Sherlock Prager

[Jonathan]

Here's a short story I thought of the other day, when I was wondering what Dennis would have been like in Victorian times....


If Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Had Listened to The Dennis Prager Show

"Watson, bring in the first caller."

I showed the woman into the room where Holmes was waiting. She sat in the chair opposite him, her demeanor betraying how nervous she was to be in the presence of the eminent detective.

"How may I be of assistance?" said Holmes, lighting his pipe.

"It's my son," the lady said. "He's been acting strange ever since he went to university a year ago, and now he's gone missing. I fear--"

"Just a moment. Watson, stop fooling around with those jars of honey and take notes. Now then, you were saying?"

"I fear my son is involved in some horrible conspiracy. The last letter I received from him said he'd become an anarchist, and prior to that he wrote he'd been convinced by his studies that there was no moral difference between Great Britain and France!"

"Of course he did. That's the university system for you, spawning future generations of anarchists. No doubt he's also dabbled in the occult by now. Does your son have any friends at school? Anyone you know who could have influenced him with these diabolical notions?"

She thought for a moment. "I remember him mention a teacher of his once. Someone by the name of Marity, Mority..."

Holmes sat up. "Professor Moriarty?"

"You know him?"

Holmes and I exchanged glances. "I must break this to you gently, madam. Your son has been brainwashed by a man who embodies the sinister motives of the university, which as we speak is attempting to subvert the empire. He cares nothing for morality or religious tradition, and he -- By jove, that's an idea for a new case: Is the immorality of Professor Moriarty inherent or is it the product of the modern university system? Watson, write that down."

The lady's face was ashen. "What can we do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I'll think of something," said Holmes, bringing the pipe to his lips. "In the meantime, I suggest you take up something to improve your spirits. Pipe smoking, for instance. I could go on about the joys of pipe smoking. And music equipment. Why, the other day I purchased the latest phonograph. It's right here, let me show you how -- "

I broke in. "Holmes, no one cares about that. Look at the lady, she's fallen asleep."

"Oh. Let her rest, the poor dear. In the meantime, hand me those notes you've written down. Perhaps I've missed something that will jump out at me."

I handed him the notes. He examined them.

"Watson, these are drawings of bees."