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Sherlock Holmes in the 21st Century
by Ray Van Dune
~~~
The Case of the Purloined NSC Documents
Mrs. Hudson had only just cleared away the remains of a fast-food luncheon she had brought us from 'round the corner, when my esteemed colleague startled me with a question. "Watson, pray can you tell this humble student of the misdeeds of men, what so perplexes you in the incident of Mr. Sandy Berger?"
Having observed the great Sherlock Holmes for several lifetimes now, I am no stranger to his powers. But I can scarcely describe my amazement at having my thoughts read as clearly as if they were tattooed upon my forehead! I stammered out "But Holmes, how on Earth could you possibly know that bit of nastiness was indeed the subject of my private thoughts?!"
Holmes replied, softly and deliberately in his usual manner of speaking, but he used a charming turn of phrase I had certainly never heard from him before. I instantly determined to work it into my next commercial efforts at chronicling his exploits.
What he said was: "Elementary, my dear Watson."
Holmes continued: "As you were joylessly masticating your wretched cheeseburger, I observed you also distractedly tugging at the tops of your stockings. Have I not told you on occasion before this that such unthinking behaviors offer a window into the thoughts of men, but only to the observer who has attuned his senses to the accurate reading of them?"
I had indeed been ruminating on the actions of the now-disgraced (if insufficiently so) former National Security Advisor. So I was relieved to share with Holmes the exact question that puzzled me. "Yes, indeed you have, but can you now tell me how on Earth could that rascal Berger practically beat this rap altogether? Had he not at a minimum demonstrably lied to Federal investigators, the heinous crime for which the hapless Ms. Stewart did time, and for which the long-suffering Mr. Libby may yet?"
I was taken aback at the uncharacteristic bitterness in Holmes' response. "My good Doctor, please enlighten me… by what mechanism could Berger possibly be convicted of a crime, while never being at the slightest risk of being charged with one?! Can you seriously be unaware, or have you forgotten as has every newspaper reporter, that on the first day after his infamous Patron took an oath on the Good Book, he demanded and received letters of resignation from every US Attorney in the nation, with a view to selectively replacing the last few honest ones with cronies, guaranteed to overlook the skullduggeries from which Democrats have come to enjoy immunity not merely before the law, but just as importantly, in the press!"
"Then I suppose that clears up any remaining mystery," I mumbled, and began to quaff my soft drink. Again I was surprised by the coarseness of speech that Holmes apparently reserves for the subject of Democrats: "It bloody well does no such thing, Watson! There is still the mystery surrounding the true motives of Berger!"
Now, I was perfectly sure that I could identify his motivation, and felt positively giddy with the prospect that I might have seen the truth where the Great Detective had not. Regrettably, I again neglected Mum's advice to "remain silent and let them wonder if you are a fool," etc., and plunged ahead in my quest to be proven one. "Well, his motive is obvious, is it not, Holmes? What plainer impetus to his crime could there be than preserving the fulsome "legacy" of that vainest of former Presidents? Would not that precious national treasure be sullied, were it revealed that he had frittered away several opportunities to vaporize that vile murderous Saudi, whom his fellow Democrats have subsequently made an Albatross for his successor?"
"Ha!" my companion sniffed. "Watson, like you, I curse our bad luck that the first of the 9-11 "pilots" did not dive his aircraft empty of passengers into a certain office address in Harlem, and that the second, perhaps laden with Lawyers, was not plunged into that glass slab of a building on the East River, whose occupants are in the main devoted to the advancement of knavery worldwide!"
"Or vice-versa, it matters not, if only such a just fate could have been meted out to a few hundred professional thieves and hypocrites, instead of such protracted agony to thousands of innocents!" Holmes may speak floridly, but he knows how to make a point.
"Sadly, the attention span of the American public has lapsed thrice over or more since the tragedy occurred, and culpability for it has been villainously sown in nearly every place but the one where it should truly have taken root. Berger's Patron could now simply admit his mistake and claim, with some justification, that in the climate of those times most of his fellow politicians would have made the very same one. Consider that even today there are sitting US Senators who propose that America should emulate the strategies of our own most execrable Prime Minister, Mr. Chamberlain, the ninny who continues to defile the soil of England by virtue of his burial in it!"
"No, I am afraid that Bubba the First's position in the Pantheon of Presidents is as secure as a fawning press and the hosannas of preening movie stars can make it, which in today's world means it is as sound as Gibraltar."
"Given these sad realities, I must conclude that there was some far greater game afoot than we have yet perceived in this matter. The Democrats' frenzied efforts to, as it were, "Win one for the Groper", seem to have merely been staged for the benefit of the naïf's among us. Nothing could be more certain than that these poseurs value their reputations only insofar as it will serve to cloak their deceits."
I protested to Holmes "But, of those who were present at the National Security Council meetings, and so could have left evidence of their fecklessness in the margins of these documents, surely all are either dead or have retired from the labors of attaining political glory?"
I had to add "True, I can name one Democrat of that vintage who is lamentably neither dead nor retired, but surely even that fool must have known that during a Democrat administration, he had better remain silent on his peanut plantation, lest he lose any more allies or embassies while his party holds office!"
Even as I spoke these last words, I saw that Holmes had closed his eyes and traveled to some inward sanctum of thought, and that he had ceased to be aware of the comparative simpleton who sat before him. But as I prepared to rise for a stroll pending his eventual return to this world, Holmes suddenly exclaimed "Ha!" and awoke. Evidently those with his powers of the intellect need not tarry long in the land of contemplation.
With his first words Holmes demonstrated the acumen for which he has justly earned his immortality, and the right to insist that Mrs. Hudson and I be allowed to accompany him on that long journey. But I digress.
Holmes now spoke: "It is clear as crystal to me, my good friend! You will note that having eliminated the motive of protecting any who were entitled and required to participate in those NSC meetings, especially as they and their political aspirations have died away, we are inexorably drawn toward one stunning conclusion."
After an awkward silence of several seconds, I assayed "We may indeed be inexorably drawn there, Holmes, but could you favor me with a description of our destination?"
Holmes drew upon his pipe and came forth with one of his trademark perfectly-formed smoke rings. "Very well, can there be any doubt that Mr. Berger and his Patron were seeking to protect someone who has neither of the characteristics I have just mentioned?"
Holmes saw my confusion and elaborated "They seek to protect the identity of one who should NOT have been at any meeting of the National Security Council, and whose thirst for political power has NOT yet been slaked!"
"I dare say that this person argued eloquently for "kicking the can down the road", a course that would ultimately lead to disaster. Indeed, they argued for it so convincingly that their disastrous advice carried the day! And their words that will ultimately prove a curse on them are noted on the margins of the purloined documents! Nay, I should say they were so noted, until our gallant Sandbagger rescued them from the possibility of inspection by future historians!"
Indignant, I could only splutter "My God, Holmes! Who the deuce is this mystery man that the Democrats strive to protect from his own disgraceful advice?!"
Suddenly the door to our sitting chamber was kicked violently open by an obviously enraged Mrs. Hudson! She stood with one foot drawn back as if to ready to resume the kicking of things, and from her expression I feared she was set on starting out with me! Clearly, the old girl had been eavesdropping outside our chamber, when at this hour of the afternoon we should have expected to find her at the neighborhood bingo parlor!
In her fury, her lips at first could only move soundlessly, but she overcame this obstacle soon enough.
"Dr. Watson, you must certainly know our Mr. Holmes is acclaimed as the smartest man in the whole bloody world, but do you realize how my conviction in that is tested whenever I see him handing you his loaded revolver! You must be utterly bereft of a clue, and probably are still a virgin. Quite evidently, you lack even the requisite two brain cells that might by accident rub up against each other to create the illusion of thought!"
I sat there, totally at a loss for words. Mrs. Hudson however, was far from out of them, and she re-exploded…
"Oh, for Pete's sake — right-click on it, you old fart! There is no bloody mystery man!" Her eyes rolled back into her head until nearly only the whites showed. She almost screamed.
"Hallooo — this is the bloody Earth calling Dr. Watson! We'll have film at 11:00, but the breaking news about your friggen mystery man is that he's a she!!"
I could only croak out "A she…?" Mrs. Hudson went on "Now perhaps even you can guess why the old Sandbagger was happy to help her out of a jam, and even take that suite at the Crowbar Hotel if need be?"
"No, not for sex, you old buzzard — it was for his bloody health! He wanted to avoid that lead-poisoning this lady's ex-friends are so prone to… the kind you can catch from a .45 automatic!"
Mrs. Hudson paused for a long breath, which I feared was only a reload for another broadside. But her irritation was now dissipating, and perhaps she even felt a twinge of care that her stinging words may have wounded me. She came forward into the room, and looked down at me with pity as I slumped in my chair, more bewildered than ever.
"Dear silly old Watson, can't you see who Holmes is on about… it's Hillary!"
I cried out "Holmes, for God's sake, what say you of this?!" The Great Detective languidly drew at his pipe and produced another perfect smoke ring. His smile flashed, but his eyes were devoid of any mirth.
"Bingo!" said Holmes.
All rights reserve
by Ray Van Dune
~~~
The Case of the Purloined NSC Documents
Mrs. Hudson had only just cleared away the remains of a fast-food luncheon she had brought us from 'round the corner, when my esteemed colleague startled me with a question. "Watson, pray can you tell this humble student of the misdeeds of men, what so perplexes you in the incident of Mr. Sandy Berger?"
Having observed the great Sherlock Holmes for several lifetimes now, I am no stranger to his powers. But I can scarcely describe my amazement at having my thoughts read as clearly as if they were tattooed upon my forehead! I stammered out "But Holmes, how on Earth could you possibly know that bit of nastiness was indeed the subject of my private thoughts?!"
Holmes replied, softly and deliberately in his usual manner of speaking, but he used a charming turn of phrase I had certainly never heard from him before. I instantly determined to work it into my next commercial efforts at chronicling his exploits.
What he said was: "Elementary, my dear Watson."
Holmes continued: "As you were joylessly masticating your wretched cheeseburger, I observed you also distractedly tugging at the tops of your stockings. Have I not told you on occasion before this that such unthinking behaviors offer a window into the thoughts of men, but only to the observer who has attuned his senses to the accurate reading of them?"
I had indeed been ruminating on the actions of the now-disgraced (if insufficiently so) former National Security Advisor. So I was relieved to share with Holmes the exact question that puzzled me. "Yes, indeed you have, but can you now tell me how on Earth could that rascal Berger practically beat this rap altogether? Had he not at a minimum demonstrably lied to Federal investigators, the heinous crime for which the hapless Ms. Stewart did time, and for which the long-suffering Mr. Libby may yet?"
I was taken aback at the uncharacteristic bitterness in Holmes' response. "My good Doctor, please enlighten me… by what mechanism could Berger possibly be convicted of a crime, while never being at the slightest risk of being charged with one?! Can you seriously be unaware, or have you forgotten as has every newspaper reporter, that on the first day after his infamous Patron took an oath on the Good Book, he demanded and received letters of resignation from every US Attorney in the nation, with a view to selectively replacing the last few honest ones with cronies, guaranteed to overlook the skullduggeries from which Democrats have come to enjoy immunity not merely before the law, but just as importantly, in the press!"
"Then I suppose that clears up any remaining mystery," I mumbled, and began to quaff my soft drink. Again I was surprised by the coarseness of speech that Holmes apparently reserves for the subject of Democrats: "It bloody well does no such thing, Watson! There is still the mystery surrounding the true motives of Berger!"
Now, I was perfectly sure that I could identify his motivation, and felt positively giddy with the prospect that I might have seen the truth where the Great Detective had not. Regrettably, I again neglected Mum's advice to "remain silent and let them wonder if you are a fool," etc., and plunged ahead in my quest to be proven one. "Well, his motive is obvious, is it not, Holmes? What plainer impetus to his crime could there be than preserving the fulsome "legacy" of that vainest of former Presidents? Would not that precious national treasure be sullied, were it revealed that he had frittered away several opportunities to vaporize that vile murderous Saudi, whom his fellow Democrats have subsequently made an Albatross for his successor?"
"Ha!" my companion sniffed. "Watson, like you, I curse our bad luck that the first of the 9-11 "pilots" did not dive his aircraft empty of passengers into a certain office address in Harlem, and that the second, perhaps laden with Lawyers, was not plunged into that glass slab of a building on the East River, whose occupants are in the main devoted to the advancement of knavery worldwide!"
"Or vice-versa, it matters not, if only such a just fate could have been meted out to a few hundred professional thieves and hypocrites, instead of such protracted agony to thousands of innocents!" Holmes may speak floridly, but he knows how to make a point.
"Sadly, the attention span of the American public has lapsed thrice over or more since the tragedy occurred, and culpability for it has been villainously sown in nearly every place but the one where it should truly have taken root. Berger's Patron could now simply admit his mistake and claim, with some justification, that in the climate of those times most of his fellow politicians would have made the very same one. Consider that even today there are sitting US Senators who propose that America should emulate the strategies of our own most execrable Prime Minister, Mr. Chamberlain, the ninny who continues to defile the soil of England by virtue of his burial in it!"
"No, I am afraid that Bubba the First's position in the Pantheon of Presidents is as secure as a fawning press and the hosannas of preening movie stars can make it, which in today's world means it is as sound as Gibraltar."
"Given these sad realities, I must conclude that there was some far greater game afoot than we have yet perceived in this matter. The Democrats' frenzied efforts to, as it were, "Win one for the Groper", seem to have merely been staged for the benefit of the naïf's among us. Nothing could be more certain than that these poseurs value their reputations only insofar as it will serve to cloak their deceits."
I protested to Holmes "But, of those who were present at the National Security Council meetings, and so could have left evidence of their fecklessness in the margins of these documents, surely all are either dead or have retired from the labors of attaining political glory?"
I had to add "True, I can name one Democrat of that vintage who is lamentably neither dead nor retired, but surely even that fool must have known that during a Democrat administration, he had better remain silent on his peanut plantation, lest he lose any more allies or embassies while his party holds office!"
Even as I spoke these last words, I saw that Holmes had closed his eyes and traveled to some inward sanctum of thought, and that he had ceased to be aware of the comparative simpleton who sat before him. But as I prepared to rise for a stroll pending his eventual return to this world, Holmes suddenly exclaimed "Ha!" and awoke. Evidently those with his powers of the intellect need not tarry long in the land of contemplation.
With his first words Holmes demonstrated the acumen for which he has justly earned his immortality, and the right to insist that Mrs. Hudson and I be allowed to accompany him on that long journey. But I digress.
Holmes now spoke: "It is clear as crystal to me, my good friend! You will note that having eliminated the motive of protecting any who were entitled and required to participate in those NSC meetings, especially as they and their political aspirations have died away, we are inexorably drawn toward one stunning conclusion."
After an awkward silence of several seconds, I assayed "We may indeed be inexorably drawn there, Holmes, but could you favor me with a description of our destination?"
Holmes drew upon his pipe and came forth with one of his trademark perfectly-formed smoke rings. "Very well, can there be any doubt that Mr. Berger and his Patron were seeking to protect someone who has neither of the characteristics I have just mentioned?"
Holmes saw my confusion and elaborated "They seek to protect the identity of one who should NOT have been at any meeting of the National Security Council, and whose thirst for political power has NOT yet been slaked!"
"I dare say that this person argued eloquently for "kicking the can down the road", a course that would ultimately lead to disaster. Indeed, they argued for it so convincingly that their disastrous advice carried the day! And their words that will ultimately prove a curse on them are noted on the margins of the purloined documents! Nay, I should say they were so noted, until our gallant Sandbagger rescued them from the possibility of inspection by future historians!"
Indignant, I could only splutter "My God, Holmes! Who the deuce is this mystery man that the Democrats strive to protect from his own disgraceful advice?!"
Suddenly the door to our sitting chamber was kicked violently open by an obviously enraged Mrs. Hudson! She stood with one foot drawn back as if to ready to resume the kicking of things, and from her expression I feared she was set on starting out with me! Clearly, the old girl had been eavesdropping outside our chamber, when at this hour of the afternoon we should have expected to find her at the neighborhood bingo parlor!
In her fury, her lips at first could only move soundlessly, but she overcame this obstacle soon enough.
"Dr. Watson, you must certainly know our Mr. Holmes is acclaimed as the smartest man in the whole bloody world, but do you realize how my conviction in that is tested whenever I see him handing you his loaded revolver! You must be utterly bereft of a clue, and probably are still a virgin. Quite evidently, you lack even the requisite two brain cells that might by accident rub up against each other to create the illusion of thought!"
I sat there, totally at a loss for words. Mrs. Hudson however, was far from out of them, and she re-exploded…
"Oh, for Pete's sake — right-click on it, you old fart! There is no bloody mystery man!" Her eyes rolled back into her head until nearly only the whites showed. She almost screamed.
"Hallooo — this is the bloody Earth calling Dr. Watson! We'll have film at 11:00, but the breaking news about your friggen mystery man is that he's a she!!"
I could only croak out "A she…?" Mrs. Hudson went on "Now perhaps even you can guess why the old Sandbagger was happy to help her out of a jam, and even take that suite at the Crowbar Hotel if need be?"
"No, not for sex, you old buzzard — it was for his bloody health! He wanted to avoid that lead-poisoning this lady's ex-friends are so prone to… the kind you can catch from a .45 automatic!"
Mrs. Hudson paused for a long breath, which I feared was only a reload for another broadside. But her irritation was now dissipating, and perhaps she even felt a twinge of care that her stinging words may have wounded me. She came forward into the room, and looked down at me with pity as I slumped in my chair, more bewildered than ever.
"Dear silly old Watson, can't you see who Holmes is on about… it's Hillary!"
I cried out "Holmes, for God's sake, what say you of this?!" The Great Detective languidly drew at his pipe and produced another perfect smoke ring. His smile flashed, but his eyes were devoid of any mirth.
"Bingo!" said Holmes.
All rights reserve
