Sherlock Holmes and Violin Recital

I awoke very nearly chuckling this morning after having dreamt the following scenario. My apologies to Sir Conan Arthur Doyle.

Holmes sat on the stoop, looking as despondent and destitute as one can in a tuxedo, half recessed into shadow with his violin across his knees and an open bottle of something dreadful in his hand. Holmes took another pull from the bottle, groaned, and then wipe his mouth against his sleeve. Another man stopped only a few feet from him, also dressed formally and carrying a violin case. Holmes did not bother to look up.

“Tha was a fine sho’ we done tonight. We even ha’ someone in tha audience.” The man said with more cheer than Holmes would ever be able to muster. “Did ya’ recognize ‘em?” Holmes sighed then took another sip.

“I did.”

“Friend of yours then?”

“Arch-Nemesis.” Holmes said, reclining further and setting aside the bottle of rot gut.

“You’ve a nemesis?” The man said, growing more curious rather than taking heed of Holmes’ obvious disinterest.

“Indeed, the esteemed Professor James Moriarty, he is the Napoleon of Crime and an awful little toad of a man.” Holmes steadied himself against the railing and pulled himself up to mostly standing. His violin clattered to the ground.

“Blimey,” said the stranger.

“Yes, blimey,” Homes said, nodding as he did. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps he’d had a bit too much to drink. Why else would he still be talking to this man? “It has always been his fondest wish to see me fail horribly.”

“Tha’s not very nice, then is it?”

“You have a gift for understatement, my friend.” Holmes scratched at his scalp absentmindedly. “I fear I have granted him his wish. Tonight was a total disaster. It would have perhaps been better to allow Moriarty to kill me than attend tonights recital.”

“I dunno about that, the Quartet performed rather admirably in my opinion.”

“The Baker Street Quintet, could not have performed more poorly if we’d all been deaf and one handed. Never have I been so appalled by the sounds made by other human beings.”

“I thought we was a Quartet?”

“There are five of us.” Holmes said, surmising that he had, in fact, not had nearly enough to drink.

“So?” Holmes turned and left without answer.


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