The perils of Russell
The Amazing Adventures of (92 year old) Mary Russell continues, in her Myspace blog. Things are beginning to get exciting—the story thus far:
In 1992, the rural Sussex home that Ms Russell shared with the aged Sherlock Holmes was invaded by “a ravening pack of Sherlockians.” The Intrepid Duo escape them by ruse and make for Russell’s house in Oxford, where all appears secure.
I rang Patrick the following evening—trusting that our Sherlockian pursuers lacked the wherewithal to tap lines and trace telephone calls—to ask him to stow the trunk of memoirs with a third party for the present, and heard of the pack’s confounding by our actor’s cross-country sprint. Patrick told me he would spend another night sleeping in the Land Rover at our door, then load up our trunks and valuables and abandon his post on the morrow, leaving the actor to his play.
We spent a pleasant three days in my second home of Oxford, visiting with old friends, pursuing our varied studies, and worrying not in the least that we would be discovered—the ancient city is generously endowed with ancient academics, and even the closing days of April are cool enough to justify hats and the occasional scarf.
On the fourth day, my medical student greeted our return with the news that a couple of rather odd Americans had come to the door while we were out. With sinking heart, I asked if they had worn lapel pins with pipes, deerstalker caps, or 221B. No, she replied—they were dogs.
“Holmes,” I shouted up the stairs, “time to be off.”
Will Russell and Holmes evade the invaders? Will the bells of Oxford toll their demise (the importunate Americans, that is)? Will Russell be kissed by the Hobby Horse?
Stay tuned next week, as the tale winds to a close with a high speed chase on…punts?