The Vanity of Men

By Richard Saw

It had been over a year since the events that had fractured the highly successful relationship between the London Metropolitan Police and Holmes occurred. And now the newly-promoted Chief Inspector Pomfrett was staring at an unsolvable crime. The sort of crime that Holmes was famous for solving, the sort of crime that being associated with, had resulted in Pomfrett’s promotion.
There had been an assault on a man in a gay club in Lambeth with little clue as to who or why. Except that there had been another one with vaguely similar characteristics in Tower Hamlets. And another in Westminster. This was just the sort of case that Holmes could help them with but he refused to budge from his declaration that their association was at an end. When Pomfrett’s forceful attempt at reconciliation are met with defiance, his loyal associate Inspector Garrigues offered to try another route. John Watson.
The good doctor Watson was well aware that his boyfriend was no longer involved with the Met, even if no one had been willing to explain what had caused it. When his new friend Jane Grosz (neé Marple) suggested she investigate the rift, Watson is surprisingly willing. When Garrigues approaches him to help on a case that clearly is meant for Holmes, he’s convinced that something bigger is afoot.
As Holmes undertakes an investigation where he’s forced to disguise himself as a 20-something gym bunny, go under-cover as a personal trainer for an aspiring movie star and use the talents of a Belgian chef (Herc Pirot), a transsexual salon owner (Nancy Drew) and two incorrigible beauty therapists (The Hardly Boys), he also comes face to face with someone who brings with them a warning that Holmes will be punished for his past.
How will Holmes protect himself from his past, at the same time uncovering a crime so heinous in nature that it will shock Chief Inspector Pomfrett to his core? Read on as the 10th book in the Holmes & Watson series takes you back to London to answer this question along with other vital enquires such as, where exactly has Dr Martin disappeared to? What is the only brand of riding crop you should buy? Who could be the mysterious ‘puppy master’ known for dressing only in leather and tweed? And what sort of person schedules a Christmas Card buying weekend?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Saw
• Release date: Jan 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370853113

Richard Saw

Richard Saw is a long time London resident who fell in love with the city when he fled his native Australia in the vain hope that he’d land a real job. Author of ‘From Breakfast to Whenever: The Eating Guide to Soho’ and a struggling media executive, he started writing the Holmes & Watson novels as a love letter to the city, the men and the lifestyle he’d fallen in love with.

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The Vanity of Men

A Holmes & Watson Novel

Richard Saw

Copyright © 2016 by Richard Saw

First published as an ebook in 2016

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

That being said, some famous people do turn up in this and subsequent novels to add flavour or perspective.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binging or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

ISBN: 9781520499833

Thank you to all those people who got slightly tipsy over lunch with me and told me stories which are included in one way or another in this book. I was serious when I told you …that’s going in my next novel.

Stay in touch with the author on Twitter @authorofholmes, search for Kevin James on Facebook or if you’re looking for something a little naughtier, check out Todd Mitchell’s twitter account @gayjockgeek or the Tumblr account The Erotic Side of Holmes & Watson by searching for ‘authorinsearchof’.

In memory of Paris Gym and all those other gay businesses who were there for many gays and lesbians during times when it wasn’t always safe to be out and whose passing is merely a sign that it’s actually now easier to be gay in general society.

But what they gave the community back then should not be forgotten.

Prologue I

The meeting was taking place in a lawyers office. But not the lawyer’s office that the client wished it was taking place in. No matter how many lawyers he and his business partners hired, he refused to think of any one of them as ‘his’ lawyer. ‘His’ lawyer was based in London. All the other lawyers were not ‘his’ lawyer. ‘His’ lawyer was the perfect soulless English gentleman with no morals and excellent taste in suits.

He had been driven all the way to Geneva from Milan and apart from the border, the car hadn’t stopped until they were at the office – safely in Switzerland. It had been a long time in that Italian jail. You were supposed to be able to bribe people in Italy. He had thought he would have been safe, he would not serve any time, and if he did, he would be out quickly. But things had not worked out as he had planned and it had been five long years. He remained bitter every day of his incarceration despite the fact he knew it would have been worse back home in Georgia or in his adopted home of Russia. He of all people shouldn’t have needed reminding of that but he was a selfish man and just the basic restrictions on his life that he had suffered in the Italian jail had made him even more bitter and resentful of the outside world.

He sat in the Chesterfield chair and ground his teeth in anger. Even now he was out of jail he could do nothing but bitterly resent the experience. He paused in his fuming to look across at the one business partner who had come to escort him back to civilisation. She at least had always been there for him, though he’d ensured her loyalty by preventing her getting her hands on any of the money or assets they had accumulated in their time together. A precautionary action to be sure but only foolish people trusted others.

He looked up with a start to realise all the lawyers had suddenly stopped talking to each other in Swiss French and started to smile at him. As a matter of principal he didn’t trust any lawyer that spoke in a language other than English. And even then he had only trusted one lawyer. ‘His’ own.

Monsieur we are very glad to see you are looking well after surviving incarceration, the senior partner smoothly said. Perhaps we can offer you a coffee?

I have been banged up in an Italian prison, he snarled. "Coffee was the only thing they did well. Starting my day with a fuckin’ hideous French café au lait will get you all sacked."

Very well, the lawyer sniffed. "Perhaps we should get down to business then. We have done as you instructed and we investigated further as to how your troubles, he cleared his throat, Began."

The client waved his hand for them to continue.

We had to use some, shall we say, unorthodox techniques, the lawyer took great pleasure in remarking, To gather the information you required.

And you’ve been paid fucking well for it, he replied as he watched his business partner wipe her hands on her skirt when she thought he was not looking. He frowned at her and she immediately stopped. He had taken her from the slums where she had grown up into his own home. He had taught her so well that when she was on a mission her background was virtually undetectable regardless of the people she was engaging with. But he couldn’t make her a lady if he tried.

It turns out that we were able to find out where the leak came from, the lawyer proudly proclaimed. After many months of exceedingly difficult work.

Yes, yes, he muttered. Get on with it.

It turned out it was a minor English lawyer in your employ, the Swiss lawyer said with a hint of braggadocio in his voice as if he was suggesting that a Swiss lawyer would never betray a confidence such as this.

Do you know his name?

That is no secret. His name is Stephen Holmes.

No! the client yelled, for the first time becoming animated.

Unfortunately yes, the lawyer began to take his glasses off, revelling in his client’s discomfort, You know of him?

I told you he couldn’t be trusted, his business partner couldn’t resist smirking.

He can’t be the leak. He can’t be. You need to investigate again, he muttered aloud.

I’m afraid it’s all true, the Swiss lawyer said. We’ve got email and photographic evidence. Everything needed to prove that he did ‘sell you down the river’ – as the English say.

It is the end for him, I swear on my mother’s grave, he declared.

Prologue II

The three old friends fell into an uncomfortable silence for the first time that any of them could remember. For once their wine glasses remained full and one of them played with the rim of his glass uncomfortably. The game they had played for years had begun with such innocent endeavours, as a demonstration of the love and admiration they had for each other. It had been what had kept them friends over the years as circumstances changed and they drifted apart socially. But now as the objects that formed part of the game – the empty wine bottle, the carefully selected photographs, even the circular table – lay before then, no one felt able to begin. The objects all seemed tainted.

And now it seemed they could no longer even agree on the rules. Rules which remained unspoken but agreed were now being disputed. All the participants felt sure that his own interpretation of the rules was correct. And now one friend felt another had betrayed the game by involving an outsider. One was horrified that another had introduced illicit drugs into the game, and the third was horrified that another was bragging about the perverted things he’d done. But what they all could agree on was that the game had to continue regardless. It had to.

They met this time in the downstairs room of Champagne + Fromage in Covent Garden. They never met in the same location twice. At the beginning that had been just another funny little twist of the game. Now they were all glad of the secrecy. Their eyes met each other and slowly they drained their glasses and, no longer sober – and no longer friends – they began to use the pieces of the game to begin another round. All of them silently swearing that this would be the very last time they would participate.

Chapter One

The sun might have been out, its rays were blindingly bright to be sure but there was no mistaking it. Winter wasn’t long gone as the smallest gust of wind sent cold rushing through Watson’s body on that crisp morning in early March. He shivered in spite of the long coat, scarf and gloves he was wearing and muttered, Good Lord! quietly so as not to draw the attention of the lady standing beside him.

The ground in Hyde Park was soft and unstable to the footing so he found himself having to hastily relocate to the pavement. ‘Why,’ he thought to himself, ‘Did Holmes always choose such elaborate locations for his plans?’

Watson turned and found himself smiling awkwardly to the woman who, along with her son, stood waiting beside him. They smiled back, neither showing any desire for small-talk and thus remained silent. Perhaps it was a result of the unseasonable weather, but Watson was convinced they were as anxious as he was. ‘Where is Holmes?’ he fumed. He found himself looking again at his watch as a matter of habit before another involuntary shiver ran through him.

Just as he was wondering if he should be concerned, he heard the clip-clopping of horses coming toward them. But the sound was from behind and all three of them turned together, surprised by the direction. Holmes’ big calves gave his tight jeans the look of jodhpurs but the cavalry boots he wore were the real deal. Well Gucci at the very least. And despite the cold, Holmes was wearing only a Holland Cooper tweed jacket and scarf, a look that despite not having grown up in the countryside, he managed to carry off. His helmet rested in the crock of his arm and his George James riding crop, along with the reigns of the stunningly muscular chestnut mare he was riding on, where in the other. A smaller, but nonetheless beautiful pony, trotted alongside riderless.

Where did you get these horses from? Jane Grosz gasped. I thought the Hyde Park Stables were on the other side of the park. That’s why I couldn’t understand why you said to meet here.

These are actually from the Hyde Park Barracks, Holmes gestured over his shoulder. They’re part of the Household Cavalry. This handsome creature, he stroked the mare’s neck with a display of public affection that John rarely saw granted to himself, Has been riding in front of the Queen for many a year. And this little bundle of joy, he tousled the mane of the pony, Is her progeny and well on the way to carrying on the family responsibility.

Jane glanced over at her son and the look on Layton Grosz-Marple’s face was one of pure awe. John had to agree, it was a magnificent beast… and the horses were handsome too, no doubt about it.

The previous weekend over a Sunday roast, Layton’s two mothers had let slip that he was developing a slight phobia towards animals and while they thought that getting him riding lessons might help him overcome it, they had been unable to find an appropriate class or the right teacher for him. John – who had plenty of experience on horseback – was still wondering where he could get a horse from when Holmes nominated himself as tutor. Jane and Helen had jumped at the offer and later when John tried to offer his additional assistance due to the fact he was unsure of Holmes’ riding skill, his partner had smiled and shook his head.

Now, as they stood freezing in the park, Watson couldn’t stop himself wondering how it had never been mentioned before that Holmes knew members of the Household Cavalry.

Well, are you ready? Holmes asked Layton as he jumped down. As scared as the boy was at the thought of riding a horse, he looked grimly determined not to lose face in front of his hero, so he nodded firmly and tightened the chinstrap of his helmet.

Layton shrugged off his mother’s hand and walked with a firm stride over to the pony, patting the muzzle in the manner of an experienced rider.

Now I’m going to give you a leg up so you can put a foot in the stirrup and swing your other leg over, Holmes instructed, handing the reigns of his own horse to John temporarily. Do you understand?

Left foot in this side, swing over, Layton repeated in a serious tone. I think I can handle that.

Holmes gave Layton a firm nod and John couldn’t fail to notice the muscles flex underneath the jacket as he easily hoisted Jane and Helen’s only child onto the back of the pony.

Now you keep a tight hold of those reins, Holmes instructed as he then mounted the back of the thunderous military horse that he was to ride, looking – for all intent and purpose – as if he had been born on the back of a horse. With a nod and a quick wink at John, Holmes then gently encouraged his horse forward and Layton’s pony followed its mother at a slow canter. Watson watched as the two riders disappeared into the mist, Layton looking self-assured in the company of his hero. John couldn’t deny how envious he was of Holmes’ self-confidence. Here – doing something he hadn’t done for years – Holmes was fearlessly convinced of his own skills. It was quite remarkable. Suddenly Watson felt the cold again. ‘Good Lord it’s freezing,’ he thought as he rubbed his hands on his arms desperately.

Time for a coffee? Jane interrupted his thoughts with a delicate sniff. Even though she’d not made a single comment about the cold, John had observed that she hadn’t moved her hands from her pockets the whole time they’d been in the park.

God yes! John agreed, secretly glad that it was now just the two of them and they headed off to the Lido Café by The Serpentine.

So I hear your husband is thinking of relocating you both to West London, Jane said as they reached the café.

Yes, so I’m lead to believe, John couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He has this amusing habit of making a grand declaration of a solution and then leaving you to try and work out what on earth the problem was in the first place. This one I believe is the result of him having turned forty and wondering if we need to move to a neighbourhood more appropriate than Soho to ‘settling down’. Hence West London – specifically Parsons Green I believe. Personally I don’t think two gay men without children should be thinking about ‘settling down’ until we’re at least sixty, especially with the life we live, but there you go. If anyone else would have suggested it, he would have been horrified but when it ‘occurs’ to him, well then…

Sixty? Jane queried as they untangled themselves from their coats and sat down at a table. She chose to ignore the rest of Watson’s explanation and focused on just one point. Why sixty? Isn’t that a little late for middle-age?

Who’s talking about middle-age? Watson chortled. We’ve technically reached that! ‘Settling down’ is a different concept. I don’t really even think that has a meaning for gay men, at least the ones like us who don’t want children. Hell we’re struggling with the thought of even raising a puppy. We both work long hours, we like travelling and we like to eat out. What’s the big draw of suburbia? Bad coffee? And of course we have enough investments between the two of us so it doesn’t come down to being a financial decision.

But what about getting married?

John stopped his outpouring for a second and frowned. No, no, that’s not on the agenda yet. Or ever, who knows…

Oh! Jane said, halting the conversation as the waitress came over to take their order. Once interrupted, the discussion drifted on to other inconsequential topics until their order arrived. As Jane replaced the cup in its saucer after taking a cautionary sip she returned to the original question and asked, But is turning forty reason enough for Holmes to think he needs to change his life? Both your lives even? I presume you get a say in it?

Of course, John smiled. It really has nothing to do with him turning forty and despite what he might say, I’m fairly confident he wouldn’t dream of doing anything without getting my agreement. No, he paused to take a sip of the underwhelming coffee, I’d almost think that there’s something deeper affecting him at the moment. On a slight tangent, do you realise that the amount of time Holmes and I have spent with you and The Matriarch over the last year, he used Helen’s unofficial title, Is greater than what we’ve spent with almost any other couple in the past?

I’ll be honest, Jane mused. It has come up. I’ve always thought it had a lot to do with Layton. Not that we ever felt Layton needed male role models in his life, especially…

With Helen around, John smirked.

Exactly, and it’s not as if Holmes is ‘appropriate male role model number one’, Jane laughed. But Layton enjoys being with Holmes so much that I wouldn’t dream of not encouraging it. I actually think that Layton is actually good for Holmes as well.

John lifted an amused eyebrow and Jane hastened to add, Not that I’m trying to compare Holmes’ social skills to Layton’s.

Yes indeed. Perish the thought, John chuckled. But you’re not wrong. You wouldn’t think it of him but he’s quite the different person around children. I’ve never truly worked it out. And they certainly react to it as well. But before you ask, it’s not part of a sudden desire to be a father. It’s something else…

Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise, a chipper voice interrupted their conversation. Detective Inspector Ian Pomfrett of the Metropolitan Police force had if anything in John’s opinion, become more handsome as his career progressed. It hadn’t stopped him being any less annoying though.

Inspector Pomfrett! John exclaimed. He would have said something more sarcastic if he hadn’t been immediately aware of the three plain clothes constables standing behind Pomfrett, so Watson settled for reaching up to shake hands. This is Jane Grosz. A friend, he added, introducing his companion and not bothering to mention that she had been involved in past investigations. The less information he had gifted to him, the better as far as Watson was concerned, when it came to Pomfrett.

"It’s Chief Inspector now actually," Pomfrett said with a typically smarmy smile crossing his face. He leant over to give Jane a limp handshake to demonstrate how little he was interested in her.

Oh well… congratulations! John replied. He tried to look around Pomfrett to see if any of the constables were within hearing distance before adding, So I’m given to understand you’re back with the Met now?

Pomfrett nodded as though he was bored of the conversation which, since he’d started it, was a strange way to behave. So is Holmes around? he asked, trying to sound casual. And failing.

No…Sorry, John replied, drawing the syllable out and deciding not to mention that his partner was in fact, nearby. He was amazed with the ease in which he could be dishonest to a police officer. When he was younger he would never have dreamt of doing anything like that but Pomfrett’s persona seemed to encourage the more devious side to Watson’s nature.

Oh that’s a shame. Very well, the newly promoted Chief Inspector seemed to have drawn a quick conclusion to the conversation, and therefore gave a firm nod before taking a step back. It’s good to see you Dr Watson. Jane, he gave one final polite nod and signalled for his constables to follow him out of the café.

Ahh Pomfrett, John smiled at her disappearing back. A mystifying pleasure as always. When Jane didn’t respond, he turned back to face her, only to see her deep in thought. Jane?

My goodness I think I’ve worked out why Holmes is thinking about moving to West London and getting married! she declared.

I beg your…

That was the policeman that Holmes works closely with, wasn’t it?

Yes you’re right. I was just going to explain to you about their mutual history but he left so quickly it really didn’t seem relevant, John apologised.

Well I swear that wasn’t some chance meeting, Jane said, her eyes wide open with excitement. Those constables that were with him, I recognised them. Remember when Holmes arrived with the horses? Well I remember seeing them lingering nearby.

That was… observant of you, Watson said slowly.

Jane shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. So you suspect Holmes is distracted by something then? And then that chief inspector wanted to talk to him just now. But if I was him, I would just drop by his office, no? But he wasn’t. He was lurking nearby in the mist of Hyde Park. And you tell me this extra-curricular activity of Holmes’ is very important to him. Given the chief inspector’s behaviour, it’s reasonable to suggest that there has been a break-down in the relationship between Holmes and the police. And if he’s being denied his hobby, well it stands to reason that he might be thinking about the direction his life is taking. And maybe that leads him to thinking about moving to West London and marriage – which he is obviously thinking about because when I mentioned it you stopped and frowned rather than laughed it off. Jane took a deep breath and looked at John brightly.

You know I already have one smart-arse in my life, John replied. I really don’t need another one!

But what do you think? Jane asked, ignoring her former gynaecologist’s response and continuing to look at him for clarity over her explanation. Am I right?

Well you’re not wrong, sighed John as they got up to leave. I have to admit, I have been concerned about his lack of extra-curricular work myself. I did try to bring up the topic one time but he just avoided it and then distracted me from mentioning it again.

So when was the last time he was involved in an investigation? Jane asked. Perhaps that’s where things went pear-shaped?

Do you not have anything to do these days? Watson teased as they walked back out into the cold.

"Being a mother is so boring! she snorted. And I don’t even get a chance to organise Layton’s after-school activities. The Matriarch says that if she doesn’t manage his activities while she’s holding down the job then she won’t be part of his growing-up. So I’m reduced to bemoaning the gender issues of toys on Mumsnet."

And since you have a boy, Watson amused himself by pointing out the obvious, There can’t be many gender issues you can reference.

Exactly! exclaimed Jane. I’m that bored!

John chuckled and drained the rest of the coffee. When he had finished, he began. Well when I think about it, the last time I remember Pomfrett’s name being mentioned by Holmes was about a year ago.

I could investigate it for you if you like.

Investigate what? John asked, cautious now that Jane seemed to be showing so much interest.

Well I could poke around and find out why Holmes and the Met’s relationship is fractious.

But how would you do that? Watson asked, though he didn’t bother to ask ‘why’.

Jane shrugged her shoulders. I have my ways. And don’t forget…

You’re bored, yes I remember, John sighed. You know you’re no longer my patient. You can’t demand that I make your life more interesting.

You didn’t say no though, Jane chuckled. She also didn’t comment on the fact that John had questioned neither why she would do this nor why she would give him the information and not Holmes. That fact was left unspoken between the two of them.

You, Jane Marple, John pointed out as they headed back to where they could expect to see Holmes and Layton return, Are almost too clever for your own good.

***

Celine Hudson looked at the bouquet of flowers on her desk with undisguised horror. There was no doubt that they were beautiful and the Paula Pryke sash indicated that Chief Inspector Ian Pomfrett at least had good taste when it came to trying to bribe her, but she couldn’t believe he thought he could influence her so easily. On the other hand it was nice to have an admirer now that Andrew Burger had retired. It occurred to Celine that Detective Garrigues had not yet tried this route and she suspected that it wouldn’t even cross Virginie’s mind to try and charm someone, not even another woman. Which was the sort of attitude that made Celine like the detective just that little bit more.

Pomfrett’s attempt to gain her attention was so transparent and his ambition so blatant that Celine felt comfortable in her ability to handle anything he tried. It had of course been a different story with the sophisticated banker Andrew Burger. While he had been nothing but polite and respectful of her, she never knew what his desire was going to be until the very last moment.

She carefully removed the bouquet and placed it underneath her desk before wiping the surface down to remove any residual trace of it. Her boss was extraordinarily observant and she didn’t need his awkward questions until she’d decided how best to play this. Celine was well aware that the cosy relationship between Holmes and the Met had broken down – which had in fact been good for Fothergill, Patricks & Havers as he had spent most of the last year focusing on their ever-increasing workload instead of his infamous extra-curricular activities. Then after three months of silence, Celine had started to receive random phone calls from Pomfrett. Taking the responsibility that was the hallmark of a good EA, she had promised but failed to pass the messages along.

Celine had just managed to sit down when she spied Holmes exiting the lifts and walking quickly towards his office. He already had his ‘game face’ on which suggested that he was thinking about work-related issues. And that was a good thing for her as he was less likely to notice anything untoward. Good morning Holmes, she greeted him in the same way she did every day.

Morning, he mumbled and carried on. But just as she was breathing a sigh of relief, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob to his office and sniffed the air.

Flowers! he proclaimed and turned around to add, But I don’t see the bouquet and your husband doesn’t send them to you and it’s not your birthday…

‘Fat lot of good that did me,’ Celine sighed internally, deciding that next time she would just dump them on someone else’s desk. Before he had the chance