The Shingle of Southsea Holmesian Society
Monthly Meeting Minutes
Date of Meeting: 12th December 2019
Location of Meeting:
The Sherloft, My House, Portsmouth, UK
Attendees:
"The Entire Canon" (Paul Thomas Miller), "The Blank Page" (Brenda Mannequin)
Apologies:
He who smelt it dealt it.
Presentation:
"The Entire Canon" (Paul Thomas Miller) presented two things this month:
First, this reworking of Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre: https://youtu.be/QPlpPH7VBiI
Second, this short story about the infancy of Holmes:
A Young Sherlock Holmes Story
“I have some papers here,” said my friend Sherlock Holmes, as we sat one winter's night on either side of the fire, “which I really think, Watson, that it would be worth your while to glance over. These are the documents of my first ever case, written in my own hand.”
He had picked from a drawer a tarnished bundle of paper scraps, and, undoing the tape, he handed me a half-sheet of crumpled paper daubed with indecipherable scrawlings made in wax crayon.
“I had not yet learnt to write, at the time I wrote those notes. But I believe I may be able to translate their meaning, if you are interested?”
I eagerly confessed I would like nothing more. Refreshing our glasses with whiskey and soda, we both relaxed into our armchairs and Holmes began his tale.
“I was born in our family manor in York on January 6th, 1854. I spent much of those first few days in my older brother’s hand-me-down cot which was situated in a comfortable, though plain, nursery. Apart from the attentions of a nurse maid, I had very little company. Subsequent to my arrival my parents showed little interest in me and my brother, seven years my senior, had little in common with me. This gave me an excess of time alone with my thoughts. As you know, Watson, this is not my preferred state. It was a plain cot, with little decoration to distract me. I was grateful, therefore, for the events which began on the third day of my Earthly existence.
“My father returned from work with a gift for me. He had purchased a delightful mobile to hang above my cot. It’s clockwork frame suspended cut glass gems. When wound up, the prisms would dance in the sunlight and lull me to a sleep where I dreamt of rainbows.
“You can imagine the horror upon waking from this dream and finding the mobile gone. I screamed, my father came in, found the mobile missing and launched a search. The mobile could not be found. I could only be consoled by my father’s promise that he would replace the mobile with a better trinket the same day.
“And so he did. A lantern of sorts, which, when lit, cast shadow silhouettes of local fauna around the room. The heat from the lantern caused the images to revolve so that my room was full of birds, insects and mammals chasing each other around the walls.
“Again I was lulled to sleep. Again I woke to find my prize missing. Again there were screams and searches. Nothing was found.
“And so it went on. Every day for a fortnight my father bought me rattles, cuddly toys, building blocks, pictures, playthings, music boxes. Every morning they were gone. My latest present had been a brightly coloured Jack-In–The-Box which I was determined not to lose. Clearly the adults around me were not going to solve this riddle, so I decided to tackle the problem myself.
“I cobbled together a workable burglary kit out of a bed spring, a safety pin and a pipe cleaner, taught myself to walk and waited for night fall. Once I was sure that everyone was asleep I broke out of my cot and began searching the house. As I went from room to room, I soon discovered that my nemesis had cleverly arranged all the door handles so that they were a good three foot out of my reach. With most of the doors shut, by the time I reached the kitchen, I had failed to search any rooms. As I settled down in the hallway to ruminate on my problem, I heard the distinctive creak of the loose floorboard next to my very own bed upstairs. Flying through the house at a precocious speed, I found Mycroft leaning in to steal my brand new Jack-In-The-Box. A quick scream alerted the authorities. They arrived in a trice and, when they had finished searching his room, mother and father discovered that Mycroft had been stealing all my gifts out of jealousy. By cunningly secreting them in his wardrobe, he had managed to elude capture until now.
“My father returned all fourteen toys and goodies to my cot, which was now a splendid sight. It was covered in decoration and play things. No other child, I am sure, had such a luxurious bed. So there, you have it, Watson: my first case – The Adventure of the Glorious Cot.”
I groaned and poured myself another whiskey. No soda this time.
Any Other Business:
"The Entire Canon" (Paul Thomas Miller) asked "The Blank Page" (Brenda Mannequin) for feedback on her first meeting. None was provided.
