New Adventures of Holmes & Watson
Greetings dear reader. My name is Doctor John Watson, and as you may have noticed it has been a little while since I brought you the latest adventures of myself and my friend Holmes. In truth, we had some extraordinary adventures, and it was only that I had been prevented from writing them down by some extraordinary exigencies, which I may later explain for your perusement. Suffice it to say there is a backlog of cracking good yarns for me to tell!
On the day the adventure I am about to relate began, Holmes and I were perusing some medical drawings while, out in the hall, we could hear clearly the noises of Mrs. Hudson having a terrible 'do, when suddenly there came a knockification at the door. "Open that, will you Watson," said Holmes pleasantly. "See if it is a delivery I have been expecting."
I opened the door to find a greasy-skinned, swarthy, sallow-faced individual, who immediately pushed his way through the door despite my protestations. I was dissuaded from immediate action by the fact that he was holding in his hand the wrist of an extremely sleepy-looking young woman. "Outa my way, there's a guy out there looks like a cop." He marched over to Holmes and struck a confrontational pose with his hand on his hip. "Holmes, where the devil were you? I rented a hotel room for two hours and you didn't come so I could make a movie. C'mon, let's get down there so you two can make some beautiful music." He grabbed at Holmes's wrist and tried to pull him along , but Holmes would not budge. "I'm sorry Dudley, but I simply cannot do it. I'm waiting for a delivery of heroin and cocaine so I can enjoy my famous eightballs. I see you've got your camera with you, why don't I just have sex with this young woman"- here he kissed her hand gallantly- "whilst you film us? I assure you, the lighting is totally good enough." (I should mention at this point, the Holmes I'm talking about is not the famed 19th-century detective Sherlock Holmes, but his descendant, the celebrated late Twentieth-century pornographic actor John Holmes. And in case you thought I was the well-known writer and Doctor John Watson, let me assure you that I am his grandson, at least spiritually. My legal name is actually Ned R. Feinberg, if you must know. Anyway, back to the story!)
Holmes and the woman took off their clothes, and Holmes had sex with her in a variety of positions while Dudley filmed them. It all seemed very athletic and they both appeared to be enjoying both themselves and each other. There was a lot of moaning and groaning going on. Anyway after a while they finished up with a lot of shouting, and then they got dressed and Dudley paid the woman and she left. "How'd you guys like to be involved in a crime I'm planning?" he suggested, and to my surprise Holmes did not immediately refuse but starting nodding slowly, chewing on his toothpick. Just then there was another knock at the door- of course this time it was the drug deliveryfellow, right on time. "Gentlemen, I insist you join me for one of my famous speedballs," said Holmes genially. "Afterwards we'll discuss your robbery or whatever it is." And just like that, we were embarked on another adventure! I don't remember most of what ensued, but suffice it to say I'm staying out of Brentwood, at least for a while; also I only have one thumb now!