by Anton Wills-Eve

<a href=””>The Interview</a>

choose someone fictitious to interview


It was the last straw. The interest rates at all banks and financial institutions were so low that Dr. John Watson had no idea how he was going to carry on if he did not dip into his capital. He had some £40,000 in his current account at the Royal Bank of Spain and Northern Morocco, but as his good friend, the great detective, became ever cleverer at devising ways of saving his patients’ lives the good physician found he was making less and less money out of curing the rich. His friend was too clever at assuring they were never ill. 

“I say, you couldn’t help a chap out of a scrape, could you old man?”

“And what sort of scrape would that be, Watson. I see you have no mud on your shoes so it is not a bootscraper, and as you know nothing about the culinary arts it cannot be scraping butter onto bread. Enlighten me Watson.”

The good doctor sighed and said, ” I fear I shall have to sell my home if I am to maintain my current standard of living. I am down to my last £40,000.”  The gaunt sleuth eyed his friend with quiet concern but suddenly rose to his feet, lit his pipe, shot some dope into his arm and reached for his violin.

“ my dear chap, how can you help me in that condition? I need money, not the sad necessity of attending your funeral!” Came the worried crie de coeur.

“Elementary my dear Watson. If I pop round to the television studios dressed like this they will sign me up for a mini series at once and shower me with enough money for both of us to live happily for years.” Watson was stunned. Could he let his friend risk being shunned by casting teams who had not even heard of him? Alas he had no choice, he had to let his friend do as he pleased.

It was four months after the mini series had taken the world by storm and made both men very rich indeed that I, a young cub reporter, was asked by my editor to interview the great man and ask him how he had managed to get  the part and assure the series’ success.

“Tell me Sir,”I asked in an awed whisper when he granted me an audience, “How did you do it?” I noticed the faithful Watson curing a rich man in the background.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how I did it, but all my inspirational devices and ruses, together with my scientific logic, must have worked at once. How do you think I pulled it off, Watson? ” he asked turning to his trusted colleague.

The doctor smiled whimsically at him and replied, “By calling the series Sheerluck Holmes.”

Which is also, of course,  how I became editor of my newspaper.