- Ghost Who Walks
- Jul 15, 2005
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High Five.
Bangalla style.
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Short story where Sherlock Holmes calls into extra racist dialogue with Watson about the ancestry of a potentially regular client. At the end as the man storms out Sherlock says he walks like a homosexual.
It’s not as bad as it sounds. It is very racist. As far as I remember it didn’t actually use any slurs besides old (1890s) names for mixed-race black folk such as mulato etc.
"Forgive me," said Holmes, "I weary you with my hobby."
"Not in the least!" I answered. "It is of profound interest to me, since I've been privileged to witness the practical application firsthand."
Holmes accepted this indifferently as he turned to observe our guest, sending thick wreaths from his pipe as he worked his extraordinary genius.
"Well then," he said shortly, "Observation tells me that you have been loafing in alleys, playing dice games in the hopes of earning coppers to pay for malt liquor and menthols. Yesterday, you misplaced your afro pick and you're seeking my help in evading capture from the Korean liquor clerk you hoped to pilfer a replacement from."
The stranger started in surprise.
"I assure you, Mr. Holmes, that all of these conclusions are completely erroneous!"
"Not at all," he replied, with a knowing smile. "On the contrary, they're so elementary that explanation is practically superfluous! From the first moment I saw you, I sensed from your wide brow Sicilian ancestry, a bloodline long polluted by race-mixing with the dark continent. You're practically a quadroon, and thus hardly fit to be seen without the fashionable accessories of your kind."
"The afro pick!" I ejaculated.
Holmes nodded appreciatively, and went on.
"Somebody with your genetic makeup could scarcely resist the ever-present allure of malt liquor and menthols in the rookery, but would never have the ethic to earn the necessary coin through an honest day's work. Your drooping lips indicate far too slow of a wit for a card or cup game. Having eliminated the impossible, only dice games remain."
"Incredible, Holmes!" I said, astonished, "No matter how many times I see you do it, it never ceases to impress!"
"Simplicity itself," my companion replied.
The stranger sputtered in outrage, but Holmes started again.
"By your monolid eyes, I can see your antecedents also miscegenated with Orientals– a more devious and underhanded lot I've never known. You would never think to pay for a replacement afro pick, but you'd also never raise a hand to steal from the inherently decent white men of the culture that civilized you. No, indeed, you could only steal from one of your own. And since you still don't have the afro pick, you must have been caught. Finally, knowing that men of the Far East only betray each other to the law when their ancestry is separated by the divide of seas, the merchant can only have been Korean."
"I just wanted your help solving my brother's murder!" the stranger burst out furiously.
The guest shoved his hat firmly onto his head and stormed out of the door of 221b Baker Street in the kind of emotional outburst typical of his kind, only turning back once to shout, "And I'm 100% Greek you crazy racist son of a bitch!"
"Greek is a euphemism," Holmes said to me quietly, "I didn't see him walk before but now that I have it's obvious that man is a sodomite."
"Simply astounding," I remarked.
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May 25, 2020 14:04
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