Holmes and Watson meet Barnaby and Troy

by saharadragon

There is a very high death count but then what would you expect from a Midsommer Murders episode?

It was mid June and very unsurprisingly there was a fair/fete/festival/other form of celebration going on in some village in Midsommer and also very unsurprisingly there was a murder. This bloke had been stabbed to death with a samurai sword on his way back from the pub. (Yet another original storyline from the Midsommer Murders story writers) This really insignificant part of the story takes up about four parts and five breaks and ten leedammer cheese adverts later Barnaby and Troy finally enter the scene with Holmes and Watson who are taking a break from their tight schedule in Cupboardsville to come and help them solve the case (and probably some cupboard action as well if they can fit it in).

            Barnaby was examining the corpse and Troy was being sick in the corner, which was nothing new when Holmes and Watson came in.

            "Spiffing scones weren't they? Don't you agree Watson?"

            "Quite, Holmes."

            "Well what do we have here then?" said Holmes referring to the corpse (well we presume that was what he was referring to)

            "A dead body, sir," pointed out Troy helpfully.

            "Yes thank you Troy I think the detective can see that," said Barnaby.

            "Hmm," mused Holmes while Watson grinned at Troy.  "Any suspects?"

            "Troy?"

            "Well the man who found him was walking his dog…"

            "Well, well."

            "Sir?"

            "Troy doesn't it strike you as odd that nearly every murder we have there's a man walking his dog in it somewhere?"

            "Um…"

            "Never mind. Carry on."

            "Anyway, the man's dog…"

            "…found the body in some long grass and called the police?"

            "How could you possibly know that?"

            "Lucky guess. So what's their name?"

            "Well the victim's drivers licence says his name is Dan James and the bloke who found him who very conveniently knows him and had an argument with him last night at the pub says his wife is organising the fair that is going to be held in couple of days."

            "Ah yes of course the fair that seems to be in every episode. The writers are getting much more adventurous. What do you make of this, Mister Holmes?"

            "It's quite simple, Mister Barnaby. In my experience all you have to do is look out for the character played by Richard E Grant and he is the murderer."

            At that moment the bloke that found the body while walking his dog pokes his head round the forensic tent. "Um hello is it okay if I go home now if you've quite finished with me."

            "Hang on, what's your name, sir?" asked Troy.

            "Um…Grant E Richard."

            "Okay you can go for now," said Barnaby.

            When he'd gone Troy turned to Barnaby. "I could hardly recognise him without the long hair from the Argos adverts."

            "We have to be very very careful," Holmes said. "He is a despicable foe."

            "How can we prove it was him?" asked Watson.

            "Hang on!"

            "I'm afraid we'll have to wait for the forensic reports to confirm cause of death," Barnaby informed them putting a downer on the whole plan. (Oh yeah I can see how that would be very important. I mean they would definitely need to know whether after the attack with the samurai sword he walked under a bus or what)

            "I think the sword would have killed him Mister Barnaby," pointed out Holmes rather patronisingly.

            "Yes but did it?" asked Barnaby. "He could have been poisoned first or anything."

            "Oh yeah," said everyone. "Oh well back to the drawing board."

            "What drawing board?" asked Troy.

            "The proverbial one."

            "What, sir?"

            "Never mind Troy. Did Mr James have any relatives we can talk to for a couple of scenes?"

             "I told you his wife."

            "Oh yes. Come on then."

            "What so soon?" Watson looked quite shocked. "No stopping off at Cupboardsville on the way?"

             Mrs James wasn't very useful but then what did you expect from a Midsommer Murders suspect?

            "He'd only gone out for a quiet drink. He was only supposed to be gone an hour but I fell asleep so I didn't notice that he wasn't home."

            "Can you think of anyone who might want to kill him?"

            "No. No one. He was very popular."

            "Where did he work?"

            "Um- he was a cleaner at the school."

            "Thank you for your help Mrs James."

            "Do you think she's lying?" asked Holmes.

            "Probably," said Barnaby. "I don't think people know how to tell the truth in Midsommer."

            "I think that we should go and talk to Grant E Richard again," said Watson. (Only because he wanted to use him as a Cupboardsville partner I suspect.)

            "No, Watson, we shall let him think he's got away with it for a bit."

            Just then Barnaby got a phone call from forensics.

            "He died from cyanide poisoning," he informed then. "Then he was chopped up afterwards."

            "I have a plan sir," said Troy, which made everyone groan. "Why don't we go round everybody's house and ask them if they have a samurai sword? That way we'll be able to match blood tissue and perhaps someone had one that was stolen or borrowed."

            "Don't be stupid Troy."

            "Sorry sir."

            "Although what we could do is go round everybody's house and ask them if they have a samurai sword. That way we'll be able to match blood tissue and perhaps someone had one that was stolen or borrowed."

            "Yes sir."

            "What a good idea, Mr Barnaby."

            "You are clever."

            "See Troy, you need to think of these things when you are as great as me."

            "Yes sir. Sorry sir."

            So they got to work on Barnaby's great idea. They all split up and went knocking on doors.

            None of them were having that much luck when Holmes figured out that the real murderer might lie about having a samurai sword or not. They all went 'oh yeah' and then had to go back over the houses they had done asking them if they were lying or not. Once they were sure everyone in the village hadn't been lying, Holmes pointed out that they hadn't seen Grant E Richard's house.

            "Mister Barnaby!"

            They turned round and there was this fat old woman running up to Barnaby and when she reached him she threw her arms around him.

            "Mister Barnaby I'm so glad I caught you!"

            Literally, Barnaby was thinking as he struggled to get out of her grip.

            "And who are you?" he asked.

            "My name is Mrs Codswallop and I would like to report a theft."

            "Not of a samurai sword by any chance?" asked Barnaby hopefully.

            "Why, how did you know?"

            "SERIOUSLY? I mean…er… okay Mrs Codswallop we'll need to take a few details. Would you like to come down the police station or would you prefer to go back to your house?" (Oh the jokes I could make!)

            Two minutes later they were sitting in a rather posh house drinking tea from annoying pink cups. Watson was hinting for a biscuit but Mrs Codswallop wasn't taking the hint. Either that or she didn't have any biscuits.

            "Please explain in your own words what exactly is missing and when the last time you saw it was. Now don't worry, I will be writing down everything you say but…"

            "Okay Troy get on with it, she's probably gone through a police interrogation before. She does live in a Midsommer village after all."

            "Sorry sir. Anyway, Mrs Codswallop, where is the samurai sword usually kept?"

            "Well I usually display it above the fireplace, just up there," she pointed to a blank space above the fireplace where a large chuck of her disgusting flowery wallpaper was showing through.  Holmes finished his tea and went walkabout around the dining room. Looking for clues I presume.

            "It was my uncle's you see. He brought it back from Japan."

            "That's nice. Anyway, when did you notice it had gone?"

            "This morning. I woke up and found that it was just gone."

            "Was anything else missing?"

            "No. Not that I've noticed."

            "Okay thanks Mrs…"

            At that moment there was the sound of a door opening, closing and a voice shouting: "Hullo, Auntie, I'm home!"

            Then the face (well I say face but you know) of Grant E Richard appeared round the doorway.

            "Oh I do apologise, I didn't know you had company."

            He grinned at Barnaby and Troy who looked kind of freaked and Watson, who was sat at the other side of the room, buried his face in his tea. (well not literally or he'd drown which WOULD be a shame) Holmes was practically growling from where he was stood in the dining room.

            "This is my nephew, Grant E Richard."

            "Yes we've met," said Barnaby who felt that he'd better say something since it was obvious no one else was going to.

            "I think that's all we need, Mrs Codswallop, thanks."

            Suddenly, as there were about to leave, there was the sound of a massive gunshot and a scream coming from outside on the green. Barnaby, Troy, Holmes and Watson (who dropped his tea on the carpet) bolted from the house and ran outside to see this old woman lying dead on the grass outside. Barnaby felt her pulse and announced the verdict.

            At that moment, Mrs Codswallop appeared with Grant E Richard and started screaming. "That's Gwendolyn!"

            "You know her?" (No she has been reading the phonebook again)

            "We go to bingo together!"

            A bit later on when things had calmed down and they were waiting for the forensics to finish, they had a conversation.

            "Well Grant E Richard has an alibi. And we're it!"

            Holmes frowned. "That doesn't mean it wasn't him. He could have an accomplice. He could even have a twin brother!"

            Troy snorted. "Oh yes and just how likely is that?"

            "Shut up Troy."

            "Sorry sir."

            "If he does have a twin brother then it would be a rather stupid, pathetic, thought up at the last minute and couldn't be arsed to go into detail kind of plot from lazy scriptwriters who have to keep re-using the same ideas over and over again."

            "Yes sir."

            "So therefore it is incredibly likely."

            "I'll get uniform on to it at once, sir."

            "Yes Troy you do that. Holmes, do you have any ideas?"

            "Well, I think that considering Gwendolyn…what was her name?"

            "Pinkling. Gwendolyn Pinkling."

            "Well considering Gwendolyn Pinkling didn't have any living relatives, or friends apart from Mrs Codswallop, then I suggest that we concentrate on the first murder for now, it probably has more leads."

            "Well," said Watson, making a rare attempt at speech. "Gwendolyn was shot in broad daylight in the middle of the village! Some one MUST have seen something."

            "You'd have thought so, wouldn't you?" said Troy, rejoining the scene. "Why don't we ask villagers if they saw something for a couple of scenes?"

            "Shut up Troy. What a stupid idea!"

            "Sorry sir."

            "Well Watson is right someone must have seen something so why don't we ask villagers if they saw something for a couple of scenes?"

            "What a good idea Mister Barnaby!"

            "You have such good suggestions."

            "See, Troy, why didn't you think of that?"

            "Sorry sir."

            "Anyway, let's try that house over there, it's nearest the green."

            He went up to it and started knocking on the door.

            "Er- that's your house, sir."

            "Quiet Troy! Don't you think I'd recognise my own house!?"

            "Er- sorry sir."

            Joyce Barnaby (Barnaby's wife) answered the door.

            "Joyce! What are you doing here?"

            "I told you, sir, it's your house."

            "Wait, quiet Troy, I think I've figured it out. This is my house! Why didn't you tell me Troy?"

            "Sorry sir."

            "What are you doing home, Tom?"

            "There was a murder just now, over there on the green. I was wondering if you'd seen anything?"

            "A murder? That's terrible! No I didn't. I heard the gunshot but I thought that it was just hunters."

            "Okay Joyce, you are obviously very shaken up by the whole event."

            "Er…no I'm fine."

            "It's okay. Don't worry."

            "I'm not."

            "Well we'll soon catch the murderer. And I'll be home later."

            "Okay. Bye."

             She sensibly slammed the door on him and they moved on to torture the occupant of the next house. Everyone had heard the shot but most people hadn't seen anything. Troy was made to take note of the houses where no one was in so that they could come back to them later.

            They got pretty much the same answer from everyone until they came to a house where an oldish man said "come this way, we can't talk out here" and pulled the whole gang into his grotty house and locked the door and lend them into a room with no furniture or anything.

            "It was a fig tree."

            "I'm sorry?"

            "A fig tree. There was someone hiding behind a fig tree. When that woman got shot."

            "Oh. What?"

            "I was coming out into the garden to do some digging when I heard the shot. I went round to the front garden to see what it was and I saw someone crouched down behind the old fig tree near the green just in front of my house. Who ever it was, they were holding something in their hands. I think it was gun shaped."

            "Really? Thank you Mister…er…um…that was very helpful."

            "Shepikins."

            "Yes. Er-what?"

            "My name is Mr Shepikins."

            "Oh. Thanks."

            As they were coming out of his house, Troy asked the whole brigade if they trusted him.

            "I don't think he's lying," said Watson. "I do, however, think he may be mistaken. Either mistaken or exaggerating. Maybe there was someone standing behind the fig tree waiting for someone and just happened to be holding something."

            "I don't think so, Watson. What exactly are the chances of that? Besides whoever was standing behind the fig tree would have seen everything that happened on the green. You could be right about one thing though- he could be mistaken. Did you see the thickness of those glasses? If he had taken them off for digging or any other reason- he wouldn't have been able to see anything."

            "Well how do you know? Anyway he might keep them on."

            "I don't think so."

            "Why?"

            "Did you see his garden? It's ALL concrete."

            "So he wouldn't need to dig! Holmes you are a genius!"

            "Well I try."

            Barnaby smiled vaguely wishing he had figured this out. "Well what are we thinking? That he's completely lying or that he's just wrong? That there was a figure and he was just mistaken about what it was doing or that there wasn't anything there at all and that he just thought that there was? What?"

            "I don't know Mr Barnaby," admitted Holmes honestly.

            Just then, Troy's phone started to ring. He left the group to answer it.

            "Hello?"

            "Yes. Yes. No. Yes. Oh that's…weird. Thanks."

            He came back to the group and said, "That was forensics. A possible lead on Gwendolyn. She was dead before she was brought to the green and shot. Natural causes."

            After Troy made that weird announcement, (and after the break) Barnaby made the whole team sit down and review what they had so far over a cup of tea. So far they were stuck apart from knowing the murderer was in some way Grant E Richard.

            "Sir," said Troy.

            "Yes Troy?"

            "Why are we bothering? Why don't we just do what we normally do and wait until everyone in the village has been murdered and then the only one left has to be the murderer?"

            "THERE'S BEEN A MURDER!" (Oh and that's anything new?)

            This time it was the chemist from another part of the village. He had been brutally attacked with his 'best chemist' award trophy. (Slight irony there I think)

            Troy was being sick in the corner when the forensics came in. At least everything was normal then.

            "Have you noticed this?" called Barnaby's favourite forensic.

            "What is it?" asked Barnaby, leaning down to have a peek.

            "It appears to be a earring." He bagged it as Holmes came over.

            "If I remember correctly," began Holmes, "Mrs James was wearing that when we went over to question her."

            "Well, well," said Barnaby. "Someone in Midsommer has been lying to us." (And he's surprised)

            Watson came back from his detailed examination of the victim's wallet.

            "His name's John Perkins. He appears to be married to a Mrs Gertrude Perkins and has three children."

            "Aha! Suspects!"

            "Shall we go and interview them? Or shall we start with Mrs James?"

            "Start with the family."

            "What no Cupboardsville?"

            "There's no time for Cupboardsville."

            "There's always time for Cupboardsville!"

            Despite Watson's desperate pleas, the four showed up on the doorstep of the Perkins's soon to be unhappy household about 20 minutes later. (It would have been five minutes but Troy was driving which just explains everything)

            "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs Perkins but your husband is dead."

            Barnaby explained that he had been brutally murdered and she started crying. Quite understandably really. He asked the basic questions like 'did he have any enemies?' but got all the basic answers and they decided to come back later. Although Barnaby remembered to ask if the family was in any way connected with Gwendolyn Pinkling or Dan James. They knew both people but apart from being Mr Perkin's customers, there wasn't a lot else to say about them.

            "What's the connection?" muttered Barnaby.

            "Maybe there isn't one, sir?"

            "This is Midsommer Murders, Troy, there's always one."

            "Maybe we should go and see Mrs James now, we still have to ask her about that earring."

            "Yes we probably should get a move on with that."

            A couple of years later (Troy was driving) they arrived at Mrs James's house. She was just about to go shopping.

            "Could you tell us why your earring was found at the scene of the murder of John Perkins?"

            "JOHN PERKINS IS DEAD?"

            "Yes I'm afraid he is. How do you know him?"

            "He…um…he was a…friend."

            "Oh they were having an affair then."

            "Ssh Troy."

            "Well that's what that usually means in this programme."

            Mrs James burst out crying. They took her inside, which was a bit more considerate considering everyone was looking at her.

            "Yes we were having an affair," she wailed.

            "You owe me a tenner," murmered Troy to anyone who was listening. (No one then)

            "Did Mrs Perkins know? Did your husband know?"

            "No. I don't think so anyway. We were planning to tell them and move in together but…but…my husband died and John thought he should leave it for now. And he's dead?"

            "I'm sorry. Can you think why someone may want to kill him?"

            "No, not really."

            "What about that earring?"

            "I don't know. I saw John this morning; maybe it got caught on his clothes. I have to admit I didn't notice." She felt for her ears. "Oh yes I'm only wearing one. I'm telling the truth Mr Barnaby, I would never kill anyone but particularly not John."

            They had a quick conference in the corner and had a vote about if she was telling the truth or not. It was three against one so they decided to leave it.

            "Do you know a Mrs Gwendolyn Pinkling?"

            "The name sounds familiar. Oh yes I think she was a long lost aunt of my husband's. They'd only just met again."

            "Do you know why someone would want to kill her just a day after your husband?"

            "No, I don't have a clue."

            "Thank you for your time."

            They'd learned slightly more than they had done before the break anyway.

            The fair was to be held the next day and doubtless there would be a murder or two half way through so no one was really holding out much hope for it going ahead and actually getting finitoed. Barnaby, Troy, Holmes and Watson were still trying to find more evidence to connect all of the cases.

            "I suppose we should start looking for more evidence to connect the cases," said Watson who was sitting on his fat arse in a tea shop in Midsommer Mallow. Before everyone could nod reluctantly and grumble in agreement, Mrs Perkins rushed in looking slightly happier than she had done the last time they saw her.

            "Mr Barnaby! I'm so glad I caught you!"

            "Er-doing what?"

            "I've just remembered something that may help you in your investigation to why my husband was killed."

            "Thank you for coming to find me, please sit down, Mrs Perkins."

            There were no spare seats so everyone glared at Troy until he got up and donated his seat to Mrs Perkins.

            "Well when you asked me and Mrs Pinkling, the name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it, now I remember who she was- a while ago, my husband made contact with a side of his family that he had forgotten all about. Well she was an aunt or something like that. I'm not too sure. He hadn't met her yet. Anyway, I have to go, I am meeting a friend for lunch."

            After she'd gone, Barnaby, Troy, Holmes and Watson discussed her.

            "Gwendolyn Pinkling was aunt to both Dan James AND John Perkins. Bit of a coincidence." Watson stated the obvious.

            "Could be long lost cousins or brothers," mused Barnaby.

            "Well we don't have any other family of Mrs Pinkling to confirm it with."

            "Mrs Perkins said that there was a whole side to Mr Perkins family that he had recently made contact with so we can ask her for names and addresses after tea."

            "That's sorted then."

            Sherlock Holmes prepared to speak. (GASP! Call the press!)

            "I think," he said with an air of superiority. "That we are missing the most obvious explanation."

            Barnaby, who wasn't used to being outsmarted in his own programme, got sarcastic. "Oh please impart some of your great wisdom on us," he cheeked.

            "Well it seems to me that, although Mister Dan James and Mister John Perkins COULD be brothers, it's more likely that one of them is an impostor."

Insert Eastenders theme tune music here

Anyway, after Holmes's dramatic announcement, the four finished their tea and went to pay a visit to the Perkins family. When they got there, a boy about 19 years old answered the door. He introduced himself as Benny Perkins and said that his mother was in the garden and he took the whole gang through the house into the back garden. Mrs Perkins was sitting by a giant pond reading The Guardian.

"Excuse us, Mrs Perkins, we have a few questions for you."

"Of course, how can I help?"

"We were wondering if you had the names and addresses of the family that Mr Perkins had recently discovered but not yet met."

"Well I think that it was only Gwendolyn. Well there were Gwendolyn's sons, John's cousins, but they had recently died in a car crash in Tunisia. Just before John got to meet them."

"Oh." Barnaby thought it was time to drop the bombshell. "Did you know your husband was having an affair?"

"What? That's ridiculous. John was NOT having an affair."

"I'm afraid he was, Mrs Perkins."

"Well with who?"

"Mrs James, the first victim, Dan James's wife."

"You're lying."

"Yes because the police usually lie to suspects half way through a murder inquiry," Holmes said sarcastically.

"HOW DARE YOU? First you come into my home and tell me that my dead husband is having an affair and then you patronise me! Well you can get out! NOW!"

"What now?" asked Troy when they were standing on the pavement outside the house that they had just been thrown out of.

"Frankly Mister Holmes," said Barnaby. "I think your interview technique needs reviewing."

"Humph," moaned Holmes grumpily.

            Er-well anyway, after that fantastic bit of interviewing from which they gained many insightful clues, they decided that they were going to do some research on Gwendolyn Pickling's family because, let's face it, they knew next to nothing about her. First of all, they thought they'd better start with talking to Mrs Codswallop, as she appeared to be a friend of hers. Then they decided that if that got them nowhere then they would do some digging in the library (not literally obviously or the librarians wouldn't be exactly overjoyed and they would probably get thrown out) and then later on they could go to the fair. Glee!

            Grant E Richard was thankfully not round Mrs Codswallop's house today which was quite lucky for him because the way Holmes was growling at him last time they met, he would have ended up thumping him or something else that would really make people feel safe and protected by the police.

            "What can you tell us about Gwendolyn Picking, Mrs Codswallop?"

            "She was a lovely woman, always thinking of other people. She was a bit quiet though and didn't like to talk about herself much."

            "Do you know a lot about her family?"

            "Hardly anything. She had three sons. One was in his late teens, the other was fifteen I think and the other was about nine or ten. I only ever saw the youngest and that was when he was three months old. Gwendolyn took the boys on a holiday about two months ago and they died in a car crash. After that, Gwendolyn was not herself. She had to be taken into care. I used to visit her once a week but in the past three weeks I've been so busy…I…well, I hadn't seen her for a while until she was shot on the green."

            "Where was she taken into care?"

            "Woodleys in Corstan."

            So Woodleys in Corstan was the next stop. The gang decided to split up and Holmes and Watson would interview the staff and see what they knew of Mrs Pickling while Barnaby and Troy would target the boss and get all the info on Mrs Pickling that breaks patient confidentiality but somehow that law is always broken for police officers on TV.

            "Dr Bergerac," Barnaby addressed the man sitting behind a desk in the boss's office. "Can you tell us everything you know about Mrs Pinkling?"

            "Now you know I can't do that officers. We do have this thing called patient confidentiality." (Only when it suits you)

            Bit after mildly protesting for all of a second, he gave in and gave the two detectives the files on Mrs Pinkling. (Who said you couldn't trust doctors?)

            "Mrs Pinkling was suffering from lung cancer. She was dying. For definite. I diagnosed her in May. It could have taken two weeks to two years but she would have definitely died soon."

            "Do you think that's what she did die of? I mean obviously she was shot but she was dead before that. Do you think that could have been it?"

            "Yes most probably. Obviously you'll have to check with the coroner though."

            Well if they'd just asked the forensic then they could have saved all that time and got a straight answer but no one likes to bring forensics in too much on this programme.

            So Barnaby and Troy stole the file and left. Meanwhile…

            Watson asked the cleaning lady if she'd mind answering a few questions. She looked about eighty so she might have remembered Mrs Pinkling. Watson got lucky because she did. She told Holmes that Mrs Pinkling was very quiet and didn't speak much except to talk to this old git that she was best friends with. Apparently they used to talk all the time but they would never let anyone else join in their conversations. (Meanies)

            So they attempted to ask the old git some questions about Mrs Pinkling but on account of the fact that he was half deaf and completely senile, they didn't get very far.

            "Can we ask you a few questions about a lady called Gwendolyn Pinkling? I believe you used to know her."

            "Wha' did you say love?"

            "I said can we ask you a few…"

            "Wha'?"

            "I SAID: Can we ask you a few ques…"

            "Speak up I can' hear y'see."

            "I SAID CAN WE ASK YOU A FEW QUESTIONS ABOUT GWENDOLYN PINKLING?" everyone turned round to look at Holmes screaming across the old people's home. He became aware that everyone was looking at him. "Please." He added.

            The old bloke had just about heard him. "Yeah if you want."

            "Thank you. Now I believe that you knew her."

            "Wha'? Who?"

            "Gwendolyn Pinkling."

            "Wha' about 'er."

            "Did you know her?" Holmes was beginning to lose all forms of patience.

            "Yes."

            "Ah so you did know her! We are getting somewhere."

            "I did know who?"

            "AAAAAHHHHHH!"

            "Oh you mean Gwendolyn?"

            "YES!"

            "Yeah I knew her."

            "Did she ever tell you anything about her life at all. Like who her family were?"

            "Who we talking about now?"

            "ARGH! GWENDOLYN!"

            "Who? Can I have a cuppa tea please?"

            Holmes and Watson got thrown out of the old people's home due to Holmes violently shaking the old codger and threatening him with his own Zimmer frame. They sat on the steps outside and waited for Barnaby and Troy. Barnaby was not best pleased with them.

             "You really must try not to kill our witnesses," Barnaby scolded.

            "Sorry," said Holmes. "Although he'll probably be dead in a couple of days anyway."

            Actually, this being Midsommer Murders, they didn't have to wait that long. As soon as they got back to the station, they had a call saying that an old bloke at Woodleys old people's home had been found murdered. It just happened to coincidently be the one that they had spoken to earlier and, surprisingly, Holmes had nothing to do with his death. (Which is a pity really considering he had recently had an argument with the victim and had already attempted to murder him with a Zimmer frame so I think that Holmes is a spectacular suspect.) So the whole gang ended up travelling an hour back to the place they had just half an hour ago spent two hours travelling there and back from. (Well if anyone thought to take over from Troy at driving then they may have been there within twenty minutes but of course Barnaby can't drive, it would just be too much work for him being a DCI and everything and, well, would you trust Holmes or Watson with a car?)

            When they eventually got there they spoke to Mr Bergerac who had been waiting outside for them. Holmes and Watson stayed to talk to Mr Bergerac and Barnaby and Troy (who thought it best not to let Holmes near old people ever again) went in to view the suspect and talk to some other people in the home. (Barnaby has a way with old people apparently. Too much information, I know.)

            "What was his name, Mister Bergerac?" asked Watson.

            "His name was Charles Dingbat, he was a retired army soldier."

            Holmes groaned. "ALL old people are retired army soldiers, it's nothing new!"

            "Well anyway, he had been in this home for about five years."

            "What was wrong with him?"

            "He was just old. Getting a bit deaf and senile, nothing you wouldn't usually expect from a person of his age. A bit like your Mrs Pinkling really. Apart from the dying of lung cancer bit."

            "Er-yes. How old were they?"

            "Mr Dingbat was 94 and Mrs Pinkling was 87. Mr Dingbat was too far-gone to be able to make intelligent conversation. Well conversation in general really. But Mrs Pinkling still knew what was what, as it were."

            "Did Mrs Pinkling ever mention meeting up with a lost side of her family?"

            Mr Bergerac frowned. "Not to me."

            "Okay thank you Mr Bergerac."

            Meanwhile, Barnaby was having more luck with the inhabitants of the old people's home. (In more ways than one)

            "Ooh you are charming Mr Barnaby," some old dear was saying while pouring the tea. (Well normally old people don't know how to be sarcastic but I think that this lady was well trained in the art.)

            "Thank you," Barnaby said as he took his tea. "Do you remember Mr Dingbat or Mrs Pinkling."

            "I remember them both quite well as a matter of fact. They both used to sit in the corner and talk."

            "Did you ever hear them talk?"

            "Yes I did. They would talk about the old days. Like everyone else in here."

            Troy yawned.

            "What did you think of them?"

            "They were nice people but I didn't speak to either of them that much."

            "Thank you for speaking to us."

            "Not at all Mr Barnaby, it was a pleasure."

            After a few more cups of tea and riveting conversations with the locals, Barnaby and Troy went to view the corpse. Well Barnaby did, Troy went to view the corpse for about a second and then run out again to be sick.

            Mr Dingbat had, indeed, been hit over the head with his own Zimmer frame, putting Holmes at the top of my suspects list. He was at the bottom of the stairs suggesting that after he had been hit over the head with his own Zimmer frame, he fell down the stairs. Either that or he was pushed after he was killed to make it look like an accident which was pathetic considering we have forensic science these days and anyone who thought that they could make something like that look even remotely like an accident must be inanely stupid. (Enter Holmes as number one on my list of suspects again)

             They met up with Holmes and Watson and went into town to have a cup of tea and something to eat and then they decided to give it a rest for a little while and get ready for the fair where someone (or the whole village) would undoubtedly die and maybe they could find out who was behind all these murders.

            It was a good day for the fair and there were loads of stalls and barbeques and food and people generally having a good time although it is beyond me why as Midsommer people should know that every time they have a fair (which, let's face it, is just about every week) at least ten people die. In fact, even the detectives were having a good time. Troy was attempting archery (not good-everyone take cover), Barnaby was being a sore loser at the coconut shy and Watson won a pink teddy bear for Holmes although I don't think the effort was appreciated.

            Everything was going well. Until…

            "I'm going to get some cake," Watson whispered in Holmes's ear.

            "Okay, I'll wait here," said Holmes. Watson went and Holmes spied Grant E Richard with his aunt by the hook-a-ducks. (Can't have a fair without those. It's just not right) He watched them for a bit but that got kind of boring so he watched Troy almost kill himself at the archery stall and that was much more fun.

            Watson seemed to be taking his time considering the cake stall was only about ten steps away and last time Holmes looked, there wasn't a queue. (Well no one particularly wanted any as that particular stall was run by the Woodleys old folk's home and the ancient artefacts that were making the grub were so old that it wouldn't be surprising if they ended up putting sausages in the cake instead of chocolate chips or something.)

            Holmes walked over to the tent to see if Watson had got distracted by a sheep or something but he saw a closed sign on the door. He got a bit concerned so he thought he'd better round up Barnaby and Troy so that they could investigate. He found Barnaby and Troy together by the candyfloss stall.

            "Mister Barnaby!"

            "What's wrong Mr Holmes?"

            "Well I don't know but something is definitely up. Watson went to get cake ages ago and didn't come back."

            "Oh don't worry. I'm sure he just got distracted by a sheep or something."

            "Well perhaps but I'm not sure. I went to see where he'd got to but I saw a 'closed' sign on the cake tent door."

            "Well he and the sheep were probably…er…busy."

            "But the cake tent isn't even a cupboard!"

            "It's not? Oh no something terrible has happened to Watson!"

            "Watson's missing!"

            They ran around like headless chickens for a bit until Troy announced he had an idea. (Oh great Watson is saved then)

            "Why don't we break into the cake tent instead of running round like idiots, sir?"

            "Shut up Troy."

            "Sorry sir."     

            "Be quiet everyone! Running round like idiots is getting us nowhere. Let's go and break into the cake tent and find Watson."

            "Yes sir."

            "Good idea Mister Barnaby."

            "Of course it's a good idea. Now let's go to Pikea."

            "You mean the cake tent."

            "Oh yes, the cake tent."

            Troy attempted to break the door of the cake tent down but he couldn't which was hardly unusual.

            "Come on Troy! I could do better than that!"

            "Why don't you then, sir?"

            "Er…becauuuuse… aaaanndd…that's why."

            "Oh okay."

            "We'll have to climb through the window."

            "Okay. Troy you go first."

            "But how do we know it's safe, sir?"

            "We don't."

            "Well erm…"

            "Don't worry Troy. You go in first and then if you get shot or violently killed then we know it's not safe."

            "Oh okay. I didn't think of that."

            They lifted Troy up.

            "Er-hang on…sir…SIR!"

            They pushed Troy through the window and listened for the thud at the other side.

            "Ow!"

            "What can you see?"

            "Nothing its pitch black."

            "Well is it safe?"

            "Well I haven't been shot yet."

            "Good enough."          

            Holmes went next and wriggled through and Barnaby had just about managed to get his head in (and a few strange looks from passers by who wondered why the silly bloke couldn't just use the door particularly as the key was in the lock and was quite clearly open) when there was a flood of light in the room. Grant E Richard was sitting on a chair with Watson tied up and gagged on the floor in front of him. Mr Bergerac and the rest of the inhabitants of Woodley's old gits home were lying on the floor dead in pools of blood.

            "Hello Mister Barnaby, Mister Holmes," said Grant E Richard all smarmily. "I wondered how long it would take you two to arrive." (Naturally, no one acknowledged Troy)

            Barnaby was, by this time, completely wedged in the window with his arms flailing in front of him and his legs kicking the air behind him with passers by getting very concerned at the sight.

            "I've got you right where I want you. All I have to do is shoot you one by one."

            "Er-hang on…can I just get in first. Er…can someone give me a push?" he asked to the crowd of people all gathering round to watch outside.

            "Troy help me. No not like that, like this. No look, hold my hand and pull."

            "I can't."

            "Just pull."

            Grant E Richard was watching intently.

            "Hang on Mr Richard, we'll foil your world domination plans in a minute. Troy…"

            "Hang on sir, I have an idea," he walked over to the table next to where Grant E Richard was sitting with a befuddled look on his face and picked up a lump of butter. "Sir if I sort of grease the edges of you and the window with butter then maybe we can slide you out more easily."

            Troy began spreading butter with a knife and Grant E Richard coughed politely and put the gun in his other hand so that he could look at his watch pointedly.

            "Yes won't be long, Mr Richard."

            Troy put the butter down and tried again. It didn't work but the crowd who had gathered round to watch Barnaby's plight, got kind of sick of the stupid bloke moaning all the time and about seven of them pushed his feet and eventually he slid through and landed with a thud in the tent. The crowd all started clapping and cheering and then moved on.

            Barnaby stood up and attempted to look menacing but obviously this was kind of difficult what with his previous undignified position and the lumps of yellow grease that were now outlining him.

            "Mr Barnaby, we meet again."

            "Let Watson go!"

            Grant E Richard laughed. "Even for Midsommer Murders that was pathetic."

            "Hey Midsommer Murders isn't that bad!"

            "Well I prefer Morse."

            "MORSE! MORSE!"

            "What's wrong with Morse?"

            "Well for a start I'm much younger and much more handsome."

            Everyone in the room just burst out laughing. Even the actors and actresses playing all the dead people completely forgot they were supposed to be dead and just kept laughing.

            Barnaby was quite hurt.

            "And the sergeant in that is just not er…" Troy began.

            "Shut it Lewis."

            "Er-Troy, sir."

            "Sorry, Troy."

            "Anyway, where was I? Oh yes I was about to kill your beloved Watson."

            "Leave Watson alone!" shouted Holmes.

            "Why do you care? He is having an affair you know."

            "That's a lie! Er…with who?"

            Everyone turned to look at Troy.

            "Hey don't look at me! I don't swing that way."  

            Everyone started laughing again.

            "SILENCE!"

            "Why did you kill all those people?" asked Barnaby deciding to adopt the nice cop approach.

            "Dan James and John Perkins were both impostors. I was Gwendolyn Pinkling's nephew. She was very wealthy and as soon as she died, I was her only relative left to inherit her three million pound secret estate."

            "You found out about the side of your family months ago didn't you? Gwendolyn and her sons. You knew that apart from her sons, you were the only family she had left so when they were on holiday in Tunisia, you went over there and planned to get rid of them. The only problem was that you needed someone to help you so you chose your friends Dan James and John Perkins to help you but as soon as they found out they wanted the fortune for themselves. They helped you engineer the car crash that killed Gwendolyn's three sons but it didn't get rid of her, did it? But as soon as you got home to this country, Dan and John both started pretending to be Gwendolyn's long lost nephews. They knew that due to her temperamental lung cancer treatments, she wouldn't remember already having found her long lost nephew and all it came down to was who would be around to make sure that she put their name on the will. So you killed Dan James and John Perkins and then, to make sure you would definitely inherit, you shot your aunt Gwendolyn on the green to make sure she dies before leaving a will so that it would automatically go to you. Only thing is, she died of natural causes but you didn't know that when you shot her. Then you put her on the village green and made sure we were visiting your other aunt Mrs Codswallop when you played a tape recording of a gunshot. Am I right?"

            Somehow Barnaby suspiciously knew all this.

            "How did you know that Mister Barnaby?" asked Holmes who was utterly amazed.

            "Er- I read the script," admitted Barnaby. "But, Mr Richard, what about Charles Dingbat? Why did you kill him?"

            "Er-who?"

            Holmes went red and looked around guiltily. "Well I did warn him that if he didn't start being more helpful he'd regret it." 

            "YOU KILLED A WITNESS?"

            "Er-well no! I'd say more like, I improvised."

            "Well you killed him."

            "He probably would have dropped dead at any given time anyway!"

            "OH WELL THAT'S ALRIGHT THEN!"

            "Er…look he's getting away!"

            Grant E Richard had grabbed Watson and made for the door that was very much open and ran out.

            "Damn it! He's gotten away. Hurry! Back through the window!"

            Just basically ignoring the obviously wide open door, all three of them made for the window and all three of them got stuck.

            "Er-okay, Troy if you push left then Holmes you push right and I'll just stay here and then we might be able to slide our way through."

            "No that won't work, if Troy and I get out first then we can help you thorugh."

            "No, that won't work either. If you…"

            "Sir, why don't we just use the door?"

            "Troy, don't be so stupid. It's hardly likely to be open is it? Don't you think that I explored that avenue of thinking and decided quite clearly that the door was locked?"

            Troy looked over to the wide open door which people were gathering round to watch the obvious spectacle of three of the detectives stuck in a window the size of a cat flap. "You right, sir. Sorry, sir."

            Barnaby looked over to the open door and everyone watching.

            "Wait a minute, I have an idea, why don't we just use the door? It's not locked is it? Use the window! That's pathetic. Troy you have some useless ideas. Why couldn't you see the door was open?"

            "Sorry sir."

            "What a good idea Mister Barnaby."

            So they all ran though the door just in time to see Grant E Richard disappearing into another tent and they ran after him.

Troy practically jumped on him and took the gun from him, which just proves that Troy is good for something. (Well you know)

            Holmes untied Watson (this is unusual) as Troy struggled to handcuff Grant E Richard. This was proving difficult as Grant E Richard was hell bent on getting the gun from him which was understandable really considering that he was trying to shot them and the gun ended up flying through the air and landing in Watson's hand.

            "NOOOOOO!" Grant E Richard cried as he saw his best laid plans go to waste. Troy handcuffed him and stuck him in the corner out the way until uniform arrived.

            Just then, an old bloke walked through the tent and asked for a cup of tea.

            "Er…" said Holmes unhelpfully.

            "This is the tea tent isn't it? I'd like a cup of tea please."

            "Er…"

            "Chop chop waiter! Service these days!" muttered the old git.

            No one made any attempt to move.

            "Oi you there!" the old git poked Watson. "Get to it. We didn't have to wait to be served in my days. In the good old days when I was young, waiters didn't know the word 'wait'."

            "Well you couldn't have just called them 'ers'."

            "Don't get funny," snapped the old git. "Did you think that was clever? I didn't think that was a very smart remark. Now get me my tea." He prodded Watson again.

            "Er… I think we should be going." The gang made for the door but the old git blocked it.

            "You are not going anyway until you've made me my tea," he said.

            "Look you old git," said Holmes. "We are not waiters we are detectives and I think you should get out of the way before we arrest you for obstruction."

            The old git bristled. "Don't you take that tone of voice with me, young man, that is no excuse. Now get me my tea."

            Barnaby stepped past the others. "I'll handle this," he said, putting on the charm. Well that might work for Barnaby on insane, blind old ladies but it doesn't on ordinary members of the public and this old git who wasn't impressed by Barnaby's smarmy attitude and punched him in the nose. Which was friendly.

            Barnaby picked himself up off the floor in a bad mood. "RIGHT!" he shouted. "CHARGE!" They all charged at the bloke and knocked him sideways and ran out of the door. As they were running through the crowd, another old bloke came up to them, tapped Watson on the arm and very nicely and politely asked him for the time. Watson, who was in no mood to get hassled by yet another old git, shouted, "Get out of the way, you old git," and shot him.

            "Er…" the four detectives looked at the dead corpse and the gun in Watson's hand.

            "RUN AWAY!" They shouted and ran out of the fair ground and across the green and they all took cover in Barnaby's house.

            "What's wrong?" asked Joyce as all four of them came running in and jumped under the table.

            "They're after us!"

            "Who?"

            "The police."

            "Why?"

            "Because we just brutally attacked a pensioner and shot another one."

            "Why?"

            "Because he asked what the time was."

            "And…?"

            "And Watson can't tell the time."

            This was hardly fair on Watson who could tell the time but just didn't have a watch.

            "You are the police," Joyce pointed out.

            "Oh yes. Good thinking."

            "Sir why don't we just claim self defence?"

            "Hey I have a brilliant idea, why don't we just claim self defence?"

            "What a brilliant idea Mister Barnaby."

            "Cripes, you are clever!"

            "I know."

            A few months later the gang were in the evidence box.

            "It was self defence," Barnaby explained to the judge.

            "What did the old git do?" asked the judge.

            "He asked for the time."

            "And…?"

            "And Watson can't tell the time."

            "Oh that's outrageous!" exclaimed the judge. "It was so obviously self defence. The prosecution case just immediately falls apart now. You are free to go."

            "Hurrah!"

            "Although only one question remains."

            "What?"

            "What the bloody hell is that yellow stuff you've got all over you?"