joanneta1

Sorry, Aurelie, never heard that expression used by family or friends, but if you say so... _ _/ _ _ _ _/ _ _ _/ _ _ _ _,/ _ _ _/ _ _ _ _ _/ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.

Nope! Not going to ruin the memory of the best holiday of my life exploring France, (Dieppe, Paris, Versailles, Cadillac, Angers, Bordeaux, Lyon, Nice, Marseilles) by getting involved in the French part of the story! "You know, Mr Holmes, I can't remember. Watson... sorry, John here, had texted that his wife had disappeared, that you had had some problems which he couldn't elaborate on, and that he and you were juggling daily life with a baby not yet six months old and a host of other troubles. I can tell you that I was sitting in here the evening before I decided to visit you in London, enjoying my one glass of malt whisky of the day, as per doctor's orders, reading the latest issue of Jane's, when Tessa brought in my evening pills, which I usually take with a glass of water before retiring for the night. We had certainly discussed the situation, and both deplored the fact that you and John had so much to do while we were practically mired in our daily routines." Sherlock swept both of them in his very thorough deduction mode, but was prevented from saying anything further by a ping alerting him to a text message on his mobile; he had left it beside him for easy access, so he grabbed it to read Mycroft's latest addition to their tale of woes: "Beaver apprised of next destination, awaits your orders, Three Continents unable to go to France due to a pending warrant for his arrest for sexually molesting a sixteen-year old during a day trip to Boulogne in 1987. Your presence required, shall inform Head of DGSE of your visit, try not to start our first war with France since Napoleon surrendered in 1815." Sherlock swiped the screen, emitting a noise between a huff of irritation and a strangled laugh. But first things first, he needed to put the events of the abduction in order and watch the CCTV footage. Anyway, he had been to Paris, in his two-year-long chase of Moriarty's web of activities, and he had helped the local police recover the portrait of Mme Rimsky-Korsakov stolen from the Musee d'Orsay by one of Moriarty's underlings for a wealthy admirer of the Russian composer's work. Still, it was one thing to deal with the Quai des Orfeuvres, a kind of frenchified NSY, and quite another to get involved with the French secret services. Not good at all!

Oh, for crying out loud, as the Americans say! Is it: "The game is never over, John"?

To his credit, the heavily disfigured man sat up straight in his chair and declared "Yes, Mr Holmes, it's true, for the first time after many years, it was the presence of Sheralyn under my roof, and Tessa's care of her charge which re-awakened feelings I had thought lay dormant. Do my personal dealings with my staff have anything to do with your ongoing investigation?"r "That remains to be seen, Major. Now, young lady, tell us what happened in your own fashion. I know that you have a quite good eye for detail, so be as specific as possible!", thus effectively barring Dr Watson from commenting on the latest revelation. The young nurse took another deep breath and launched into her account. She had given Sheralyn her bottle for the night, burped her for about five minutes, walking up and down the room to help the baby get accustomed to moving during the process, had then laid her down in her cot, set up the intercom which hung on the left postern of the cot, left the night lamp on and set Sheralyn's Solar System mobile in motion with its soothing Adagio from Holst's Saturn to lull the baby to sleep. Once she had seen with her own eyes the baby drift off to sleep, she had switched off the music, leaving both the intercom and the night light on. She had then gone down to the kitchen to make some tea, and was down to the last sip, when she noticed that the intercom didn't transmit the baby's regular breathing, as it should. She had quickly gone upstairs to find out the reason why, and had been confronted with an empty cot. Thereupon, she had raised the alarm. "As much as I like you as a person and former client, my friend and colleague here, would say you are hiding something. He was able to see three people escaping through the bedroom window, two of whom were using Russian swear words. So, you see, your story has discrepancies with Dr Watson's version that are simply not congruent. What were you actually doing after you put your charge in her cot?" Once again, Tessa blushed scarlet and avoided meeting his eye.

(Like it or lump it, Inge, we're along for the ride ) Dr Watson, who had already heard the story of the two ex-colonels from the lips of his former commanding officer ('previous' per Sherlock), climbed the narrow staircase to the first floor, where his and the baby's room was located. He could see the mess left by the three perpetrators and their cavalier way of treating HIS daughter, never mind the improbable genetic mix up. From the moment he had received this staggering news, he had been processing it in his mind: if his genes were involved, Sheralyn was his natural offspring, end of story. However, Sherlock, as usual, went into full discovery mode the moment they entered the room, flitting from bedside to cot to wardrobe, going down on all fours to examine something that caught his attention under the bed. Sure enough, he came up with a stray goosedown feather and a tiny particle from a bubble plastic sheath. "So, Mr Holmes, what do these pieces of careless housekeeping tell you?" "Why, Major Sholto, they're proof that the kidnappers came prepared to use drugs to secure the silence of anyone in the room, and that they were holding weapons they hadn't used before. The logical conclusion is that Sheralyn was very slightly smothered with one of the pillows on the bed to render her woozy without resorting to drugs: this means that the perpetrator isn't aware of her asthmatic tendencies, but is concerned about using medicinal substances on an infant. What did the local Crime Scene officer have to say about the evidence?" "Nothing of value, their team checked for footprints and fingerprints, their report should be ready tomorrow." Immediately, Sherlock whipped out his mobile phone and texted Lestrade, querying the local Serious Crimes squad's status, fearing that they would be sub-par for the truly Herculean task of locating his goddaughter. "Sherlock, if one of the three was Mary, that would make the situation untenable", reminded John. Sherlock turned to face Major Sholto and asked pointblanc: "What is the exact setup of your CCTV? We shall need all available footage from the perimeter, the grounds and the interior of the house, as we need to ascertain exactly how they breached your security." "Don't worry, Mr Holmes, I have already asked that the footage from the last twenty-four hours be saved rather than deleted, as per usual, and copied into a hard copy, so it may be examined at your leisure." "You are certainly a practical man, as well as gifted with common sense, Major. Now, I shall need ALS lighting to figure out their movements. John, could you close the curtains and bring up the special equipment which I left with Mr Sholto's housekeeper? After I have finished examining this room, we shall need a very serious talk with Tessa. After all, she was left in charge of the child, given her nurse's qualifications." Thereafter, Sherlock banished both Dr Watson and Major Sholto to the corridor and went over every surface with the special UV equipment. His characteristic "Oh" of revelation came in about ten minutes, and Dr Watson felt as if his guts were being tied up in knots.

Please, accept my apologies all around! I refuse to call anybody an owl, but from now on, it shall be "waterfowl princess"! Just got a call from a friend in France who is going to come over for the Special. Good thing I booked four seats at the Brighton Cinemaxx!

Latest s h I p p i n g is otterlock, anything weird about that? And could everyone please refer to our esteemed moderator by name or amphibian equivalent? "Ducky" is rather common, in my opinion. Our moderators work d@#!@#*"@ hard at keeping this forum running smoothly, a bit of common courtesy goes a long way, nicht wahr?

...since you don't exist!

Gladly, but not possible...

Well, if you followed BC's verbal attack on the bear, it was all about being taken for a cute otter, which was endearingly funny!

Sorry, bottom line is: read the blurb, look inside in the amazon version, and then decide to waste your hard-earned money on a repackaging of stories without rhyme or reason behind them except a few lines (couldn't be bothered to write more, the pair of them!) and a paltry introduction of no particular value or distinction! Anyone who falls for such marketing ploys, as to my eternal embarrassment, I did, cannot complain later of being taken for a fool.

Right! According to Mr Moffatt in his latest Radio Times interview, not all characters of the series made the transition in the Victorian period special, he and Mr Gatiss are in the process of writing S4, he would rather not know what his deadlines are, and, (thankfully) there will be no Thompson intervention this time, it's just him writing one episode, Mr Gatiss the other, and they will collaborate on the third. What mystified and upset me was his declaration that he had discovered the 1916 William Gillette Sherlock Holmes film, when it is common knowledge to all Sir Arthur's fans that it was William Gillette who first produced a theatre piece with Sherlock, introducing the character of Billy the pageboy, played by one Charles Chaplin, that it was William Gillette who got the notorious answer that he might marry off or even kill Sherlock as the fancy took him, who was responsible for the plot lines behind The Mazarin Stone! Nice observational skills, Billy (sorry, Mr Moffatt, I meant to say), as the character himself says in HLV!

Correct, SherlockedCamper, your turn!

Yep! _O_/_ _ _ _E_/_ _/A_ _/IN_O/ _ _IN_IN_/ _ _A_/_ _E_ _O_ _/_A_/A/ _ _A_ _

Whose underwear is it?

Certainly! _O_/ _ _ _ _E_/ _ _/A_ _/I_ _O/_ _I_ _I_ _/_ _A_/ _ _ E_ _O_ _/ _A_/A/_ _A_ _

Yep! _ _ _/ _ _ _ _E_/_ _/A_ _/I_ _ _/ _ _I_ _I_ _/_ _A_/ _ _E_ _ _ _ _/_A_/A/ _ _A_ _

Well, the BBC iPlayer for TV programmes, is available in the UK only, probably due to the whole license issue, so it's no use downloading it outside the country, contrary to the BBC Radio one, which is available practically all around the world. Continental Europe is definitely DVD-bound.

Certainly! _ _ _/ _ _ _ _ E_/_ _/_ _ _/I_ _ _/_ _ I_ _I_ _/_ _ _ _/ _ _ E_ _ _ _ _/ _ _ _/_ /_ _ _ _ _

Yes, someone called Cumberbuddy twitted that for all the latest news, Sherlock fans should follow the official thread of a convention Down Under. And he does look like a proper Sherlock Holmes in the Victorian spoof, no riotous curls needing tons of hair product, manic behaviour and (non-existent) "sociopathic" tendencies. About the only point I agree with Mr Freeman is that the Granada series had "nailed" the two iconic characters. He f•°©%•° believes that the creators who couldn't be bothered to write proper introductions to their own selection of Sherlock Holmes stories believe in them like Holy Writ! How much denser can a Dr Watson actor be, if he's not actually Nigel Bruce?

(Thanks for nothing! I'm teaching English language tests, not writing Ian-Fleming sequels,* sigh* !) The drive up to Settle was duly interrupted once they had reached the M25 to pick up Mycroft's aide who would help them liaise, and had probably been personally vetted by Mycroft himself in order to help ferret out the mole in Major Sholto's establishment: one of the persons responsible for the child's safety who had helped in her abduction. Another non-descript pale youngster with a mop of lanky blonde hair, this one wearing an off-the-peg charcoal-grey suit and a pale blue cotton-mix shirt. He reminded Sherlock of the NSY lowly staffer, so much so that he wondered if there was a mould for the younger echelons in the Moriarty web of international crime and infiltration. For the moment, however, and until he held incontrovertible evidence to the contrary, Sherlock had to trust this young aide in unravelling what had happened at Major Sholto's figuratively impenetrable secure retreat. Sherlock chided himself at the thought, remembering how he, Lestrade, John and the local police force reinforcements had extricated Anthem and Mycroft from ex-Colonel Moriarty's grip. Thankfully, the young man, after showing his credentials (Richard Sorge, by name), remained silent, allowing Sherlock to continue his mental exercise in extrapolating possibilities and eliminating improbabilities in the case. The two female DSs' practical help and the enforced relaxation of a long car journey proved of inestimable value, however, once they arrived at the secluded farmhouse-conversion about a mile outside Settle. No sooner had the driver pulled up outside the main entrance, so that Sherlock could get out of the car, punch in the agreed code to open the front gates, get back in the car and be driven to the main building, than a plainly flustered Dr Watson barrelled out of the door, closely followed by the heavily disfigured host. "Sherlock, we have got to do something, anything, she has got the baby..." "Mr Holmes, I hope you didn't save my life at Watson's wedding to see it end ignominiously, after I failed a friend and comrade so abysmally!" "What is it with you ex-military types that drives you to an all-or-nothing solution? We need concrete answers, not futile heroics!" Sherlock found it almost unbearably poignant to see his best friend in such a state, especially bearing in mind what he had to tell Dr Watson about Sheralyn. "Says the self-righteous dick who selflessly dropped to his apparent death right in front of my eyes!" retorted John. "And if I hadn't, you would not have sought solace in Mary's arms, not impregnated her, not married her! Perhaps you would have married me? Mr Three-Continents, Not Gay Watson? Stop being so selfish, John, and let us unravel this case like any other. After all, it is what I do for a living. Mr Sorge has been seconded to me by Mycroft to help in the investigation. Now, can we get inside the house, talk to the personnel and really look for all possible clues, as we should?" Major Sholto put a steadying hand on Dr Watson's shoulder, (the injured one, Sherlock noticed, using his working arm), nodded once and gestured for all of them to get in. The driver was duly sent to the servants' quarters, for some refreshment and some well-earned rest. Only Heaven knew when Sherlock might require his services again. The four men made their way to the library, with its deep, wine-coloured-leather chairs, and Mr Sholto rang for tea. It arrived promptly, served by the rather saucy blonde maid who had admitted to kinky hijinx with the Mayfly Man. It included hot buttered crumpets, freshly-baked scones and a truly imposing pound cake. High tea indeed, but Sherlock, except for loading his tea with sugar, touched nothing. After DS Pierce's ministrations, he doubted he could face solid food for at least twelve hours longer! "John, before we start on our investigation, there's something you must know: Sheralyn is both yours and ex-Colonel Moriarty's. It seems, after all, that David Inchcape had really ended his affair with Mary before you became romantically involved with her. Her real lover is the person who presented himself as James Moriarty at the flat, and quite rightly, according to his data, tried to reclaim his daughter." "A child cannot have two biological fathers, you ignorant consulting nuisance of a friend!" "Yes, John, it can. It's very rare, because the baby should have developed into non-identical twins, one yours, the other Moriarty's, but it didn't, so there you have it: Sheralyn is a chimaera." "Sherlock, you either stop this nonsense right now, or you will get another punch in the face!" replied an irate Dr Watson, and Sherlock noticed how he balled his fists, the bantam rooster always looking for a fight! "No, John, listen to me, please!"

Spider

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Dear Carol, it seems to be linked to what J.P. posted above. I especially enjoyed the Rump ole ones, myself.

Thanks! Here goes: _ _ _/_ _ _ _ _ _/_ _/_ _ _/ _ _ _ _/_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _/_ _ _ _/_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _/_ _ _/_/_ _ _ _ _