The Case of the Rival Detectives
“My God, Gorms, you have not had a case for a while, ” said Doctor Whatsit, one evening in the study of 214A, Bacon Street, amid the hurly burl of sometimes foggy London.
“No, Whatsit. It is because someone else has been solving all the cases, ” said Sherman Gorms,
leaning back in his armchair, like a long necked lobster.
“My God, Gorms. What’s his name?” asked Doctor Whatsit, alarmed.
“Holmes,” said Gorms.
“Holmes, my God,” said Doctor Whatsit.
“Yes, Holmes. Sherlock Holmes, his full name. Solves all his cases with the help of Doctor Watson,” said Gorms. “They live not far from here, in Baker Street.”
“Baker Street. My word. Not far from here, as you say,” said Doctor Whatsit, now pale as a phantom owl in a sack of flour.
“Quite,” said Gorms. “The man wears a deerstalker, smokes a pipe, plays the violin. Sounds like
someone created by a literary nut job.”
“Well, if you’re not going to be a private detective anymore, now that this Mr Sherlock Holmes is
solving all the cases, what are you going to be, Gorms?” asked Doctor Whatsit.
“The opposite, Whatsit,” said Gorms.
“The opposite of what?” asked Doctor Whatsit.
“The opposite of being a private detective, ” said Gorms. “I am going to be a criminal. I am going to commit the perfect crime, and you are going to help me. I am going to steal the Jewel of Burma
from the British Museum. Then see if Sherlock Holmes can solve the case. It would take a private
detective to outwit a private detective. Holmes will be publicly shamed for not solving the case, while you and I will get our old jobs back as the best private eyes of London.”
“Good show, Gorms,” said Doctor Whatsit, impressed.
“Thanks, Whatsit,” said Gorms.
Needless to say, Sherlock Holmes with the aid of Doctor Watson did solve the case of the theft of the Jewel of Burma, and Sherman Gorms and Doctor Jock Whatsit had to spend twenty years in her Majesty’s prison, a sentence that neither of them survived, due to poor health and the natural deterioration of the human body.