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Is my story!
There are so many good stories to be found this December – all linked as they appear at the Rainbow Advent Calendar group or at the master post. My offering features Alasdair and Toby, my post WWII actor laddies from An Act of Detection. They don’t just portray Holmes and Watson onscreen – they do some amateur detecting offscreen too. This time they’re tackling The Case of the Forgetful Genius.
“Holmes and Watson. In a pantomime.” Toby Bowe cuffed himself on the ear, as though something in it was preventing him hearing correctly. “Is the world going mad?”
“Probably, but we’ll have to temporarily embrace its lunacy.” Alasdair Hamilton raised his heavily insured eyebrow in the cynical manner he’d used the last time he’d portrayed the great detective on the silver screen. “Sir Ian has commanded and we must obey.”
Sir Ian Sheringham, head of Landseer studios, the keeper of the contracts and the main engine by which both actors kept their bank accounts full, while still maintaining secrecy about their relationship. A man whose whims should be indulged, indeed.
“I suppose it will raise a ton of money for charity, so we shouldn’t complain, but do we play it absolutely straight or mug to the best of our abilities? Behind you! And all that.” Toby grinned in sudden remembrance of childhood trips to the theatre and how they had enchanted him, paving the way for his eventual career.
“I don’t have a lot of experience to draw on, but I’ve heard it said that the best comedy is played with as straight a face as though one were taking the part of Othello or Hamlet.”
“Should be right up your street, then. The Man with the Golden Frown. Have you seen a script for this farrago, by the way?”
“They’re supposed to be arriving today, by courier. All very hush hush at the moment in case any other studios get wind and rush through their own version. Steal our thunder and all that.” Alasdair employed the famous frown. “Fiona will be principal boy, I suppose.”
“She has the legs for it. It’ll be a real money-spinner—think of the chaps who’ll dig deep in their pockets to see her in tricorn, short coat and tights.” Toby, who’d been draped elegantly across a green leather sofa, relocated himself to sitting on Alasdair’s lap. “If she’s principal boy she gets to kiss the leading lady—on the cheek, I’m guessing or the censor would never allow it—rather than you. The censor wouldn’t allow Watson to kiss Holmes, either, so we’ll have to keep those for the privacy of our own homes. And would you believe it, one of those is where we are now.” Suiting the action to the words, he landed Alasdair a juicy smacker.
Read the rest here The Case of the Forgetful Genius and if you enjoy my stories, why not sign up for my newsletter?
There are so many good stories to be found this December – all linked as they appear at the Rainbow Advent Calendar group or at the master post. My offering features Alasdair and Toby, my post WWII actor laddies from An Act of Detection. They don’t just portray Holmes and Watson onscreen – they do some amateur detecting offscreen too. This time they’re tackling The Case of the Forgetful Genius.
“Holmes and Watson. In a pantomime.” Toby Bowe cuffed himself on the ear, as though something in it was preventing him hearing correctly. “Is the world going mad?”
“Probably, but we’ll have to temporarily embrace its lunacy.” Alasdair Hamilton raised his heavily insured eyebrow in the cynical manner he’d used the last time he’d portrayed the great detective on the silver screen. “Sir Ian has commanded and we must obey.”
Sir Ian Sheringham, head of Landseer studios, the keeper of the contracts and the main engine by which both actors kept their bank accounts full, while still maintaining secrecy about their relationship. A man whose whims should be indulged, indeed.
“I suppose it will raise a ton of money for charity, so we shouldn’t complain, but do we play it absolutely straight or mug to the best of our abilities? Behind you! And all that.” Toby grinned in sudden remembrance of childhood trips to the theatre and how they had enchanted him, paving the way for his eventual career.
“I don’t have a lot of experience to draw on, but I’ve heard it said that the best comedy is played with as straight a face as though one were taking the part of Othello or Hamlet.”
“Should be right up your street, then. The Man with the Golden Frown. Have you seen a script for this farrago, by the way?”
“They’re supposed to be arriving today, by courier. All very hush hush at the moment in case any other studios get wind and rush through their own version. Steal our thunder and all that.” Alasdair employed the famous frown. “Fiona will be principal boy, I suppose.”
“She has the legs for it. It’ll be a real money-spinner—think of the chaps who’ll dig deep in their pockets to see her in tricorn, short coat and tights.” Toby, who’d been draped elegantly across a green leather sofa, relocated himself to sitting on Alasdair’s lap. “If she’s principal boy she gets to kiss the leading lady—on the cheek, I’m guessing or the censor would never allow it—rather than you. The censor wouldn’t allow Watson to kiss Holmes, either, so we’ll have to keep those for the privacy of our own homes. And would you believe it, one of those is where we are now.” Suiting the action to the words, he landed Alasdair a juicy smacker.
Read the rest here The Case of the Forgetful Genius and if you enjoy my stories, why not sign up for my newsletter?
