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Friendship Fiction Contemporary

March 21, 1923

Dr. Camp felt it. The years crushed down on him, leaving him with the unbearable loneliness that comes from losing one’s lifelong companions and the physical pain that an adventurous life gave him. The nurses would give him morphine, but never enough to eradicate the physical pain, never enough to ignore the loneliness.

Truth be told, the good doctor was ready to die. Yet…yet he wouldn’t. Not yet. He had one more tale to write, one more story that had to be penned before he would let himself move on to whatever came next.

“I don’t know, matron. He writes, then he rests. He writes, then he rests. All day long for the past three days.”

Matron Blume nodded thoughtfully. The doctor’s sudden resurgence of strength and spirit bothered her. She had seen it before, though. A man’s final burst of energy right before succumbing to death.

Nurse Dilling prepared a dose of morphine for Dr. Camp; he waved it away irritably. Shrugging, she put the syringe away. He’ll need it tonight, poor dear. How the man stays alive is beyond me.

The day crept on, the only sound in the small sitting room was the scraping of Dr. Camp’s pen. The setting sun filtered through cheap curtains, allowing the doctor to continue with his writing without the aid of a candle. He finally finished, sealing up his writing in a large, thick envelope and having a nurse lock it away. He gave the nurse some specific instructions on what to do with the envelope. She blanched at his words but nodded her assent.

Dr. Camp then accepted the morphine. The drug instantly invaded his bloodstream, causing his face to relax and his body to lose its tenseness. Smiling faintly, he went to bed, whistling as he climbed the stairs.

He would not wake up.

April 22, 2023

Lillith placed the package on the kitchen table and inspected the sender’s address. She began unwrapping the package as her husband came to the table with two mugs of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. Both followed the same ritual: three sips of coffee, followed by the lighting of a cigarette.

“What’s that?” Kirk watched as Lillith opened the package.

“From a law firm in London. Coombe and Tracey.”

“Well, well. And do we know anyone in London?”

Lillith shook her head, taking out the single sheet of paper that lay on top of a sheaf of papers tied together with ribbon. She read through the contents before passing it over to her husband.

“Hmm. Seems like this is from your great-grandfather. Odd.” Kirk handed the sheet of paper back to Lillith and watched as she unwrapped the sheaf of ribbon-bound papers. They were old, yellowed with age, and filled with the type of handwriting that was non-existent in this century.

“Raymond Camp. He was a doctor,” Lillith said. She wondered why she would receive something so old and unique. She had met Dr. Camp’s son, her grandfather, but he died when she was ten years old. Lillith remembered him as a jovial old man, very fat and always with a red face. Dad says he was a drunk, and I believe it. Still, a nice old man who always had a candy bar for me.

“Soooo…what’s it all say?” Kirk got up and poured out more coffee for them. He lit another cigarette and leaned back, waiting for Lillith to answer. Sunday mornings are for pleasure, and I doubt that whatever Lillith is reading is pleasurable. She seems…what...agitated? No, that’s not it. A little intensity in the face, for sure. Ah! Purposeful. That’s it.

 Kirk waited, but Lillith kept on reading – and ignoring him. With a sigh, he got up and grabbed a leash.

“Jasper and I are gonna go for a walk. Be back later, ok?”

Lillith nodded absently as she continued reading.

Yeah, Kirk thought, and I’m gonna get one of those almond croissants, and maybe even a lemon tart. And just because you’re ignoring me, I’m not gonna bring anything back for you. Ok, that would be wrong.

“C’mon, Jasper. Let’s leave mommy alone,” Kirk said. Jasper was a willing dog, ready to be hooked up and walked.

Kirk left his wife alone with her old papers. Jasper looked forward to watering fire hydrants and the odd bush. Only the four-legged member of the family was completely happy.

Kirk returned to a surreal scene. Lillith was staring into space, a glass of Scotch in one hand and the old papers in the other. She didn’t look up when the duo returned from their walk-pastry excursion.

“Um…you’re drinking Scotch at ten o’clock in the morning?”

Lillith looked up and handed Kirk the papers.

“Read this. Get a glass of Scotch first. You’re gonna need it, babe.”

Lillith walked out and stood on the balcony, staring at the back yard.

Kirk poured out three fingers’ worth of Scotch and sat down to read. After the first page, he realized that he may not have enough Scotch.

March, 1923

If you’re reading this, then that means you are my nearest living relative. You, whoever you are, will be the only person to know the truth about certain matters relating to the best and wisest man I ever knew. What you do with this is entirely up to you. One hundred years have passed, so no living soul can be hurt by anything I wish to disclose.

I was a writer, known to the world as Dr. John Watson. Yes, the Dr. Watson who chronicled many of the adventures of Sherlock Holmes. I say this with the belief that he is still relevant. Maybe he has been forgotten by now. Maybe you have no idea who he is. If not, I suggest you go to the nearest library and do some research.

It is my wish to clarify a few things concerning our life together, and to let you know of his most famous result as a consulting detective. The secrecy surrounding these events, I expect, can be done away with. At the time, it would have been too much for my friend to cope with.

Sherlock Holmes was my friend, and I was his protector. As such, I often misled the public about my role in his life, and I also made it a particular point to mislead the public about his personal appearance and his personal life.

Sherlock was tall, to be sure, but he was burly. He never wore a deerstalker hat, never smoked a pipe, never denigrated women. A necessary ruse. Sherlock hated publicity, and he needed his anonymity to be effective in his career. That’s where I came in.

We met in 1881. We began to share rooms in 1882. I began chronicling many of his cases soon thereafter. Our goal – as this was a collaboration – was that I would supplement my income through the writing of his cases while also keeping his identity safe. This wasn’t my idea, splendid though it was; Holmes had a distinct knack for manipulating events to his advantage, of which this subterfuge is a supreme example.

Mrs. Hudson was not Mrs. Hudson, our landlord; she was ultimately Mrs. Holmes. She and Sherlock had three children (two girls, one boy), and we never lived at 221-B Baker Street. They married in 1887.

Let me go further. Inspector Lestrade was, in reality, Chief Detective Inspector Bennet. In real life, he was an astute and effective detective, and the liaison between Holmes and Scotland Yard. He and the Home Secretary were the only ones who knew Holmes and his association with solving crimes that Scotland Yard couldn’t solve.

Most of Holmes’ cases were conducted with private individuals. He became the intimate of kings and prime ministers. The most powerful men in Europe called on Holmes to help them, and help them he did. Along the way, he became rich and respected. The added benefit of being allowed access to all the most important houses and halls in Europe played a part in his most famous case. The Ripper case.

Holmes’ help led to the cessation of the Ripper’s deeds in Whitechapel. Simply put, he deduced the identity of the killer with only a few clues and a lot of abduction – though I chose to call it deduction. I didn’t know the difference at the time.

The clues: grapes, laudanum, absinthe, sugar cubes, knife, brutality, strength of killer, type of woman victimized. All these clues were known to the police, and to the general public, in time. There was one clue, however, that Holmes found, one item of evidence that was dismissed as unimportant. Hay.

Hay is hay, CDI Lestrade said to Holmes. Not worth noting, something that littered every street in Whitechapel. Holmes disagreed. Holmes was right, as was his habit.

The hay in question came from a particular region in Surrey, and only a few of the wealthy families of England used this strain of hay. The Rothschild family was one such.

Holmes determined, through incessant reconnaissance and shadowing, that a groom from the Rothschild stables was the culprit. He would not, however, face a trial. When Holmes confronted him, he attacked my friend with savagery and hate. Holmes, of course, was prepared. He was always prepared.

The groom attempted a frontal assault on Holmes, rushing at him with a knife. Holmes sidestepped the man and turned to him cooly, imploring him to “give up this futile effort, man. You cannot hope to better me.” The groom rushed Holmes again, this time to be met with a sharp, efficient strike to the throat. The groom died, drowning in his own blood. Holmes wouldn’t let me try to save the man. “He is a poison, Camp. I shall sleep better tonight knowing that such a monster has gone to meet his judgment.”

That was it. Such a simple case for Holmes, yet it had tremendous ramifications.

I was shocked and saddened by Holmes’ actions and decisions, though, in my heart, I understood them. This led to a semi-estrangement that lasted for the better part of a year. In the end, I forgave my friend, though he had no need of forgiveness. He did what he considered was just; he could not be swayed from this path.

Over the course of our friendship, Holmes solved 842 cases. I published sixty of them, always careful about any detail that could identify my friend. That was my role, and I was honored to have been a part of his life.

Holmes died three years ago. My own beloved Mary had died in 1910. Mrs. Emma Holmes, Sherlock’s lovely and vibrant wife, died a mere month before her husband. I have outlived all the people most dear to me, and that is my curse. I have a daughter, but she rarely visits. I don’t blame her for this, but it rends my heart to know that she has dismissed her father as a senile, doddering old fool. I live with memories now, and ghosts that visit me all too often.

I have enclosed some details about the Ripper case that will validate my story. The proof is there, from the photographs of the groom’s collection of macabre body parts to the secret report from Scotland Yard. The very particular types of killings stopped in Whitechapel and Spitalfields when Holmes killed the culprit, further adding validity to the events about which I have written on these pages. The public was never informed for various political reasons, most crucial of which is the success of a consulting detective where the entire London police force failed. 10 Downing Street made sure of this.

My end is imminent. I can feel it, now that I have finished my last tale involving the great Sherlock Holmes. I believe that my life had worth and justification, but it is time to see what lies beyond the veil. Perhaps the Holmeses and my sweet Mary are waiting for me. Sometimes, at night, I think I hear them calling for me. All I can do is sob into my pillow and wait. The morphine helps; I can now understand why Sherlock loved it so much.

You have my blood in you; my daughter, Sarah, will probably be your grandmother or great-grandmother. I wish I could have known you, but it is not the way of the world. In my next life, if I am allowed to do so, I will be watching you with great love and affection.

The night is drawing in, and I am forced to light a candle to finish this before I retire for my final repose. I can hear the ghosts calling me to come, faint ephemeral voices that sound like the soft sighs of a lover. The voices are sweet, and I am exhausted by this life. It is time to go where I belong. Godspeed.

Kirk and Lillith sat in silence as the day continued without them. Faint sounds of kids playing and cars passing by filtered through the windows and walls. The summer sun had passed its zenith for the day, washing the neighborhood in glaring light and uncomfortable heat. Dog owners were being walked by their dogs, pausing in the shade so that the dogs could do their business and the owners could check their phones.

“We could have this authenticated,” Kirk said, breaking the heavy and oppressive silence.

Lillith nodded.

“It feels real, babe. This,” she held up the old manuscript, “will be worth millions.”

“And it’ll rock the world. The Ripper case, the truth about Sherlock Holmes. All of it.”

“The find of the century.”

“Easily, Lil. I mean, think of it. The Sherlock Holmes mythology, exploded. The Ripper case, solved. And we’ll be rich and famous.”

Lillith shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

“Yes. Quite. Or we could burn it and let the world have Sherlock as he is.”

**************

Lillith and Kirk watched the papers curl, darken, and burn. The charcoal grill glowed with the embers of the manuscript and the charcoals that had burned down to red-hot briquettes.

“You know, I never thought it possible,” Kirk said, “to love you even more.”

Lillith smiled and sliced tomatoes.

“Do tell, husband. What brought this comment on?”

Kirk laid the patties on the grill, creating an instant sizzle. Smoke curled from the patties, casting an aroma over the neighborhood.

“We gave up millions, and for what?”

“You said it earlier. Leave Sherlock Holmes as is.”

“Well, sure. It’s easy to say but hard to do.”

“But we did it, babe,” Lillith said. She began chopping lettuce and slicing onions.

“That’s the point. You gave up millions because…” Kirk pointed his spatula at Lillith.

Lillith looked at Kirk and smiled. She tossed a piece of lettuce at him. It fell on the grass and was snapped up by Jasper. He chewed on it a while but lost interest in it, dropping it by Kirk’s feet and looking up. Kirk declined to give Jasper a piece of cooked meat. Lillith gave him a doggy snack.

“Because,” Lillith sighed and gathered her thoughts about her like an uncomfortable dress, “we shouldn’t mess with it. Any of it. Let history be what it is. And besides, do we really need millions of dollars?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

Lillith shook her head.

“It might.”

Kirk looked at his wife quizzically.

“I mean,” she continued, “we’d become different people with money. We’re not the type that can handle instant wealth. Think about it, babe. We’re Americans. You’d buy stupid shit and have an affair. I’d drink and have a revenge affair, probably with the pool boy.”

“We don’t have a pool.”

“But we would. I like things the way they are. We do ok. We have a good life. Why mess with that?”

Kirk flipped the burgers and put his spatula down, facing his wife.

“Will you marry me again?”

“After we eat. I’m starving.”

The night, like so many nights before, passed comfortably for Kirk and Lillith. They watched a “Father Brown” episode after washing up. They talked about old Mrs. Johnson across the street and how they thought she might get married again, even though she was well past seventy. Kirk mentioned the new menu at work and what inspired him. Lillith suggested that he add ceviche to the menu because no one in the area served a decent ceviche.

A breeze picked up and offered some coolness to the couple as they went to bed. Lillith listened to the whispers of the breeze as it made its way through the live oaks. The smell of jasmine wafted through the open window, lulling the couple to sleep.

Tomorrow would be a new day. Sherlock was safe, the Ripper case remained unsolved, and the couple sleeping upstairs would continue to live a life that didn’t include pool boys and the purchase of stupid shit.

Some couples are just lucky that way.


April 28, 2023 11:58

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34 comments

Susan Catucci
19:05 Apr 29, 2023

Well done again, Del! I appreciate the imagination it takes to form and successfully execute an alternate ending to a familiar tale of a famous character. It's as brave and difficult a task, I'd think, as the decision-making Kirk and Lillith were faced with here. It's the perfect "I wonder what would I do" scenario. I love that you offer the reader an opportunity to consider base desires and values, and it's such an enjoyable read, well in keeping with Sir Doyle's style and grace of the times. The contrast of the world 100 years later ...

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Delbert Griffith
20:54 Apr 29, 2023

Thank you so much, Susan. Likewise, I share any and all improvements with you. The tale is tons better because of your eagle eye and your terrific insights. I feel that your assistance made all the difference. I'm pleased that you saw so much in the story, my friend. It was an idea that I've wanted to toy with for some time, and this was my initial foray into a Holmes-Ripper scenario. Fun to write, but difficult to make it flow well. THAT was where your aid was invaluable. Cheers, my good friend. :)

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Michelle Oliver
14:32 Apr 29, 2023

This is so interesting. I’m not well versed in the Sherlock Holmes stories but you write this and it feels real. The language of this missive is contrasted beautifully with the more modern vernacular. My favourite line -The night is drawing in, and I am forced to light a candle to finish this before I retire for my final repose. I can hear the ghosts calling me to come, faint ephemeral voices that sound like the soft sighs of a lover. Love the imagery and the language choices that really covey the feeling of a life well lived and a welcome...

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Delbert Griffith
14:53 Apr 29, 2023

Thank you very much for the praise and the analysis. You're spot on with the dialogue: different, for different generations. Nice catch, my friend. The moral code was a big deal, and you got that. I appreciate it. Thanks again. I always look forward to a Michelle Oliver comment. They never disappoint. Cheers!

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Mary Bendickson
06:06 Apr 29, 2023

A little historical fiction? Polished prompt.

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Delbert Griffith
09:14 Apr 29, 2023

Thanks, Mary. I appreciate that. Cheers!

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Jack Kimball
23:53 Apr 28, 2023

Hey Delbert. Sidekick indeed my dear Watson! Well, other than thinking they should have kept the money (only kidding), I think Laurel is right about the POV. Seems to go third person to first at ‘… Yeah, and I’m gonna get one of those almond croissants,’ I could be wrong but if I’m right the story could win, so maybe the edit is worth doing. Great story. Meets the prompt perfectly.

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Delbert Griffith
00:20 Apr 29, 2023

Thanks so much, Jack. I appreciate the praise, and the confidence in the quality of my little tale. Laurel is right; there is vagueness there. Too late to change, but I'll change it on my copy at home. Again, thank you, my friend. I love anything Sherlock, so this seemed like a good fit. Cheers!

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Jack Kimball
00:38 Apr 29, 2023

Have you tried to ‘Edit Submission’? I’ve been able to edit sometimes after the Friday cutoff because the story has not yet been ‘approved’.

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Delbert Griffith
09:13 Apr 29, 2023

I'll give it a try, Jack. Thanks! :)

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Lily Finch
19:32 Apr 28, 2023

Del, you have captured the true essence of the prompt. Well done. You created a life out of a previous life where both lives were excellent lives for Watson. I thoroughly enjoyed the recollection of the hay in Surrey story and the groom fighting against Holmes. Tremendous ramifications for the groom. Watson and Holmes' s friendship a bit estranged by this. Watson is alone and hardly sees his daughter. Holmes killed the culprit that the Ripper was killed by Sherlock and the Police were too embarrassed to reveal it. Watson is alone. Li...

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Delbert Griffith
23:43 Apr 28, 2023

Wow, thanks for the high praise, Lily. It means a lot to me, coming from you, a prodigious writer of great talent. Tying the Ripper case to Sherlock Holmes seemed a natural thing since he was working during this time. It has always puzzled me that he hasn't ever really been connected to the most famous serial killer case in history. This seemed like a way to intertwine the two and have a solid ending. Again, thank you, my friend. Cheers, LF6!

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Lily Finch
01:42 Apr 29, 2023

Yeah, that puzzles me too. Why would he not want to pursue investigating that case? Interesting. You are welcome. LF6

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Laurel Hanson
16:42 Apr 28, 2023

Sherlock Holmes! That is an edifice of tradition the couple wisely chose not to puncture and instead "continue to live a life that didn’t include pool boys and the purchase of stupid shit." It is nice to read a story with a couple doing their best by each other and the world. I do have one comment and I think you should ignore it completely if I am way off base. I got confused by the 1st pov and backtracked to determine it must be Jasper. Then his name was used, suggesting it wasn't. Then this: "Yeah, and I’m gonna get one of those almond c...

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Delbert Griffith
23:40 Apr 28, 2023

Thanks for the comments, Laurel. I wanted to have a story where the Holmes mythology could be blown up, but wasn't. The couple felt like it was more important to keep the mythology as is than to alter it in any way. Yes, I understand your confusion. This was actually the husband's inner dialogue, and I didn't make that sufficiently clear. I appreciate the critique. Very, very much. I will go back and change that, though it's too late for the contest. Again, thank you, my friend. I always like a Laurel Hanson comment. Cheers!

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Zatoichi Mifune
16:18 Jun 09, 2023

I absolutely love this! The way that you've turned Dr. Watson into Dr. Camp and made it 'real' (a.k.a real in their, Lillith and Kirk's, world, and not something just in a story) is amazing. One thing. Near the beginning, the nurse says 'He’ll need it tonight, poor dear. How the man stays alive is beyond me.' Does she say it or just think it? It's not particularly clear to me, sorry. Otherwise really love it!

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Delbert Griffith
16:53 Jun 09, 2023

Thanks so much, Zatoichi. I appreciate the praise and the comments. I can't remember if the nurse is saying this out loud or not. If the words are italicized, then it's inner dialogue. Thanks again, my friend. I'm pleased that you enjoyed this tale. Cheers!

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Amanda Lieser
19:25 May 21, 2023

Hi Delbert, Oh, this was such a great take on the prompt. I love the way that you leaned into the story of Holmes that we all know, but also provided a twist that was utterly delicious. I admired the moral of the story that you included, that life is now life will be, and time with friends and family means so much more than money and publicity. My favorite line was when your characters talked about marrying each other again, what a great response. Nice work!!

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Delbert Griffith
20:24 May 21, 2023

Thank you very much for the praise, Amanda. I really appreciate it, especially from a fine author such as you. You really got the theme of the tale, my friend. Quality of life versus quantity of money. Stick with quality of life, and appreciate what you have. Thanks again, my friend. Cheers!

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Helen A Smith
16:06 May 07, 2023

What a great couple! I love this story about Sherlock Holmes as I’m pretty partial to the stories myself. Your research on this did not disappoint Delbert. I don’t think I’d have had the strength to behave so honourably. The portrayal of the dying man Watson is excellent too. You captured it so well. Thoroughly enjoyed it. Totally up my street.

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Delbert Griffith
21:29 May 07, 2023

Thank you very much, Helen. I appreciate the praise, from one lover of Sherlock Holmes to another. I don't think I could give all that money up, either. Thanks again, Helen. Cheers!

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Zack Powell
04:00 May 05, 2023

What an ambitious undertaking this is, Del! Not only giving Sherlock Holmes and Watson their own personal lore of what happens "behind the curtain," but also simultaneously telling a story about a couple who seemingly lucked into a great fortune (and then threw it away!). That's a lot to unpack in just 3,000 words, and I'm really impressed you fit it all in there. Probably my favorite thing here is that story within a story element. Love the language used in the 1923 messages - felt appropriate to the time period, with all the right diction...

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Delbert Griffith
08:47 May 05, 2023

Thank you so much for the praise and the analysis, Zack. I appreciate it, especially coming from an amazing author like you. You know, I wanted to try non-italicized inner dialogue to see if it had a different (better) impact than italicized inner dialogue. I'm not sure it was the right choice to make, but I feel like I need to try different techniques to determine what works. I probably won't go back to that, but we must all try to expand our writing techniques, yes? I debated on whether or not to have the couple throw away a fortune. I ...

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Daniel Yokum
00:41 May 04, 2023

What an interesting story. The one hundred year contrast of setting and characters works so well. And I loved having the classic Watson/Holmes relationship we all grew up with be flipped around. It does raise the question of whether those living in the earlier time did indeed adhere to a higher morality in matters related to greed and acquisition. Thanks for the great story.

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Delbert Griffith
07:36 May 04, 2023

Thank you very much, Daniel. I appreciate the praise and the analysis. As for morality and greed 100 years ago, the issue is indeed intriguing. I think those issues can be debated for a long time with no resolution to the matter. Again, thank you. Cheers!

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Russell Mickler
00:06 May 02, 2023

Hi Delbert! Especially liked Watson's secret journal and confessions, and the idea Sherlock was married and with offspring no less - scandalous! I liked how you tried to loop in the couple in the future, but in a way, I think the piece would have been better trapped in 192x, with us reading behind John's shoulder, and then, like, a hospital nurse spirits his journal away. THEN we could arrive in the future, or, just leave the heirs out of it :) Liked it all :) Nicely written; I could hear an English voice out of John. R

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Delbert Griffith
08:28 May 02, 2023

Thanks so much, Russell. I appreciate the praise, especially from a good writer like you. Yes, I had considered leaving the tale in one time period. In the end, I decided to go the route I did because I wanted some tension in dealing with Watson's writing. I believe, though, that your idea might be better. Again, thank you, my friend. Cheers!

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Russell Mickler
18:13 May 02, 2023

Thank you - I always look forward to your stuff, Delbert! R

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Michał Przywara
20:54 May 01, 2023

Ha, I did not expect that! But of course, is there a more famous sidekick narrator that Dr. Watson? Seems like even back then, they had need of secret identities. Critique-wise, both mysteries pulled me in. Both the mystery of what was in the letters, and then the Holmsian mystery within. The decision Kirk and Lilith were faced with is an interesting one. Extra money is good, but a lot of extra money suddenly has indeed ruined lives. Keeping the myth alive lets countless generations continue to enjoy the stories as-is, but destroying the...

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Delbert Griffith
21:37 May 01, 2023

Thanks so much for the comments and the insights, Michal. As per, your analysis is worth reading and pondering over. Yes, the scenario where the truth is burned was intended. I expect some to disagree with it (the majority, I hope) and some to like the couple's decision. I loved Sherlock Holmes tales when I was younger, and I still like them! LOL There is something about his method that captivates me. I always felt that Watson deserved more and better ink. Thanks again, my friend. Cheers!

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Chris Campbell
06:03 Apr 30, 2023

Delbert, A letter revealing the fate of Jack The Ripper at the hands of Sherlock Holmes arrives at his great granddaughter's home 100 years later, to be read and then destroyed. I want to strangle her and her husband! It's censorship at its most ignorant. They didn't need the money, so release the information for the world to discover. You had me from the opening paragraph, Delbert. A fantastical tale that was very intelligently written and could well be another sequel in the Jude Law/Robert Downey Jr, Sherlock Holmes franchise movies. G...

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Delbert Griffith
09:31 Apr 30, 2023

LOL You and another commenter are of the same opinion: let the truth be known! I considered going that way, but in the end, I wanted a satisfying but questionable ending. I rarely write tales like this, so I decided to try it out. As for Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr., I would watch them tackle the Ripper! That would be a nice wrap-up to a trilogy. Thanks, Chris, for reading and commenting. I do appreciate what you say, always. Cheers!

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Mike Panasitti
01:04 Apr 30, 2023

This story tackles some monumental historical facts and mysteries and has a poignant central conflict: having to choose between fidelity to truth or the preservation of myth. Although I respect the anti-materialist decision made by the couple, the fact that Lillith didn't honor her great-grandfather's final will and testament left me ill at ease. Also I tend to be biased toward the pursuit of truth (if there even is such a thing, rather than an infinity of perspectives-as most post-modernists argue), so the couple's acting on behalf of pre...

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Delbert Griffith
09:27 Apr 30, 2023

Thanks so much for the comments and the critique, Mike. I always appreciate your insights; they give me lots to think on. I think her deceased relative left the decision up to her, and that was the crux of the plot. He labored his entire adult life hiding the truth from the public, and he wanted her to have the choice between revealing the real Sherlock Holmes or in preserving the mythology. Unlike your latest tale, this one doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of recognition. I wanted to write it because no one (to my knowledge) has ...

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