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. However new developments lead me to believe that we can finally put this unfortunate business behind us so we might concentrate on more immediate concerns.

As I had previously noted in my prior missives, 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. It appears that a new favorite has arisen and no one is concerned about Lord Douchebag or his fate any longer.

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 denizens 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, sodomy, coprophilia and defecation. But as you now know 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. Inspector Gregson has fallen into a deep well of melancholia to the point that he refuses to leave his apartment when not attending to his duties and listens to show tunes on his gramophone while imbibe large quantities of sherry. He has been purchases large numbers of bananas and cucumbers which I must presume have become the staples of his diet. It seems most unhealthy but I do not question him because I subsist on a steady diet of shephards pie and porter.

Inspector Gregson did report that the salon of Lady Chatterley has utterly changed character in the recent months. She has a new favorite upon whom she has showered her somewhat bovine regard. This new favorite speaks in a jargon not normally heard in polite society in this our blessed isle. 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 Lady Chatterley finds most amusing and satisfying. She has scorned and belittled some of most loyal correspondents who deigned to protest the calumneries and insults that this new jackanapes has spewed on the other members of her rapidly deteriorating Salon. Inspector Gregson had begun a correspondence with this strange character who signs all of his missives with a single letter as his mysterious sobriquet. However his insane rants and vicious prejudices are such that Inspector Gregson now destroys his correspondence without deigning opening them. Yet still he persists in his folly that gets such a positive response from Lady Chatterley.

Many of Lord Douchebags strongest partisans have given up the search and in fact have separated themselves from Lady Chatterley and her gardening consort. However a new motley group of sycophants and toadies have conspired to fill the ranks of the maladjusted acolytes of this round robin of idiocy. It seems this new correspondence with the single letter signature has usurped Lord Douchebags position as Court Jester and is now the Beau Ideal of this group of nattering nincompoops. We can in fact state that the empirical evidence is clear that a new Lord Douchebag has arrived and claimed his throne as the biggest and most complete Douchebag to be found here in our beloved Albion.

So perhaps it is time to close the file on Lord Douchebag and his mysterious disappearance since no one seems to care anymore. And futher visits to this salon would not prove salaburious to ones mental health if the example of Inspector Gregson is indeed meant to be a caution to us all.

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 cheer him up and to get him to return to polite society. He much enamored of your brother's techniques and continues to express his appreciation of them to me 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 half naked school boys being punished by their headmasters. My taste runs more to watercolors of lilies.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
Scotland Yard
October 19, 1899