Isabelle Rocher and The Ghost of Prof. James Moriarty

October 4, 2022 at 10:56 pm (Culture, Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Isabelle Rocher or Brigitte Bardot?

The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London was having a photo exhibit of original photos of European actresses.

On this particular early October evening (it had been exactly 3 years since the satanic AntiPope Jorge Mario Bergoglio aka Pope Francis had brought an idol of the demoness Pachamama into the Vatican Gardens to help open the Vatican Synod On The Amazon) it just so happened that the ghost of Prof. James Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes’ arch enemy) was wondering the streets of London.

Hades had granted Moriarty’s ghost a dispensational release from the Realm of the Underworld at the request of the demoness Pachamama.

Moriarty’s ghost noticed The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery and decided to enter.

He stared intently at a photograph of noted French actress Brigitte Bardot.

He kept saying over and over again, “Isabelle Rocher, Isabelle Rocher.”

“No,” Dashwood Forrest the owner of the gallery approached the ghostly spectral leader, “That’s Brigitte Bardot the famous French actress.”

“She looks exactly like my French mistress Isabelle Rocher,” the brilliant mathematician and criminal mastermind was astounded at the resemblance, “although I never saw her wear a skirt that looked like that. If I had, I’d have probably got hornier and had sex with her a lot sooner.”

“When did this Isabelle Rocher live?” Dashwood Forrest inquired.

“Back in the 19th Century,” Moriarty replied.

“No not many women wore skirts that looked like that back in the 19th Century,” Dashwood Forrest admitted, “save possibly women who worked in the inside of bordellos.”

“I had fled to Latin America when she told me that she was pregnant,” Moriarty recalled, “And when I returned to France, I discovered that she had given birth to a son called Louis. They left Paris and went to the French countryside somewhere. I could never track them down. I saw Louis’ baptismal certificate and she had listed the father as unknown. So I imagine he took his mother’s last name for his own. Louis Rocher would have been his name.”

“There was a famous French scientist called Dr. Louis Rocher who was shot down and killed by the Red Baron the day before the Red Baron himself was shot down and killed,” Dashwood Forrest recalled.

“The Red Baron?” Moriarty’s ghostly face looked quizzical.

“I’ll explain the history later,” Forrest was familiar with entertaining the dead as he once had had an Irish zombie named Mulligan as a manservant.

“And did this Dr. Louis Rocher have any offspring?” Moriarty inquired.

“He did,” Forrest nodded, “In fact his great- grandson Dr. Cadbury Rocher is the chief scientist for Set Enterprises here in London.”

“I wonder who Louis Rocher’s wife was?” Prof. James Moriarty mused aloud.

“Sherrielock Holmes,” Forrest answered.

Moriarty’s jaw dropped, “Sherlock Holmes’ lesser known twin sister?”.

“That’s her,” Forrest nodded.

“You mean I have descendents that have both Holmes and Moriarty blood in them?” Prof. Moriarty was shocked out of his skull.

In fact Moriarty had carried his skull with him out of Hades and had now dropped it on the art gallery floor.

At that moment British MP Renfield R. Renfield and the quite literally immortal Sherrielock Holmes (she had once consumed Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms on one occasion that had made her immortal) entered the gallery.

“Prof. Moriarty!” Sherrielock exclaimed in surprise as she recognized the ghost.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 4th

Permalink 10 Comments

Renfield’s Research On Sherrielock Holmes

December 16, 2015 at 8:34 pm (Literature, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Renfield’s Research On Sherrielock Holmes

Amadeus and Renfield were sitting in their favourite Fish and Chips shop in London.

Renfield was having the Deluxe Grilled Cheese and Tuna Fish Sandwich Special.

Amadeus was having the All You Can Eat Fish n’ Chips Special.

He was now on his 11th plate of fish and chips.

“I’ve noticed that for some reason I’m not able to fit into any of the clothes that people bought me as presents last Christmas,” Amadeus said as he bit into his monster piece of cod.

“I wonder why that is,” Renfield bit into his sandwich.

“I have no idea,” Amadeus ordered his 12th plate of fish and chips.

“Anyways I’ve been doing some research on Sherrielock Holmes,” Renfield sipped his Magic Mushroom and Marshmallow Laced Chocolate Latte.

“Your personal dominatrix?” Amadeus spoke in a loud voice.

“Shhh, quiet, not so loud,” Renfield whispered to Amadeus.

The remark had caught the attention of other restaurant patrons particularly British Prime Minister David Cameron who sat there with a very peculiar look on his face.

“So what did you discover about Miss Holmes?” Amadeus ordered the chocolate pudding dessert.

“That she’s 161 years old for one thing,” Renfield stated.

“Wow, she doesn’t look much over 30 if that,” Amadeus was amazed, “she must have a lot of Oil of Olay around the house.”

“That she’s also Sherlock Holmes’ twin sister,” Renfield went on.

“Sherlock Holmes the famous detective?” Amadeus was astounded.

“The very same,” Renfield put on his deerstalker cap.

“But I always thought he was a fictional character,” Amadeus ordered the Moby Dick Omelette to go with his dessert.

“Dr. Watson just used his physician friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as a cover to protect Holmes’ real existence,” Renfield explained.

“But all those stories about him listed his address as 221 B Baker Street,” Amadeus pointed out.

“It’s little slip- ups in details like that which often cause the best laid plans of mice and men to go astray,” Renfield ordered the Robbie Burns Eggnog Special, “that is in fact the means by which Prof. Moriarty discovered where Holmes lived, Moriarty being one of the Strand Magazine’s most ardent subscribers. It was also that fact which led Holmes to discover the secret headquarters of Prof. Moriarty once he obtained a copy of the Strand Magazine’s subscription and mailing list.”

“Wow, so Holmes was actually a real person eh?” Amadeus started writing a letter to Santa Claus on his napkin.

“Yes,” Renfield nodded, “and Sherrielock Holmes was his virtually unknown twin sister.”

“How did she become immortal?” Amadeus helped himself to one of the restaurant’s Heavenly Cinnamon Buns, “She doesn’t look like a vampiress. She doesn’t have those prominent vampiric incisor fangs that most vampiresses do that’s usually such a challenge for most dentists to clean.”

“It was through the efforts of her lover and husband Louis Rocher a brilliant scientist,” Renfield explained, “he used a compound he specially extracted from the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom to make a potion that he gave her to drink and she became immortal.”

“Did he drink the potion as well?” Amadeus sampled some of Renfield’s Magic Mushroom and Marshmallow Chocolate Latte.

“No, for reasons totally unknown, he decided to wait to drink it,” Renfield angrily took back his cup of Latte, “which was a mistake on his part because during the Great War of 1914-18, he was an RAF pilot and he was shot down and killed by the Red Baron just the day before the Red Baron himself was shot down and killed.”

“Oh yes, that was Snoopy who killed the Red Baron, wasn’t it?” Amadeus helped himself to some peanuts.

“Yes, Amadeus,” Renfield sighed in an exasperating manner.

“Wait,” Amadeus started sampling a chocolate eclair, “did you say this Louis’ last name was Rocher?”.

“Yes,” Renfield watched as the plate of chocolate eclairs vanished into oblivion (if oblivion be another name for Amadeus’ stomach).

“Is he any relation to Dr. Cadbury Rocher…?” Amadeus was interrupted.

“Yes, Louis Rocher was Cadbury’s great-grandfather,” Renfield nodded.

“Then that means that Sherrielock Holmes is…” Amadeus was again interrupted.

“Cadbury’s great-grandmother,” Renfield nodded again.

“Wow, Cadbury never mentioned that his great-grandmother was still alive,” Amadeus paused as he realized there was nothing left on the table to eat.

“Just like the Boss never mentions that he has hemorrhoids when he’s at social gatherings,” Renfield pointed out, “there are some things you just don’t talk about in public.”

“So is that all you discovered about Sherrielock Holmes?” Amadeus ordered a slice of banana cream pie.

“No,” Renfield grinned like the Giant Rat of Sumatra after he had eaten a monster block of cheese, “I discovered something that I suspect not even Sherrielock Holmes herself knows.”

“What’s that?” Amadeus dove into the banana cream pie with as much flourish as Tarzan would dive into a jungle stream where Jane was swimming in her birthday suit.

“I found out who Louis Rocher’s father is,” Renfield beamed from ear to ear.

“Presumably some man called Rocher,” Amadeus got a banana caught in his hair and started to worry that people might mistake him for Donald Trump as he struggled to get it out.

“Louis’ mother Isabelle Rocher was a single mother,” Renfield explained, “but I discovered Louis Rocher’s birth certificate in the Bibliotecheque Nationale de France right next to the Merovingian Bloodline Chart which shows that today’s direct descendant of Mary Magdalene and the Merovingian Kings of France is none other than Rowan Atkinson aka Mr. Bean aka Johnny English.”

“Jesus Christ,” Amadeus got cream pie all over his face.

“Actually it turns out that it was Jesus’ cousin Simeon of Nazareth who married Mary Magdalene and immigrated to France,” Renfield was happy to outLangdon Robert Langdon, “but that information wouldn’t sell massive quantities of books as Simeon of Nazareth isn’t as well known as his cousin Jesus of Nazareth.”

“No, I guess not,” Amadeus wiped the cream pie off his face.

“Probably due to the fact that as Simeon of Nazareth lay dying after he was slain by an angry Gaul for helping himself to the last piece of cheese on a plate at a French village banquet, his prophecy that he would rise again on the Third Day after being buried near what is today Rennes-le-Chateau didn’t pan out. Prophesying that you’d rise again from the dead and doing it brings you everlasting fame. Prophesying that you’d rise again from the dead and not doing it ensures history’s loss of memory of you,” Renfield reflected.

“I suppose so,” Amadeus eagerly grabbed his plate of Baked Alaska from the waitress as he was trying to recall where he heard the name Sarah Palin before.

“So would you like to know what was the name of Louis Rocher’s father on his 1874 birth certificate?” Renfield pulled a plum out of his mincemeat pie and thought what a good boy he was.

“Yes, the suspense is killing me as are these suspenders,” Amadeus stated, “God, why do my pants feel so tight?”.

“Yes, the name of Louis Rocher’s father was none other than…” Renfield grinned, “drum roll please.”

Amadeus handed him an egg roll from his coat pocket.

Renfield put the egg roll aside and wiped his hands with a napkin, “The name of Louis Rocher’s father was none other than… Prof. James Moriarty.”

“Sherlock Holmes’ arch enemy?!” Amadeus spit a huge piece of Baked Alaska out of his mouth that went flying across the room and hit David Cameron in the face.

“The very same,” Renfield grinned.

A London bobby rushed to Mr. Cameron’s aid and shouted, “Prime Minister down! Prime Minister down!”.

Outside the restaurant, zookeepers from the London Zoo could be seen chasing an escaped barking otter down the street.

“So Sherrielock Holmes was married to Prof. Moriarty’s son?” Amadeus was astounded.

“Unknowingly of course,” Renfield smiled.

“So that means Dr. Cadbury Rocher has Sherlock Holmes’ twin sister for a great-grandmother and Sherlock Holmes’ arch enemy for a great great grandfather?” Amadeus reflected on what this meant for the world as chaos reigned at David Cameron’s table and on the otter filled streets of London outside.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
during the period
Thursday December 9th
Tuesday December 15th

Permalink 19 Comments