Happy Birthday, Sherlock Holmes!
Jan. 6th, 2025 02:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stonepicnicking_okapiToday is Sherlock Holmes Day! May all your deductions be elementary!
As is tradition, I made an epiphany tart. (jams are strawberry and apricot this year) And I did a collage and a ficlet.
Title: Mistake
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Prompt: Mistake
Length: 500
Summary: Holmes gets his powers of observation tested.
I feared my plan for a quiet dinner at Simpson’s to celebrate Holmes’ birthday might be interrupted by urgent summons to Scotland Yard or perhaps a murdered personage stumbling into the establishment itself, but the snag turned out to be much more mundane.
Holmes and I enjoyed our meal and talked amicably, but the party at the table nearest to us was of a more raucous temperament. Every now and then I couldn’t avoid overhearing them and when the coffee was before us, the subject of the other table’s conversation turned to gems, real and fake, and what I had dreaded came to pass.
“Now, I maintain that the fake stuff can fool anyone, so you’d best put the real thing in a bank vault and walk around with the advertisement round your neck!”
“You would, Charlie, being in insurance and a man, but a woman thinks different. I’m certain Elisabeth agrees with me, don’t you?”
“I think I can prove your claim, Charles,” said the second man at the table. “We have an expert not an arm’s length from us. Sir? Do I have the honour of addressing Sherlock Holmes?”
“You do,” said Holmes.
“And you must be Doctor Watson. I read your story in The Strand about the carbuncle. Fabulous stuff.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, Mister Holmes, take a gander at my wife’s necklace.”
“One of the most exquisite pieces of jewelry I’ve seen for some time,” flattered Holmes, and the lady blushed.
“As befits a Countess,” quipped the other lady at the table.
“Hush, Beatrice,” said the Countess.
“Now, Mister Holmes, in your professional estimate, is that the genuine article or a replica?” pressed the Count.
There was a moment. A flicker of something across the Countess’ face, so fleeting I was sure that no one
caught—no one but myself and Holmes.
“It is genuine,” pronounced Holmes after a squint.
“Let him see it, Elisabeth.”
The necklace was removed and passed to Holmes, who gave it a closer inspection.
“Ah, even the great Sherlock Holmes can be mistaken,” Holmes said deprecatingly.
“See! Paste. Lovely, exquisite paste but paste nonetheless!” cried the Count. “Elisbeth bought it for herself, the reckless girl, when she was in Paris.”
There followed an eruption of laughter, hoots, and good-natured ribbing, but Holmes and I eventually extricated ourselves and made our way back to Baker Street where we enjoyed Mrs. Hudson’s simple but toothsome jam tart, something she prepared every year just for this auspicious day.
The following morning, a missive arrived for Holmes. He smiled and passed me the letter.
It was scented and consisted of two words of thanks but with no signature.
“Who is it from?” I inquired.
“The Countess. I did not let her husband know that her necklace was the genuine article. I
do not know who gave it her but…”
“It was given to her by someone in Paris?” I mused suggestively. “Sentimental attachment?”
“Perhaps. And a bit of insurance never goes awry. Coffee and curacao, Watson?”
As is tradition, I made an epiphany tart. (jams are strawberry and apricot this year) And I did a collage and a ficlet.
Title: Mistake
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Prompt: Mistake
Length: 500
Summary: Holmes gets his powers of observation tested.
I feared my plan for a quiet dinner at Simpson’s to celebrate Holmes’ birthday might be interrupted by urgent summons to Scotland Yard or perhaps a murdered personage stumbling into the establishment itself, but the snag turned out to be much more mundane.
Holmes and I enjoyed our meal and talked amicably, but the party at the table nearest to us was of a more raucous temperament. Every now and then I couldn’t avoid overhearing them and when the coffee was before us, the subject of the other table’s conversation turned to gems, real and fake, and what I had dreaded came to pass.
“Now, I maintain that the fake stuff can fool anyone, so you’d best put the real thing in a bank vault and walk around with the advertisement round your neck!”
“You would, Charlie, being in insurance and a man, but a woman thinks different. I’m certain Elisabeth agrees with me, don’t you?”
“I think I can prove your claim, Charles,” said the second man at the table. “We have an expert not an arm’s length from us. Sir? Do I have the honour of addressing Sherlock Holmes?”
“You do,” said Holmes.
“And you must be Doctor Watson. I read your story in The Strand about the carbuncle. Fabulous stuff.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, Mister Holmes, take a gander at my wife’s necklace.”
“One of the most exquisite pieces of jewelry I’ve seen for some time,” flattered Holmes, and the lady blushed.
“As befits a Countess,” quipped the other lady at the table.
“Hush, Beatrice,” said the Countess.
“Now, Mister Holmes, in your professional estimate, is that the genuine article or a replica?” pressed the Count.
There was a moment. A flicker of something across the Countess’ face, so fleeting I was sure that no one
caught—no one but myself and Holmes.
“It is genuine,” pronounced Holmes after a squint.
“Let him see it, Elisabeth.”
The necklace was removed and passed to Holmes, who gave it a closer inspection.
“Ah, even the great Sherlock Holmes can be mistaken,” Holmes said deprecatingly.
“See! Paste. Lovely, exquisite paste but paste nonetheless!” cried the Count. “Elisbeth bought it for herself, the reckless girl, when she was in Paris.”
There followed an eruption of laughter, hoots, and good-natured ribbing, but Holmes and I eventually extricated ourselves and made our way back to Baker Street where we enjoyed Mrs. Hudson’s simple but toothsome jam tart, something she prepared every year just for this auspicious day.
The following morning, a missive arrived for Holmes. He smiled and passed me the letter.
It was scented and consisted of two words of thanks but with no signature.
“Who is it from?” I inquired.
“The Countess. I did not let her husband know that her necklace was the genuine article. I
do not know who gave it her but…”
“It was given to her by someone in Paris?” I mused suggestively. “Sentimental attachment?”
“Perhaps. And a bit of insurance never goes awry. Coffee and curacao, Watson?”
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Date: 2025-01-06 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-07 12:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-06 10:21 pm (UTC)Poor Holmes and Watson! Cannot go out for a meal in peace :D
I loved Holmes's tact and insight.
The tart looks delicious as always!
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Date: 2025-01-07 12:39 am (UTC)Thank you!
It was. It didn't last long. We've had 6+ inches of snow and the boys are missing two whole days of school.
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Date: 2025-01-07 07:57 pm (UTC)Nice tart😊
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Date: 2025-01-07 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-08 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-09 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-09 07:17 am (UTC)The tart looks like it was delicious.
You did a great job on the collage.
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Date: 2025-01-09 03:32 pm (UTC)