What does that say?
Random Holmes stuff...
Holmes sneezed and I glared up at him from the comfort of my bed. "Bless you."
"Thank you." He blew his nose rather energetically before continuing to strip down to his underwear. I had offered him the use of a spare nightshirt but he had waved a hand dismissively and said that he would be fine as he was.
"If you've caught a cold don't expect any sympathy from me." I pulled the cover tighter around me.
"You're in a mood."
"I am not in a mood!"
"Really."
I turned slightly and propped myself up on my elbow, "maybe I'm a little sore that you didn't see it fit to include me in your plans."
"My dear Watson," he said climbing into the bed, "it was simpler if you didn't know."
"Simpler!" I turned over.
"If I had come with you people would have been suspicious."
"They were suspicious I was here."
Holmes placed a thin hand soothingly upon my shoulder, "I'm truly sorry if I have hurt your feelings."
I sniffed during the following silence, "yes...well.. I forgive you."
"That's my Watson!"
"But if you think were being intimate you had better think again." He removed his hand. Despite having my back to him I'm sure he knew I was smiling.
I mentioned ages ago that I wanted to write a sort of... alternative version to what the 'Speckled Band' was really about. I'm thinking some sort of very disturbing sexual abuse, but... er... how do I explain the speckled band? How does that come into it? Mentioned this to my friend who's boyfriend is a doctor, needless to say I have no idea how to work in a little rim of red dots around the tip of someone's penis... any other suggestions as to what the speckled band could really be?
Why Holmes has a cold, I don't actually know...
'The Origin of the Snake' (sounds a bit too Darwin doesn't it...)
I can only hope that the adventure I recounted under the title 'The Speckled Band' will withstand the scrutiny of time so that the harrowing true account many never live beyond the pages of my notebook. The role played in this tale of the snake which caused the ghastly Dr Roylott's death was an impressive fabrication by my friend Sherlock Holmes, as the was the exact cause of Roylott's death. A snake does appear in this account, but the poor creature played not part in the tragedy.
The story starts in a similiar manner to the 'official' published account, only it took place later in my friendship with Sherlock Holmes. You may safely say that in the public account, dates, names and locations were altered to prevent the truth from emerging. So that no harm may come to those still alive, I intend to keep the altered names.
It was Spring of and my friend had been particularly ill with a rather nasty cold. I myself was beginning to feel the start of a similar affliction and had taken to my bed at a somewhat earlier hour than usual, you can imagine my irritation at being woken by a gentle tapping on my bedroom door at an hour that the clock proclaimed was near six. Grumbling slightly, I slipped my feet in my slippers and answered the door. Mrs Hudson, our long-suffering landlady, was standing on the landing in her night attire, a tartan dressing gown pulled tightly round her stately figure.
"What is it, Mrs Hudson?" I asked.
"I'm sorry to wake you doctor, but there is a young lady who is anxious to consult you and Mr Holmes." She replied.
"Did you wake Mr Holmes?"
"No sir, I thought it best not to."
"Thank you, I'll see to it."
"There's fresh coffee in the sitting room sir, and I can have some breakfast prepared in twenty minutes."
I smiled at her, "thank you."
She bid me good morning and went off to her own chamber. Quickly pulling on my clothes, I hurried down to the sitting room to see the young lady that had found it necessary to call at such an hour. I had no time though to assess my first impression, for as I opened the door the young lady (who I judged to be no older than five and twenty) rushed forward and gripped my hand tightly.
"Please forgive the hour, Mr Holmes. I am too afraid to go to the police and I heard from an aunt of mine who you were so good enough to help, about your kindness and discretion. Oh, Mr Holmes, I am at my wits end!" She burst into tears and pulled away from me in shame.
"Calm yourself," I replied taking her hand and sitting her down in Holmes's chair, "I promise that whatever is troubling you we can sort it out." I patted her hand and smiled gently at her. "Firstly, I am not Mr Holmes, I am his friend and partner Dr John Watson."
"Oh." Her face fell slightly, "where is Mr Holmes?"
"He hasn't been well," I explained, "but if you give me a few moments we should both be delighted to sit down and hear your story. Mrs Hudson is preparing you a hot drink and something to eat."
"Thank you, you are so kind." She smiled up at me.
I returned her smile before bidding my leave and heading over to Holmes's door.
---
Holmes's room was dark, with a small shaft of light from where the curtains met casting an almost eerie glow upon my sleeping friend. I walked silently towards his bed and leaned over him. I was loathe to wake him from such a sleep, for his sleep had been disturbed lately due to the wracking cough he had developed. I watched him as he snored slightly, turning slightly in his slumber before reaching down and placing my hand on his shoulder.
"Holmes." I whispered softly in his ear, "Holmes." I shook him slightly.
"What is it?" He murmured, his voice thick with cold and sleep.
"There's a young lady here to see us."
At this, Holmes pulled himself up onto his elbow, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "What time is it?" He asked.
"A little after six. She's under a great deal of strain, Holmes." He nodded and climbed out of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Awful." He answered honestly. I turned away as he pulled his nightgown over his head and began to dress. "But this case, if it should prove interesting will no doubt improve my condition."
Then I have this snipped of dialogue that I've no idea what to do with, but clearly they've been up to no good...
Mrs Hudson: Good Evening gentlemen, have you had a good day?
Holmes: Most... stimulating, thank you. We're both ravished and looking forward to one of your excellent meals.
Mrs Hudson: Right away, gentlemen (leaves)
Watson: You really are exasperating.
Holmes: (laughs)
Holmes sneezed and I glared up at him from the comfort of my bed. "Bless you."
"Thank you." He blew his nose rather energetically before continuing to strip down to his underwear. I had offered him the use of a spare nightshirt but he had waved a hand dismissively and said that he would be fine as he was.
"If you've caught a cold don't expect any sympathy from me." I pulled the cover tighter around me.
"You're in a mood."
"I am not in a mood!"
"Really."
I turned slightly and propped myself up on my elbow, "maybe I'm a little sore that you didn't see it fit to include me in your plans."
"My dear Watson," he said climbing into the bed, "it was simpler if you didn't know."
"Simpler!" I turned over.
"If I had come with you people would have been suspicious."
"They were suspicious I was here."
Holmes placed a thin hand soothingly upon my shoulder, "I'm truly sorry if I have hurt your feelings."
I sniffed during the following silence, "yes...well.. I forgive you."
"That's my Watson!"
"But if you think were being intimate you had better think again." He removed his hand. Despite having my back to him I'm sure he knew I was smiling.
I mentioned ages ago that I wanted to write a sort of... alternative version to what the 'Speckled Band' was really about. I'm thinking some sort of very disturbing sexual abuse, but... er... how do I explain the speckled band? How does that come into it? Mentioned this to my friend who's boyfriend is a doctor, needless to say I have no idea how to work in a little rim of red dots around the tip of someone's penis... any other suggestions as to what the speckled band could really be?
Why Holmes has a cold, I don't actually know...
'The Origin of the Snake' (sounds a bit too Darwin doesn't it...)
I can only hope that the adventure I recounted under the title 'The Speckled Band' will withstand the scrutiny of time so that the harrowing true account many never live beyond the pages of my notebook. The role played in this tale of the snake which caused the ghastly Dr Roylott's death was an impressive fabrication by my friend Sherlock Holmes, as the was the exact cause of Roylott's death. A snake does appear in this account, but the poor creature played not part in the tragedy.
The story starts in a similiar manner to the 'official' published account, only it took place later in my friendship with Sherlock Holmes. You may safely say that in the public account, dates, names and locations were altered to prevent the truth from emerging. So that no harm may come to those still alive, I intend to keep the altered names.
It was Spring of and my friend had been particularly ill with a rather nasty cold. I myself was beginning to feel the start of a similar affliction and had taken to my bed at a somewhat earlier hour than usual, you can imagine my irritation at being woken by a gentle tapping on my bedroom door at an hour that the clock proclaimed was near six. Grumbling slightly, I slipped my feet in my slippers and answered the door. Mrs Hudson, our long-suffering landlady, was standing on the landing in her night attire, a tartan dressing gown pulled tightly round her stately figure.
"What is it, Mrs Hudson?" I asked.
"I'm sorry to wake you doctor, but there is a young lady who is anxious to consult you and Mr Holmes." She replied.
"Did you wake Mr Holmes?"
"No sir, I thought it best not to."
"Thank you, I'll see to it."
"There's fresh coffee in the sitting room sir, and I can have some breakfast prepared in twenty minutes."
I smiled at her, "thank you."
She bid me good morning and went off to her own chamber. Quickly pulling on my clothes, I hurried down to the sitting room to see the young lady that had found it necessary to call at such an hour. I had no time though to assess my first impression, for as I opened the door the young lady (who I judged to be no older than five and twenty) rushed forward and gripped my hand tightly.
"Please forgive the hour, Mr Holmes. I am too afraid to go to the police and I heard from an aunt of mine who you were so good enough to help, about your kindness and discretion. Oh, Mr Holmes, I am at my wits end!" She burst into tears and pulled away from me in shame.
"Calm yourself," I replied taking her hand and sitting her down in Holmes's chair, "I promise that whatever is troubling you we can sort it out." I patted her hand and smiled gently at her. "Firstly, I am not Mr Holmes, I am his friend and partner Dr John Watson."
"Oh." Her face fell slightly, "where is Mr Holmes?"
"He hasn't been well," I explained, "but if you give me a few moments we should both be delighted to sit down and hear your story. Mrs Hudson is preparing you a hot drink and something to eat."
"Thank you, you are so kind." She smiled up at me.
I returned her smile before bidding my leave and heading over to Holmes's door.
---
Holmes's room was dark, with a small shaft of light from where the curtains met casting an almost eerie glow upon my sleeping friend. I walked silently towards his bed and leaned over him. I was loathe to wake him from such a sleep, for his sleep had been disturbed lately due to the wracking cough he had developed. I watched him as he snored slightly, turning slightly in his slumber before reaching down and placing my hand on his shoulder.
"Holmes." I whispered softly in his ear, "Holmes." I shook him slightly.
"What is it?" He murmured, his voice thick with cold and sleep.
"There's a young lady here to see us."
At this, Holmes pulled himself up onto his elbow, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "What time is it?" He asked.
"A little after six. She's under a great deal of strain, Holmes." He nodded and climbed out of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Awful." He answered honestly. I turned away as he pulled his nightgown over his head and began to dress. "But this case, if it should prove interesting will no doubt improve my condition."
Then I have this snipped of dialogue that I've no idea what to do with, but clearly they've been up to no good...
Mrs Hudson: Good Evening gentlemen, have you had a good day?
Holmes: Most... stimulating, thank you. We're both ravished and looking forward to one of your excellent meals.
Mrs Hudson: Right away, gentlemen (leaves)
Watson: You really are exasperating.
Holmes: (laughs)