#mrs oakshott

[no-side-us]

Letters From Watson Liveblog - Apr. 1

The Blue Carbuncle, Part 3

Holmes using a bet to get information has always been one of my favorite fun moments in the stories.

And while I don't want to keep making comparisons to the Granada version, I do want to say it includes funny little added bits of Watson egging Holmes on to give him the money he's owed which aren't in the original. I'll just link to the whole episode, in case anyone wants to watch it.

It seems the 'Pink 'un' was a football newspaper at the time, though I'm not quite sure how someone's whiskers are a good indicator of their propensity to make bets, unless there's some sort of football related facial hair history I'm unaware of.

Why did he even use an alias? I feel like he'd probably get more information out of Breckenridge if he revealed he was Mrs. Oakshott's brother instead of just some random guy.

In the Granada version, Holmes does this weird thing where he teases Ryder towards him and then moves his own hands up to a light where he produces the carbuncle from out of his sleeves or something, an unnecessary but much more theatrical move than just taking it out of a strongbox.

Would the case against Horner not drop regardless since the police aren't even onto Ryder? Then again, it's been a few days since the theft and I guess Horner's still locked up despite the fact he didn't steal anything, so who knows.

That poor goose. It was going to die no matter what, but at least it would have died with its dignity intact.

Oh, this answers my question. Ryder would have testified against Horner then, so that's why his being gone would set Horner free.

A very thoughtful ending to this story, and one that is certainly in the holiday spirit. It's another great example of Holmes breaking the law to save someone, even if in this case the criminal is very much in the wrong. Although I would have liked to know how Holmes was going to explain the theft to the police, but oh well.

"The Adventure of the Yellow Face"? With a name like that, I'm sure it's going to be a fun and lighthearted Sherlock Holmes mystery adventure! Can't wait.

Watson, you sell out. Where's your journalistic integrity? Using Holmes' image like that. And for an American sponsor as well!

What a fun image though. Holmes sure looks pleased.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

[mariana-oconnor]

The Blue Carbuncle pt 3

Goose Chase Intensifies!

the proprietor a horsy-looking man

Not to be confused with 'horsy men', who - as Sherlock informed us in a previous story - are quite different.

One thing I appreciate about Watson's critical view of literally everyone's appearance, is that you cannot know if a person is a villain or an innocent bystander just by reading the descriptions of them. Everyone is treated alike by his pen, even though this was a time at which people believed that "criminal features" were a thing. I suspect if I knew more about that particular "science" I'd be able to spot the criminals more easily, but I'm glad I can't.

"Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble. "Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning."

That's a lot of geese. That's an awful lot of geese. Five hundred geese? I can't even imagine five hundred geese. Maybe if I pictured them all on a plane,* but even then.

Five hundred geese. He sells five hundred geese a day? I mean, if he's sold out for the night and he's getting five hundred in the morning. You wouldn't think a dead geese would keep very long in an time before refrigeration. I get that we're between Christmas and New Year and people are buying their new year's goose and we're in London and a lot of people live in London (over 6 million), but still. BUT STILL. How does he have room for 500 geese in his shop? Does he just pile them up on the floor?

That's a lot of geese.

I suppose I did ask for more geese. Although these are only mentioned and not seen.

*I suspect no one will get this joke, but I'm going to make it anyway.

"It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha."

Oh how I wish ACD had chosen a different name for the pub.

"Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should be so warm over such a trifle."

Don't make trife out of geese, Sherlock. That wouldn't be nice at all.

"Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the geese to?' and 'What will you take for the geese?' One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them."

I love this man. He is wonderful. he's just trying to do his gd job and he's an unwilling participant in the biggest goose chase of all time!

He also deserves some of the reward for his trouble. Although, if he's selling 500 geese a day or a week or whatever, he's got to be making decent profit off that you'd think.

"If you won't tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred." "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped the salesman. "It's nothing of the kind." "I say it is." "I don't believe it."

The classic 'please settle the wager between my friend and I ploy. Excellent. And we're once again at the point of 'Your goose is in another castle'. I was hoping there were more steps to the chase.

We kind of need the Benny Hill theme playing in the background.

Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamppost and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him.

Aw, he's having fun.

"Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes. "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow."

Noooooo, I wanted you to have to run across town again to go and visit Mrs Oakshott. Bah!

The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he answered with a sidelong glance. "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward doing business with an alias." A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," said he, "my real name is James Ryder."

Seriously? It was that easy? You give up your name that easily? Spine made of silly string. You are not cut out for a life of crime, Mr James Ryder. You fold like cheap paper. You do not deserve the goose.

"Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know." The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab...

What is this? So the maid is the brains of the operation, I guess. But then you were stupid enough to lose track of the goose you fed a priceless stolen jewel to. I guess we couldn't have expected much from you in the first place.

"Pray take the basket-chair."

I know its not. I know they weren't even invented at the time. But I'm imagining one of those hanging egg basket chairs, and Mr Ryder just gently swinging to and fro as Sherlock pulls on his slippers, both he and his fate hanging in the balance.

"Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested—white, with a black bar across the tail." Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell me where it went to?"

I actually feel sorry for this guy. He's kind of pitiful. Clearly he does not have the common sense or brains to be good at crime. He's sitting here not putting two and two together that Holmes knows he's looking for a specific goose and Holmes knows his name and his job. I really feel like it must be the maid who is behind all this and putting pressure on him to find the lost goose or else, because otherwise I cannot see how he's managed this far without giving himself away.

"It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it," said he in a crackling voice.

Yep, she's definitely the one behind it all. There's no way this guy came up with the thing.

You made some small job in my lady's room—you and your confederate Cusack—and you managed that he should be the man sent for.

I don't care what the conclusion to the story is. Maybe she made him think it was his idea, but it was definitely her.

"There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds—a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach."

That's certainly an image... what the actual?

"Send him to jail now, and you make him a jail-bird for life."

I suppose some things never change. I mean, I'm not sure I agree that he'll never commit a crime again. But I can't deny Holmes' point here.

"If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature."

Holmes really is enjoying himself in this one. The joke earlier (that I didn't quote) about how the goose 'laid a blue egg', this joke about another investigation involving a bird (I assume their dinner). He's really feeling the spirit of the season.

This is probably one of my favourite stories, thanks to the utter slapstick of it all. A wild goose chase all over London, the mix up of the mistaken geese. The fake bet. It's just a fun story. A Christmas pantomime, which I can't imagine isn't intentional, as I believe Mother Goose - which involves a bet, a goose that lays golden eggs, and the owner of said goose trying to get her back, is one of the oldest pantomimes.

I still think the maid was behind it all, though. I think she manipulated him into taking it and was planning to blackmail him over it or seduce him into giving it to her or something like that. I know that's not in the text, but it just makes more sense to me than the idea that Ryder, who couldn't keep up a lie for more than two seconds under the slightest questioning, carried all of that out under no influence but his own. Holmes even calls her Ryder's "confederate" and yet doesn't follow it up.

...

And one last time, just for fun.

[j-august]

John had, by now, reached that well-defined stage in intoxication when every topic becomes the subject of exposition and generalisation, when sequences of thought range themselves in the speaker's mind, strewn about with flowery metaphor and garlanded in chains of pellucid logic; airborne flights of oratory to which the only obstacle is a certain difficulty with the palatal consonants. "Horniman, Birley and Craine," said John, "is not one firm but four firms. It is a quadernity. It is the Gordon Selfridge of solicitors, different departments to suit all tastes and purses. For the humble but well-meaning citizens of Streatham or Brixton, Mr. Brown and Mr. Baxter labour unceasingly, resting not day nor night. For the hard-faced, stern-browed moguls of commerce and industry our City offices are ever open, and the warm hearts and subtle brains of Mr. Bourlass, Mr. Bridewell and Mr. Burt beat in a mighty diapason, and their cunning fingers are never still - here underwriting a charter party, there endorsing a Bill of Exchange sans recours; and if all else palls, why, bless me, they can always fill in the time between lunch and tea by forming a limited company. In Piccadilly, those gilded darlings of fortune, Osric Rasmussen and Emmanuel Oakshott, pin carnations to the palpitating bosoms of a horde of comely divorcees and spend their time, or such time as they can spare from race meetings and first nights, in drawing fantastic leases of flats in Half Moon Street and shops in the Burlington Arcade--" "Two more whiskies," said Henry. "What do we do in Lincoln's Inn?" "I've never really found out," said John, "but it's all most terribly gentlemanly."

Michael Gilbert, Smallbone Deceased

[holmesboswell]

BLUE CARBUNCLE AUDITION EXTENSION

We are EXTENDING AUDITIONS for 'The Blue Carbuncle'!  Please have auditions submitted by February 11th. When a goose, an old hat, and a misplaced stolen jewel make their way to Baker Street, Holmes must find the thief. Head to https://iamlostwithoutmyboswell.com/auditions/ for readings for each character: - Peterson: Commissionaire. Said by Holmes to be a very honest fellow. Brought the hat and the goose to Holmes. - Henry Baker: The owner of an old hat and the wrong goose. - Windigate: Landlord of the Alpha Inn, and instituted the Goose Club. - Breckinridge: Goose salesman. - James Ryder: Attempting to track down the goose containing ill-gotten gains. - Mrs. Oakshott: The woman who raised the geese, and James Ryder’s sister.

[holmesboswell]

AUDITIONS: The Blue Carbuncle

AUDITIONS are now open for our next story 'The Blue Carbuncle'!   When a goose, an old hat, and a misplaced stolen jewel make their way to Baker Street, Holmes must find the thief. Head to https://iamlostwithoutmyboswell.com/auditions/ for readings for the each character: - Peterson: Commissionaire.  Said by Holmes to be a very honest fellow.  Brought the hat and the goose to Holmes. - Henry Baker: The owner of an old hat and the wrong goose. - Windigate: Landlord of the Alpha Inn, and instituted the Goose Club. - Breckinridge: Goose salesman. - James Ryder: Attempting to track down the goose containing ill-gotten gains. - Mrs. Oakshott: The woman who raised the geese, and James Ryder’s sister. Auditions should be submitted by January 23rd