The Dubious Case of the Disappearing Douchebag

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been some time since I have last requested you assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance of Lord Douchebag which you might not recall as it happened several years ago. This curious case has dragged on and on. It seems to have escaped the notice of so many who claimed the deepest interest and concern, but who have gone on as though nothing had happened. It is as though Lord Douchebag never existed. The anniversary of his disappearance has come and gone without a single note from his so called friends and admirers. But there some new and troubling developments made it such that I thought I might contact you as we have not corresponded about this matter for many months.

As I had previously noted in my last missive, I or my agents have attended many of the salons of the noted conversationalist and dilettante Lady Chatterley where Lord Douchebag was a frequent and much valued guest. In fact it has been told to me that the Lady in question has often referred to him as wonderful. What is most striking is that his name has not passed the lips of any of the many participants for lo these many months and it is as if he never existed. He is never referred to or referenced in any way which is passing strange since so many professed an acute admiration for his talents such as they were. But not a peep from anyone for lo these many months.

Inspector Gregson had informally visited the salon over the past few months to see if he might develop some leads. Or at least that was his stated purpose. In actual fact he had continued his visits because of some strange friendships he had struck up with some of the rather scruffy dezians of this talking shop. He first struck up a deep and abiding friendship with a young follower of Lady Chatterley who shared his interests in exotic spaniels and defecation. But it seems his new friend had spurned him due to his burgeoning relationship with a sepoy who had recently been detailed to Devonshire from his regiment in Delhi. This has led to some violent disagreements and words of rancor that are most unseemly for a professional of Inspector Gregson sterling character.

Currently Inspector Gregson has made friends with a new visitor to the salon who seems a rather mysterious character. He speaks in a jargon not normally heard in these precincts. It is an arcane and rhythmic argot not normally found outside the confines of Bedlam. Although it often contains vague threats and anti-social sputtering there seems to be a glimmer of a deeper intelligence and good humor that is artfully concealed. Inspector Gregson has continued his correspondence with this strange character who signs all of his missives with a single letter as his mysterious sobriquet. It remains to be seen if this path of investigate will be fruitful but if anyone will be fruitful it most likely will be Inspector Gregson.

Many of Lord Douchebags strongest partisans have given up the search and in fact have separated themselves from Lady Chatterley and her gardening consort. The noted flautist and raconteur has left the salon and stopped his advertisements in the agony column of Woodwind News. The balding and fierce smith who owned the motorcycle shop has also left the salon and wanders about in his own more parochial pursuits of porter and greasy sausages. Even the noted historian of the salon has left for many years now and has transferred her attentions to the doings of the nefarious Red Headed League of which you are so familiar. All of them must have decided that the fate of Lord Douchebag is not something they care to ponder. Would that we could do the same.

I hope all is well with you and Doctor Watson and wish that you convey my best wishes to your estimable brother Mycroft. I must tell you that I have purchased another one of his etchings for Inspector Gregson to thank him for his continued efforts in my Quixotic search for the elusive Lord Douchebag. He much enamored of your brother's techniques and continues to express his appreciation every day although I do not see why he would treasure these etchings so much. But I venture to presume that I am not as enamored of representations of naked street urchins bathing in the Thames and rubbing whale oil on each other as a prophylactic for the cold. My taste runs more to watercolors of lilies.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
Scotland Yard
September 6, 1899