Written by matwil

Tuesday, 9 June 2009

image for Professor Moriarty and the Cabinet Murders [continued] Nurse Florence Tightinhale of St. Paddington's

As Sherlock Holmes came to in the Musician's' Ward in St. Paddington's hospital, in Darkest Belgravia, he was for a second puzzled about his whereabouts. 'Watson', he said to that doctor, who was examining the chest of a female nurse in the corner of the room, 'stop what you're doing, we need to get back to finding Moriarty.'

'But Holmes', Dr Watson said, as the girl put her blouse back on, 'surely the trail has gone cold, as cold as a Chancellor's heart?' 'Nay, Watson, 'tis quite simple. The four Cabinet murders all took place in the West of the city, and I know who did them!'

'Astounding!' 'Let us make our way to Whitehall!', and pausing merely to examine the nurse's chest himself, to give a second opinion, Sherlock Holmes left the hospital with Dr Watson.

Struggling to fit the hospital into a Hansom cab, Watson said 'This is a bit heavy, you know', and 'Forget about the hospital, Watson', Holmes rejoindered, 'there is no thyme to lose', so leaving the hospital beside the road, with the sprig of thyme on top of it, the pair were soon arriving at Whitehall.

'See those pieces of news items on the pavement, Watson?' 'No.' 'Use this', and he passed the doctor a Hubble telescope. 'Ah, yes, little bits of news items, Holmes.' 'Yes, let us follow them to find whence they came from', and they slowly walked along the street to a house with a shiny black door.

'Great backstabbing left-wingers of labour!', gasped Dr Watson, for they had arrived at Number 10, Downing Street, 'what can this mean?' 'Let us go in, and I shall unmask the villain.' 'What if he's not wearing a mask?' 'Then I shall hire one from Ye Maske Shoppe of Shaftesbury Avenue', and the two went into the Cabinet room.

'Now what?', asked Dr Watson. 'The murders of four Cabinet Ministers, their careers ended unceremoniously and regrettably, and sadly and tragically, and non-dis-ex-pee-ally-dociously here, was done by this very Minister', Sherlock Holmes said, pointing to someone arranging some flowers in the corner of the room.

'Yes', he continued, 'it was you, Lord Fauntelroy, was it not? Or should I say - Professor Moriarty!!', and the sinister Moriarity put down some gladiolas, and cowered away into the corner.

'It was you that forced not one but four Ministers's -' 'One 's' too many, Holmes.' 'Thank you. Ministers' careers to end, killing them with carefully-leaked poisonous rumours, it was you who used the newspapers to end their short stays in this building.'

'It was you, you, you, yodellay hee hoo, who knew they would boo at you and moo, and generally make lots of weird animal noises at you, was it not?'

'But how did you work it out, Holmes?' 'Who else could it have been? Only someone who wanted to destroy their own political party and its Ministers could have done such a thing. And pretending to be a Lord while hatching his malevolent schemes was the perfect cover. But it was the pot of Peruvian marmalade that gave me the first definite clue.'

'When I was examining that girl's chest in the hospital, Watson, that was not mere ogling and leering and drooling and tongue-hanging-outting, oh no.' 'It was with me.' 'I had spotted a tiny jar of marmalade in that young lady's underclothing, marked 'Moriarty Is Pretending To Be A Lord And Killing Cabinet Ministers In Downing Street Marmalades, Peru', on the label.

'Now let us call Lestrade, and leave this miserable, insufferable wretch to his own terrible fate.' 'The gallows?' 'Worse, Watson, a fate worse than death, having to go and stay in the House of Lords again. Come, our work is done', and the two left Number 10, Downing Street, leaving Moriarty in the hands of London's one and only beat copper, Sergeant O'Bese of Scotland Yard.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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