Sherlock, Smerlock!

A slightly different take on the great Detective!

     The horse's hooves echoed eerily off the brick walls of the Staggering Bucket Groggery in London, at least that's what the young detectives called it; to him, it was a roadhouse, but oh well, thought Detective Walt Haberdashery as he arrived on the scene of yet-another murdered prostitute.  He had checked Bessie out of the motor pool, another mystery name the young guys called it; huh?  True, she wasn't a racing horse like so many of the younger policemen preferred today, but Haberdashery had a lot of years on the job, and had learned that slow and methodical beat wham, bam, thank you ma'am.  True, it didn't really apply to horses so much as to the way he investigated crimes, but Bessie seemed to fit his personality.  The other day he'd taken Lightning to respond to a call, and by the time he'd gotten to the scene, he'd been so frazzled, another detective had had to investigate.  Ever since that incident he'd picked up the nickname Deer in the Headlights Haberdashery.  He had no idea what the hell a headlight was, however.  Go figure these new youngsters, with their nonsense nicknames.  He'd never understand their world; his was trouble enough.

 

 

     He bent down to examine the latest murder victim; she reminded him of a blood-covered murder victim; then he had to remind himself that's exactly what she was, no wonder!  As he was about to roll the body over onto her stomach, a dark shadow in the form of a man washed over the victim.  Haberdashery looked up to see who it was. 

 

     "Son of a b***h!" he exclaimed when he saw who it was.  "What the hell are you  doing here, Holmes?"

 

     "So nice to see you too, my dear detective."

 

     Sherlock Holmes had the reputation of being a crime-fighting genius who spotted clues when nobody else could; but to Haberdashery he was the clueless pain in the a*s idiot who f****d up his investigation.  He'd clashed on several occasions with Holmes, and it looked like this would be yet-another.

 

     When he didn't respond to his verbal jab, Holmes gazed at the body and announced, "Looks like she's been stabbed to death with some kind of sharp instrument."

 

     "Really?  Why do you say that?" Haberdashery said sarcastically.

 

     "Elementary, my dear Haberdashery; note the marks covering the victim's stomach, which would indicate repeated stabbing with a downward motion using a sharp object, most likely a knife of some sort."

 

     Haberdashery was just about to rip Holmes a new one verbally, when the familiar rotund shape of Dr. Watson appeared by Holmes's side.

 

     Perfect; Dumb and Dumber.  "I say, Holmes, I had to park blocks away and hoof it; these damn cobblestones are a b***h to walk on!" Watson spouted.

 

     Haberdashery just shook his head as he gazed upon the sloping, gleaming forehead of the doctor.  Now his misery was complete.  "Hello, Watson."

 

     "Oh, a dare say I didn't see you detective."

 

     "Gee, there's a shock!"

 

     Watson just stared at him with a blank expression, which seemed to be his only expression, and went on talking like he hadn't understood, "I say, Holmes, what do you make of the woman lying there?" it seemed to Haberdashery with an expression of perpetual moronics etched on his vacant face.

 

     "My dear Watson, it appears that a murder most foul has been done!"

 

     Before he could hurl a biting comment at the sheer stupidity in shoes, either one of them, he was interrupted by Bobby Bobby Smithson,

 

     "Excuse me, " he said, looking with awe at Holmes, "did anyone tell you that you look just like Basil Rathbone?"

 

     The two detectives and Doctor Watson exchanged looks and Haberdashery scolded, "Smithson, are you drunk again?"

 

     Holmes and Watson just stood there with blank expressions.

 

     Smithson guiltily looked away and chewed his piece of peppermint harder.

 

     "And pray tell us, exactly who is this Basil character?" finished Detective Haberdashery.

 

     Truth be told, Smithson had absolutely no idea who that was, or even why he'd blurted that name out.  In fact, he had been drinking again, and a lot.  "Oh, never mind sirs; I'll just be over here then," and he walked back up the alley. 

 

     Haberdashery, Holmes, and Watson watched him go; Haberdashery watched with a scowl of disapproval, Holmes with what seemed to be knowing amusement, and Watson with his usual look of non-comprehension.  

 

     "Now gentlemen, shall we once again turn our attention to solving this case?" said Holmes.  At Holmes's question, Haberdashery had had enough. 

 

     "What's this we s**t?  I'll get back to solving this case; you two uninvited morons will piss up a stick!"

 

     "My dear Detective, pissing up a stick would be rather hard to do," Holmes said. 

 

     "I was not serious; I just meant you idiot b******s will get out of here and quit bothering me!"

 

     Watson just stood there looking at them with his usual blank look on his face, as Holmes replied, "Neither was I, I only said that to anger you."

 

     With Watson looking back and forth between them, Haberdashery spit, "Well, you've succeeded, now kindly f**k off!"

 

     With a huff of indignation Holmes answered, "Fine, I can tell when we're not wanted; come on Watson!"

 

     Watson quietly asked, "I say Holmes, what's going on?"

 

     Holmes looked at him and replied, "Nothing, Watson; come on, I'll buy you a grog at The Staggering Bucket,"

 

     Watson smiled a huge smile and with that they disappeared into the swirling wisps of the London fog; around the corner towards the front door.

 

    Haberdashery mumbled, "finally!" and turned his attention back to the lifeless victim.  He resolved to solve the murder, and without  any nonsense from Dumb and Dumber!  

 

The End

 

      

 

    

 

    

        

 

 

 

  

 

        

Reviews

[Marie]

THis was funny, and I enjoyed reading it,but I feel there should have been more of a point made--all the little asided somehow gathered in.

[Michael Stevens]

Thank you, and I was kind of winging it; I thought up the idea, then started writing with no idea where the story was going; like all of my stuff, I guess the situation is funny to me (a pain-in-the-a*s, semi-incompetent Holmes) and not a lot of thought to finishing the story satisfactorily (one of my weaknesses!)