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 not so recent disappearance of Lord Douchebag. 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. 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. But now an even more inexplicable event has transpired. The entire salon has disappeared.
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 a strange friendship he had struck up 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 caused Gregson to leave in a huff. None the less he still maintained some correspondence with some of the other members of this obscure cult. And now it seems that have all disappeared. All of the fops, dandies, toadies and lickspittles have disappeared along with Lady Chatterley and her lover the erstwhile gardener. They have left no forwarding address or other means of contacting them. It is passing strange that they would flee and leave nothing but a pile of ash and an unpleasant odor.
I would like to ask if you would consider investigating this outré occurrence and help me puzzle out what has happened to the entire salon that has occupied so much of our thoughts the past few months. It is a mystery that requires you special talents to solve.
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 one of his etchings for Inspector Gregson’s birthday. He was struck by it and continues to express his appreciation every day although I do not see why he would treasure it so much. But I venture to presume that I am not as enamored of representations of naked street urchins eating bananas. My taste runs more to watercolors of lilies.
I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
Scotland Yard
May 14, 1899
Titus just sent me the link to this porn website that he said the blogger Lady and Meade set up in place of the old one. That can't be right!
That's where you usually find the runaways. But all I found was the Crack Emcee and a bunch of hookers. Not together of course. Just hanging around outside smoking.
You're scaring me dudes. It's obvious. Enough with the videos already. You should just be having fun. Just sayn'
That sometimes a picture sort of sums up how you spend too much of your time?
Sometimes when you have an exceptionally fertile place it spawns a lot of offspring. Even blogs. Some of them are more loved then others. Some of them are just ugly.
