The Oxford Punt

by "Ah, Russell, what is to become of me?"

I suppose I don't owe anyone an explanation of anything in my long life, but I must admit I have been pleasantly surprised by the reactions to Ms. Laurie R. King's handling of the manuscripts I sent to her. I feel a bit of guilt for misleading Ms. King and her avid readers. I realize that many of them, not the least of whom must be Ms. King herself, must wonder if I am still alive.

The incident of the Oxford Punt that was found with our belongings and several handprints was intentional. It was meant as a message to Ms. King that we are both indeed alive and well. And we wish her to know that we are pleased with her editing and publications of the manuscripts we sent to her. She is a much more capable editor than Conan Doyle ever was.

As to our astonishing longevity, I would refer you to the short article I sent to a young woman in Texas. (She is a distant relation to me on my mother's side.) It explains the effects of Royal Jelly and Holmes' distillation of it. It is truly extraordinary stuff and should not be taken lightly. It is not normal to live this long. Holmes and I both find it difficult to believe that we have seen so much change and are still around to experience more.

To a person not particularly enamored of their life, this would be hell. Indeed, sometimes we wonder if it is wise to continue on our current course of the Jelly. It is just that, we are both so incredibly satisfied with The Way Things Are that we cannot bring ourselves to stop the doses and fall into the ill health that would follow.

We no longer chase criminals through the streets or work for Her Majesties' service as spies. We do, on occasion, advise her of certain currents and events. She has never revealed our existence outside fiction to anyone and thus our secret is secure.

We no longer go by our given names, nor do we live at our dear cottage on the Downs. Both our identities and our location became too difficult to maintain. Indeed, we find the anonymity we now enjoy to be a welcome relief from the rough and tumble of earlier years. Our children are now elderly but we continue to see them, their children and their children's children. However, it is becoming clear to us that at some point, we must fade from their lives, too. It is unnatural to have your parents hiking ten miles when they are both over one hundred. I am sure they wonder. We have not told them the truth. It is too big a burden and we don't want them, or anyone else, to make the sorts of decisions we have.

Our dear friends, Mrs. Hudson and Uncle John have both passed on. Their lives ended more or less naturally. The doses of the Jelly we gave them were not as potent as the ones we take. Neither of them wished to live to a ridiculous age. Mycroft, on the other hand, completely changed his habits after his heart attack. He lost weight and began to take the Jelly. He too has changed identities but continues to thrive upon the rough and tumble of Whitehall. He is a personal advisor to the prime minister, although he is unknown by anyone outside the highest echelons. He lives at the family home in Kent and is every bit the retired gentleman. No one has any idea who he is or what he does. He prefers it that way.

What we have, you see, is no less than the magic elixir of life. It is a dangerous drug. We have discussed the fact that since both of us are former drug addicts, perhaps our reliance on this substance is also an addiction. If it is, we accept the consequences of our actions and ask no one to intervene.

Fortunately, we had invested our money wisely so finances have never been a concern.

I recently read a couple of novels by the American writer, Anne Rice. Ms. Rice has an active imagination (or she is insane) and has created a strange ménage of characters. I find myself almost identifying with them. These vampires she has created are malevolent creatures, but they are eternal. Holmes and I do not bite people, but we do rely on a lot of bees. Sometimes we do not feel exactly of this world but know that in some sense we still belong here.

Our lives are full and our love and respect for one another has grown over the years. Neither one of us is incapable of functioning alone, but together we are both improved.

If you, dear reader, wish to find us, you must not look too hard. We are easy to find any time you want: Simply open the books. We shall live there always. So, fret not, there is more to come.

MRH