THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC
Our story begins in the London flat shared by the famed Scotland Yard detective, Sherlock Bones and his companion, Dr. Watkins.
“Oh! I say, Bones, I thoroughly enjoyed that write up about you in the magazine section of the Sunday ‘London Times‘,” gushed Dr. Watkins. “It’s about time too! You definitely are the MOST INTERESTING CHARACTER I know!”
“Such is the PRICE OF FAME, I’m afraid,” said Bones dismissively. “I‘d rather keep a low profile. When the author first approached me about doing a story, I declined the offer, so he snuck around behind my back interviewing people that barely knew me, and based the article entirely on MISTAKEN IDENTITY, innuendo and faulty recollections.”
"For instance, that hack said I was a PART-TIME GENIUS,” Bones complained patronizingly. “Clearly, I couldn’t solve my cases just by using deductive reasoning if I wasn’t a full-time genius; unlike that twit, Jessica Fletcher. C’mon, what do we really know about her?”
"Mrs. Fletcher is allegedly a substitute English teacher, who writes mystery books, and dabbles in solving crimes on the side,” Bones continued. “Did ya ever notice, no matter where she goes, there is always a murder? How convenient!! For God’s sake--I’m surprised there are any people left in her home town! I think what she’s really dabbling in is VOODOO MAGIC!”
“Watkins, Did you make an appointment for us with THE HYPNOTIST so we can quit smoking?” asked Bones, as he picked an imaginary piece of lint off his jacket. “Yep! First thing in the morning,” answered Watkins obligingly.
“You did book us with a real doctor that deals with medical or psychological disorders--not one of those street hypnotists--right?” verified Bones. “We don’t want the paparazzi to catch us clucking like a chicken, or buzzing like a bee--with film at 11:00 p.m. on Wassup Britain?!!”
“Speaking of that, what‘s up for us tonight?” asked Watkins, as he lit up his pipe. “Naughty, naughty, Watkins!” chastised Bones. “We‘re trying to quit smoking remember?” …. “I’m tapering off.” replied Watkins, with a guilty look. “Put your pipe away,” directed Bones sternly.
“Now to answer your question,” said Bones, “we are spending the night at THE HAUNTED HOUSE at the edge of Rottingham Forest.”
“OMG!! I’d rather spend A NIGHT IN THE WOODS than in that creepy old place!!” complained Watkins. “Whose hair-brained idea was this anyway?” Bones started gathering his coat and deerstalker hat together, as he replied, “Lestride wants us to check the place out. He suspects paranormal activity. The haunted house might actually be haunted! Go figure!!” …. ”Some things are better off left alone!” grumbled Watkins.
Later--Bones and Watkins have just arrived at the haunted house, and are walking up the steps to the front porch. “I see there are candles burning inside, and at the windows.” said Bones. “Yes, even I could deduce that,” observed Watkins sarcastically.
As Bones and Watkins walked up the front steps, the creaking front door opened slowly, as a tall dark figure stood there ominously. “Good evening,“ he intoned in a voice tinged with a slight Italian accent. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Alucard. I have recently returned from my travels to my ancestral home.”
“This is Dr. Watkins, and I am Sherlock Bones,” answered Bones. “We saw the lights and wondered if anyone was in the house. I heard it had been empty for at least 100 years.” ….. “Yes, it is a little dusty!” replied Count Alucard with a slight chuckle. “Do come in.”
“Have you met my special guest, Mrs. Fletcher?” Count Alucard continued. “She is an American writer in London on a book signing tour. I met her in the city tonight, and we got to talking. Jessica told me, among other things, she wanted to do research on an older home for an upcoming book, so I invited her to visit mine.”
‘What a coincidence!“ responded Bones, as he shook Jessica’s hand. “Watkins and I were just talking about you only this afternoon.“ …. “That must have been why my ears were burning,” answered Jessica, blushing slightly. “Either that or a hot flash!!” muttered Bones, under his breath, to Watkins.
“Excuse me??” asked Jessica. “I didn’t quite catch what you said.” …. “Oh! I was just wondering if your publisher sent you over here for the book signing on the theory that THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER, on the other side of the pond, as far as book sales go.
“Isn’t she just TDF?” asked Count Alucard admiringly. “What do you mean TDF?” asked Watkins. “To die for, simply to die for!!” replied the count. “Exactly!” exclaimed Bones.
"Care for an hors de oeuvre?” asked Count Alucard. I’d love one,” answered Watkins as he reached for one. Bones shook his head, “No,“ and gave Watkins “the look.” …. “Oh! I just remembered I’m supposed to be watching my diet,” said Watkins rather unconvincingly. “No, you wanted to step outside for a smoke,” lied Bones. “I did?? …. Oh! Yes! That was it! I knew I wanted to do something--just forgot what it was,” answered the flustered Watkins.
“Confound it Bones!” complained Watkins, as they stepped outside. “You made me look like an idiot in there. Besides, you wouldn’t let me smoke before. Why now?” ….. “Help me quietly push the car away from the house so they won’t hear it when we start the car,” directed Bones. “We must get away from here if we value our lives.”
“I noticed Count Alucard cast no reflection on THE BROKEN WINDOW, next to the front door, so that tells me he is a vampire,” Bones informed Watkins. “My powers of deduction at work!… TA! DA!”
“Now, we also know Mrs. Fletcher can’t be anywhere for very long before someone is killed, and the same thing can be said for a vampire,” Bones explained to Watkins, as they started driving back to London. “My odds are on Jessica. I figure ‘Voodoo Woman’ can take of Alucard with some of her black magic!! The candles are already lit!!”