"Arrrh, have you ever been to sea, Billy?" Captain Heelander tugged on First Mate Leonard Spock's sleeve as he came to, "There's nothing fresher though than fresh fish from the sea. Would you like to eat my fish, Billy? Arrrr! I tell you Billy, when the ship is tossing and turning on the ocean and it's a cold and windswept rainswept night, I need something to keep warm in my cabin, Billy. Will you help keep me warm beside you, Billy and I'll show you what I have down below. Arrrr!"
First Mate Leonard Spock quickly removed himself from Captain Heelander's grip.
"Well this explains why our ship's cabin boy Billy chose to face head hunters in Borneo rather than return with us to England," Mr. Spock quipped.
"This is not the only steam engine you have," Sherlock Holmes mentioned to Scotty as the ship's engineer held the exploded valve in his hands.
"No, but this one didn't work our entire voyage to the East Indies and back," Scotty answered, "I only got it working finally a couple of miles off shore from here."
"This particular steam engine wasn't manufactured by our client," Manny Morrison noted as he looked at the manufacturer's name on the steam engine with the exploded valve, "so you can't hold us responsible for this one."
"I take it that it was this steam engine over here that was partly destroyed under mysterious circumstances," Holmes walked over to the larger steam engine.
"Those look like huge teeth marks on what remains of this engine," the veterinarian Fred Clegg observed.
"Indeed," Holmes nodded, "as if something gigantic had taken a huge bite out of the engine and decided not to eat the rest."
"The part that was eaten was the part which had the manufacturer's name on it," Derek Dodd wiped his glasses in lawyerly triumph, "so one can't really prove our client made this one either."
"My employers have the bill of receipt signed by your client's company," Captain Heelander spoke as he had a pink strawberry cocktail handed him by the ship's bartender.
"Bills of receipt can be forged," Manny Morrison stated solemnly.
"And indeed, Manny, you ought to know about that," Dodd laughed then cleared his throat and looked serious when he noticed everyone staring at him.
Morrison made the Masonic motion of having one's throat slit and one's bowels disembowelled to Dodd for the verbal slip-up he had just made.
"Why is this steam engine that looks to be eaten," Holmes inquired, "why is it orange and yellow in colour while the engine whose steam valve just exploded is coloured black?".
"I'm afraid that's due to my little Billy," Captain Heelander seemed to hop, skip and jump over to where Holmes was standing, "my little Billy was a great admirer of the painter Vincent Van Gogh with his bright and vibrant yellow colours. Vincent has been dead almost four years now. I never met the man but I got to know him through Billy's talk of him. I allowed Billy to paint this engine a vibrant yellow and orange in honour of Vincent."
"Vincent Van Gogh," Mr. Spock tugged at the knob of one of his large pointed ears, "I've never heard of him."
Captain Heelander pulled a daffodil out of his pocket and smelled it, "I could have told you Vincent this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you."
"Aside from part of this engine," Holmes blew smoke rings, "you say the only other things missing on this voyage were two tons of cheese."
"That is correct, Mr. Holmes," First Mate Spock nodded.
"But this is fantastic," Holmes pounded one solid fist into his other hand.
"Have you solved the case, Mr. Holmes?" Captain Heelander pranced and danced about the room with the daffodil stuck between his teeth.
"Well, I see one wouldn't have to worry about contracting scurvy on this voyage," Holmes quipped as he observed the prancing and dancing of Captain Heelander.
"Is our client left off the hook?" Morrison and Dodd asked in joyful unison.
"What say we go and look at those cages of animals bound for Steinenfrank's Circus?" Holmes stated.
"Is the answer to be found there?" Morrison twirled his moustache.
"I suspect so," Holmes opened the door of the engine room...
... and...
... there stood the most beautiful woman Holmes had ever seen in his life.
Beautiful long dark hair. Beautiful penetrating dark eyes. A low-cut red evening dress exquisitely designed and decorated.
"Vittoria Donna Gina," Holmes gasped.
"Who?" Morrison asked.
"I believe," Dodd said as he quietly adjusted his spectacles (and his testicles!), "that Doctor Watson mentioned her in one of his published accounts of Holmes' adventures referring to her as "THE other woman". Holmes has apparently never met her, Watson wrote, but he keeps a photograph of her in his copy of Suetononius' The Lives of the Twelve Caesars at a special place on the bookshelf at 221 B Baker Street in a chair that Holmes only sits in when he gazes at her photograph. A chair that Watson remarks has some rather peculiar stains on it..."
To be continued.
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2 comments:
Hmmmm...I suspect the Captain has had his fair share of Tinkerbell and her fairy dust. Uproarous good insights into what Holmes does in his spare time.
Yes, it appears the violin wasn't the only instrument that Holmes played to keep himself stimulated and aroused. :D
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