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Pastiches, Homages & Parodies
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Sherlock Holmes vs Masterchef
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Silvio111 wrote: "Ha! Hilarious. Thanks for this!"
You are very welcome
You are very welcome
Being a reprint from the reminiscences of John H Watson M.D
The day I took up residence at 221b Baker Street together with Mr Sherlock Holmes was a day that even at that early stage of our relationship served to illustrate how single minded a man my new friend was. Hardly had he finished dictating to me where my possessions should go and where my chair should reside, when he told me of a test he proposed to put to our landlady Mrs Hudson. He called that good lady to our sitting-room and outlined this test to her.
"What I want you to do, Mrs Hudson, is to prepare a three course meal for the good Doctor and me. This can be a meal of your choosing. This will be your chance to impress us."
"Mr Holmes, none of my previous tenants have had any complaints about the fare I produce for them," Mrs Hudson replied.
"Perhaps not, but maybe their standards were not as exacting as my own. It is four o' clock now. Shall we say six o' clock then? You have two hours, Mrs Hudson. Let's cook."
I thought that Holmes's manner with Mrs Hudson was brusque not to mention condescending and patronising and in spite of our friendship being new, I wasted no time in telling him so.
"We are", I said, "paying tenants and as such the good Mrs Hudson is our landlady not our servant."
"Exactly so and I have a mind to test what just what it is we pay our money for. If the food is not up to a certain standard then we may have to dine out a great deal."
"To be honest, Holmes, on my pension I fear dining out is beyond me."
"I do apologise for my thoughtlessness. I meant of course that I would have to dine out."
After a loud and I hoped telling harrumphing by me we adjourned to the kitchen to see what Mrs Hudson was producing for us. As befits Victorian gentleman we were totally unfamiliar with kitchens in general. I, for instance had not been in a kitchen since I was fifteen when our friendly cook or one of her 'girls' would give me occasional treats; of course that had nothing to do with (Editor’s note: Here the manuscript is faded and illegible. Rather than making wild and speculative guesses as to Watson's words here I have decided to leave a blank. The reader however is free to indulge in such guesses as they see fit).
"What are you creating for us, Mrs Hudson?" asked Holmes.
"Kippers to start, gentlemen, on a bed of lettuce. Then braised pork with fried apples and a red wine reduction plus a medley of winter vegetables and to follow, bread and butter pudding."
"I fear you have left yourself a lot to do my dear lady. Are you confident you have the time to create this dish?" I asked.
"If not I think I will be like the fish I had yesterday."
"How do you mean?" asked Holmes.
"Gutted," she replied.
"Good luck. Dr Watson will bellow out in a strident manner at various intervals informing you how much cooking time you have left."
'Gutted’, what a quaint expression I thought and made a mental note never to use it in polite company. When we were once more ensconced in the sitting-room Holmes asked for my views on the menu our landlady was favouring us with.
"Well I have to say that she may have bitten off more than she or possibly we can chew. There seems to be a tremendous amount of preparation to get through before she can even think of cooking the food itself."
"I agree, Watson and even though the food is fairly simple fare it is no easy matter to make those individual dishes work together. Fish followed by the richness of pork and then the sticky sweetness of the bread and butter pudding. Cooking doesn't get any tougher than this. I really hope she can pull it all together."
"The bread and butter pudding I am really looking forward to, Holmes. I am very much a pudding person you know."
"Your shape rather gives credence to that statement, Watson. Well, we will possess our souls in patience for now."
When an hour had gone by I was dispatched by Holmes to announce to Mrs Hudson that she had one hour left. This I did in an overly strident manner causing a startled Mrs Hudson to drop a glass dish onto the floor. During the negotiations that followed I made the concession that I would sell my bull-pup to cover the cost of replacing said dish. When I was once again dispatched by Holmes on the thirty minute mark, I thought that discretion being the better part of valour; it would be as well on my part just to simply shout down the stairs. Some words of Mrs Hudson wafted back up to me; "stupid sausage neck" or something akin to that. Odd. I did not recall sausage being on the menu. It was a few minutes after six o'clock when Mrs Hudson set down her three plates of food before us.
"First of all, Mrs Hudson," Holmes said, "the dishes are nicely presented. Nevertheless, there are issues here. The kippers are off-centre giving the plate an untidy look, don't you think, Watson"
"The contents interest me much more than the appearance, can't we just eat the blessed meal?"
"Very well, Watson." Holmes lifted a forkful to his mouth, "The kippers are cooked to perfection. I commend you. The pork however could use a little more seasoning, but the overall effect is pleasing I must say."
"That pudding, Holmes. Now, that is sweet, sticky heaven. Mmm."
"Mrs Hudson, you have done very well. The balance of flavours was just right and you obviously know what you are doing. Mrs Hudson; I want to see you cook again. You may therefore cook for us on a daily basis."
The landlady, having been dismissed thus, walked to the door. As she opened it she looked back at Holmes, who now had his back to her, looking out the window. She raised her middle finger in an extraordinary upward motion and left the room. I was not altogether sure what this gesture meant, but I resolved never to ask her.