its core, stone upon stone (you get the picture).

I shall not be sending my account of this episode to The Strand, since I consider it might tarnish our reputation somewhat.

I shall pop round later when I’m feeling more myself.

Tired and emotionally yours


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Posted by on July 20, 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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Don’t Go into the Light…

From Dr Watson to Sherlock Holmes Esq:

Many thanks for the cakes, countless glasses of Madeira and your many entertaining anecdotes the other day – I wish I’d jotted a few of them down (I’ve to give a talk to the Sisters of Many-a-Muckle-Mission in Legless Lane on Tuesday week and your tale about Brother Gorilla and the Convent Girls would have given them a few titters).

However, the reason for this missive is to let you let you know about a letter I received this morning: The famous American theatrical actor Richard Gere has apparently been involved in a stage play about something called The Mothman. The play, he tells me, is based on some fantastical idea about a fictional character who takes the form of (as I’m sure you’ve guessed) a giant moth that, on numerous occasions, appears to various individuals shortly before some major calamity or disaster. Gere himself is currently in London and is at this moment performing the aforementioned farce at Drury Lane twice nightly to apparently rapturous applause. More worryingly, he claims to have ‘seen’ the ‘real’ Mothman several times on his way back to his lodgings each evening and is somewhat alarmed that a real disaster may be imminent.

Obviously, I would not care to put too much store in the ravings of a slack-jawed thespian, but Gere has offered us a large sum of money if we will merely take the time to look into these sightings. More interestingly though, our very own Inspector Lestrade visited me just now – he is investigating the collapse of a church roof on seventy God-botherers near where Mr Gere is lodging and seems to think the actor’s ravings may have more substance to them than might otherwise be the case. Curious or what?

I shall pop round to Baker Street later to discuss your thoughts on the matter.

Be good

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Posted by on July 9, 2014 in Detective Fiction


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