Amock Comedy Compendium HTML version

"Well, there's no mystery here, Watson," Holmes snorted, "You shall know who holds such passion for you at
nine this evening."
I was stunned. "Do you expect me to go?"
"And why not?"
"But Holmes, this person sounds so vulgar, asking for a good seeing to…"
"Your paramour is outspoken, I'll admit, but one mustn't jump to conclusions. Each different person has a
different frame of reference and what a good seeing to might mean to you and I, might mean coffee and cake
to this individual."
"Do you really think so?"
"Nine tonight will tell the tale. Take a handkerchief for if it's coffee and cake you'll need one to wipe your chin
and if it's the other you'll need it to wipe your sweat."
Again, I was stunned, for Holmes rarely used vulgarities and then only in jest. Holmes handed me back the
letter and my eyes flew to the letters S.H. Could this too be one of Holmes's jokes? Generally speaking he
was not a man much given to humour
but the only alternative was that he actually meant it!
Could it be? Could Holmes be in love
with me? Was the great detective of the
Sodomite race? My mind raced as I
pondered these questions. I observed
Holmes minutely but his behaviour
seemed as normal as usual. He was
involved in a case which required
his utmost concentration and I feared to
disturb him. In any case, what
could I do, confronting him with my
suspicions was unthinkable.
I spent a restless day reading some scientific journals and after dinner
Holmes informed me that the case required him to spend the evening prowling the west end
of London in disguise and that I was not required to accompany him.
I did not see him as he left but his voice boomed from the stairway as he departed.
"Enjoy yourself, Watson!"
I could, of course, have ignored the summons, but the sense of enquiry which my companionship with Holmes
had engendered would not be denied. Consequently at eight thirty I donned my coat and caught a hansom
cab for the Pavilion.
It was a bitterly cold night and a fog was rising but they did not affect me for I was a man on a mission, I had
to know if Holmes was a gayboy.
I pushed through the happy crowds flocking to the theatre and before long was in the dark alley. Silence
awaited and a certain dread filled me. I heard the sharp click of female boots approaching me. Looking up I
saw a tall, slim woman coming nearer.
"James? Is that you, James?"
The voice was deep but female. Yet Holmes was a fine actor and such an impersonation would not be
beyond him.
"It is I, Dr Watson," I replied.
"Don't be so formal, Jimmy baby. Come and give me a kiss."
The character unwrapped her scarf and I saw a long face with a slightly hooked nose. The make-up was
heavy, but the features familiar.
"Who are you?" I croaked.