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Case 218: The Adventure Of The Model Son (1904)

Summary:

֍ People change over time – but when Sherlock and John investigate the fears of a friend, they find that some people can change an awful lot! And John is hideously embarrassed by some demonic horns.
Mentioned also as a case arising out of letters from a fishmonger.

Notes:

Chapter Text

[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D.]

This was one of those adventures which, strictly speaking, did not really constitute a case. Yet the outcome was rather amusing and indeed it led to that rare thing, Sherlock telling a lie. And in the end showing once more just how much he truly loved me.

I was so blessed!

My readers may remember a few years back the case of Sergeant Templar, so foully forced out of the Lancashire Constabulary and whom Sherlock had subsequently helped and been helped by (The Adventure Of The Jewelled Jumbo). I knew that he had kept a weather eye on that excuse for a police force thereafter, and I was sure although he never said anything that his recent communications with our old police friends Henriksen and Inspector Macdonald in neighbouring Cumberland had been behind the dreadful 'Hornby Castle Affair', which had erupted in the newspapers a few months back. Fraud and corruption were far from the worst things to be revealed, and the upper ranks of both the Lancashire and Cumberland & Westmorland Constabularies had been decimated.

Ironically this had led to a double bonus for two of the Great Cake-Detector's family. His second-youngest son Vane had been promoted to sergeant in Herefordshire when his old superior went north, and even better, our friend Valiant was elevated to chief-inspector. Although he still technically had three years to serve before he would normally have been considered, I was confident that they had made a most excellent choice.

Because of what I presume were police procedures the new Chief-Inspector Henriksen had to attend a short course in London before he could fully take up his position although he was entitled to call himself by his new title straight-away. It was during this time in early August that he paid us a visit, just after the birth of his thirteenth child Valerie. It was also barely a month until our planned departure date for the cottage on the Downs so I was understandably nervous that the prize of all that se.... serious happiness might still be snatched away from me at the last. Nevertheless I was delighted to see our old friend and to inquire after our godsons, his two eldest boys Valdus and Vulcan now both sixteen.

“I feel a bit odd having to ask you this”, he said, folding his muscular bulk into the famous fireside chair. “I could make inquiries of my own but as you know the police service frowns on such things. And it may be something or nothing.”

“Tell us about it”, Sherlock urged.

“It is my cousin Valentine, Uncle Vic's eldest”, he said. “As you know he married a fishmonger's daughter, a Miss Mercy Waring, and moved to her village in Devonshire. Braunton on the north coast; a wild area so they say. Her father died some years back and she inherited the business. Val could not pick up a pen if his life depended on it but Mercy writes to both me and Uncle Vic regular as clockwork. They had two sons and two daughters. It is their youngest son that is the issue here, by name of Virbius.”

He stopped noticing our surprised expressions.

“We have met the young gentlemen”, Sherlock said. “He approached us some eight years ago over the matter at Yoxley Old Place'.”

I too remembered the boy, similar in appearance to the man before us but a fraction of his build, all knees and elbows as only a teenage boy can be. And of course the case, one of our more unusual ones (and there was plenty of competition for that title) after which Sherlock and I.....

Not the time, so not the time! And someone could stop smirking like that, damn him!

“That is good”, our visitor smiled mercifully unaware of my inner turmoil. “I was going to call on him while I was down here but I wondered if you gentlemen would be so good as to check something out for me first.”

“Has he developed criminal tendencies?” I asked, worried.

“I do not think so”, the chief-inspector said. “You see, it is like this. He obtained a job at Fortnum & Mason's, the department store; although I have no idea as to what he does there I do know that it is not full-time. Last year, his father fell ill and needed expensive hospital treatment. The family would have rallied round, of course, but Mercy was a bit surprised when Virbius insisted on paying his share. It seemed a lot for someone who worked part-time in a shop and she wondered.... well.... she wondered where he was getting the money.”

I winced. I could see what Mrs. Mercy Henriksen had perhaps naturally assumed. Sherlock asked the obvious question.

“What is he like now, Mr. Virbius Henriksen?” he asked. “People change in eight years.”

(I would soon have cause to remember that particular statement).

“I only met him the one time myself”, our guest admitted, “and I think that that would have been not long after you yourselves. He was about sixteen then; so thin that I think he would have disappeared if he had turned sideways! I would as I said have made some inquiries myself but my new boss Superintendent Worton – he is all right as bosses go but like so many he has a thing about officers doing work of a private nature, and I do not want to get off on the wrong foot with him. And even if the worst is true there would still have been no crime here.”

“We would be delighted to investigate this matter for you”, Sherlock said. “We have your addresses here and in Westmorland and shall telegraph you any news. Whatever that news may be.”

I could only hope that the news would be good. But I doubted it.

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“A molly-house?” I asked once our friend had left.

“It seems the obvious way for a young man to make lots of money in London”, Sherlock said ruefully. “We shall see. We shall call on our friend Lowen – he would surely know if the young man, as he is now, had joined 'the business' – and then repair to the great department store.”

I frowned. That dratted leering Cornish ex-fisherman again. It was a damn good thing that I was not the jealous sort and that had better damn well not be a smirk!

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We spent only a short time at Mr. Laurence Trevelyan's house, although it seemed a lot longer as far as I was concerned. The fellow promised that he would make inquiries and would have a definite answer by the end of the day (although I was sure that I caught him leering at Sherlock's backside again, which was off limits to everyone except me!). And someone smirked when I coughed pointedly, damn him!

“It is good to see that you are not still jealous of our Cornish friend”, Sherlock smiled once we had left.

“He does not seem to have aged enough considering he is barely a few years younger than us”, I groused. “And I know what he wants when I see that look on his face.”

“Yes”, Sherlock said. “Hot, sweaty sex. Fortunately he has Philip for that.”

I stopped and stared at him in shock.

“But Philip is married”, I objected, “and you said that Mr. Trevelyan does not do that sort of thing.”

“Philip's wife divorced him some years back”, Sherlock said airily. “Did I not mention it?”

I spluttered indignantly.

“And that rat still leers at you when he has someone of his own?” I demanded not at all testily.

“Only because we both know that it provokes you”, he grinned. “And you are an even better lover when you are in one of those jealous rages. But you can punish me for it when we get back to Baker Street!”

And now I had to go into one of the top department stores in London with a full erection! He was definitely going to pay for that later.

If I did not die of anticipation in the meantime!

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