Oh Sherlock Where Art Thou?

Oh Sherlock, Where Art Thou?—George E Davis

  Jenkins’ Bookstore on Main Street in Bickford, Maine is a place where Sidney McDonald spends much of his time. He is, to state a too familiar phrase, a voracious reader of mystery novels; especially the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.

  “Morning, Sidney,” Rose Devons, the clerk said.

  “Morning, Rose, how’ve you been?”

  “Since yesterday when you were in here, Sidney? I’m fine.”

  Sidney knew the self-service aisle was where the works of Sherlock Holmes would be found. He checked under titles first, and then under author. There were no books about the famous detective in sight.

  He said to no one in particular, “Where are the books on Sherlock Holmes? They have always been in this aisle.” 

 “Hello.” It was the voice of a young woman who was suddenly standing beside Sidney. He didn’t hear her come up the aisle. He did notice she was very slender; It couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. She was wearing nineteenth century clothing.  

  “Hello,” Sidney said and continued to search for Sherlock Holmes. 

  “I’m new in town. Maybe you could help me,” she said. 

  “I’ll try. What is it you are looking for?” 

  “The Hound of the Baskervilles by Conan Doyle,” Sidney told her of his plight to find anything Sherlock, and how they must have moved the said books. 

  “I’m Sidney McDonald, Miss.” 

  “Nice to meet you, Sidney. My name is Irene Adler.” 

  Sidney thought, why does that name sounds so familiar? I’ve heard that name somewhere before. It can’t be the same Irene Adler in the Sherlock Holmes’ mysteries.

  Sidney asked, “Have I met you before, Miss Adler?” 

  “Probably, if you are a Sherlock Holmes devotee.” 

  “How so? I mean, what does Sherlock have to do with you?” 

  “He and I are old friends.” Sidney thought, she must also be a reader of Doyle’s fictitional detective. 

  “I’m a devoted fan as well.”

  “I’m not a fan of Sherlock. I am an equally intelligent foe.” That statement baffled Sidney.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Adler.”

  “I mean, I’ve been looking for Sherlock Holmes for years, yes, over one-hundred years to be precise.”

  How could this thirty something year old woman have been looking for Sherlock Holmes for over a century? It’s impossible.

  “Would you like to know my plight, Sidney?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you see, in 1889 Sherlock, and I met on the streets of London. He came to my house searching for a paper to free his client of assumed blackmail on my part. I followed him, dressed more male than female down Baker Street. As I brushed against him, I said my hellos. 

  Later, I married, and on my honeymoon, I destroyed the papers he was looking for. 

  I have been searching for him all these years hoping to—well—Sherlock is a very handsome fellow, Sidney. My husband died a long time ago. Can you understand?” 

  “I do, but what I don’t understand is how a fictional character, like yourself, can come alive in a bookstore and talk to me.” 

  “I don’t understand it either, but here I am, Sidney.” 

  “Wait here, Miss Adler.” 

  “Where would I go? I must find, Sherlock.” 

  Sidney went over to the desk and talked with Rose. “You got a minute, Rose? I want to show you something in the self-service aisle.” They went over to the aisle, and Sidney said, “Miss Adler, Rose Devons.”

  “Who are you talking to, Sidney? There is no one here but you and I.”

  “Can’t you see, Miss Adler. She’s standing right there.” He pointed to where Irene Adler was standing, a smile on her face. “She can’t see me, Sidney.”

  “Are you all right, Sidney?” Rose asked.

  “Perfectly, just having a little fun with you, Rose.” 

  “I really don’t have time for fun, Sidney. I am very busy.” She turned and left. 

  “Why didn’t you tell me, you were invisible?” 

  “You didn’t ask.” 

  “Now, you’ve made me look like a fool.” 

  “I am truly sorry, Sidney. It was not my intention. I need your help in finding, Sherlock.” 

  “How can I help? As far as I’m concerned, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character.” 

  “That fact being established, I need your help just the same. Find me the Hound of the Baskervilles, and that will help me find Sherlock. I read Doctor Watson’s account, and I know I can catch up with both at Baskerville Hall.”  

  Sidney agreed to help Irene Adler find her beloved detective. 

  “He’s not on this aisle, though I must say he was until today. They have moved him to another section of the store.”

  “Does that silly looking clerk know where they put him? Can you ask her?”

 Sidney asked Rose where she had put the works of Conan Doyle. She said, all books pertaining to Sherlock Holmes have been sold; she is without any at the moment. 

  “I can’t help it if the store has sold out all their copies. She said they’d be getting more in tomorrow.” 

  “I guess I can wait one more day, Sidney. Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t like being alone.” 

  “I can’t stay all night in this store. They wouldn’t permit it.” 

  “Go into the toilet, close the door, and wait, they will lock up, and you’ll be left inside. Please, please, Sidney.” Her plea was so touching. Sid did as Irene suggested. 

  “Sidney, Sidney,” Irene shook Sidney. “Wake up, wake up.” 

  “Huh? Where am—“ 

  “You’ve been asleep? Five minutes ago I heard a truck back up to the door and I saw a man drop a wire-enclosed bundle. It must be the books we’re looking for, Sidney.” 

  “You’re looking for; I'm too tired to think.” 

  “Come on, unlock the front door and bring in the bundle,” she said. 

  “May I remind you. I don’t work here.” 

  “Come on, I need to find Sherlock. And I have a feeling he is in that bundle.” 

  Sidney opened the front door; brought in the bundle. 

  “I don’t have any cutters.” 

  “Look in that drawer over there, the one with the pearl knob.” Sidney found a pair of pliers. 

  “Here it is, Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles.” He laid the book on the desk. 

  “Yes, that’s the story I’ve been waiting for, Sidney.” She opened to the first page, smiled at Sidney and disappeared. She left behind a note addressed to Sidney McDonald. 

  Dear Sidney, I shall ever be in your debt for helping me find Sherlock. May you find your love in the book of your choice, Irene Adler. 

  Sidney left the store, locking it as he went. Rose would be guessing what happened in her store for a long, long time. 

  “Well, Watson, it seems Sir Henry has two new visitors. One is the beautiful Irene Adler.” 

  “I know she is the only woman you ever gave a second look at; you are enamored with her even though you may pretend not to care for her on any other woman.” 

  “Come on, Watson,” Holmes avoided his friend’s comment. “Who is the second visitor to Baskerville Hall?” 

  “A stranger; a Sidney McDonald, an American from a state called, Maine.” 

  Warning, if you go looking for your favorite book character, you may end up in their novel. 

  If you are of the persuasion, you’d rather live your story, go to your favorite bookstore and lose yourself in the pages of a great novel.