This story is part of the A-Z challenge that I’m doing.
221B Baker Street. The address where the amazing deductions happened, including his very last.
Sherlock Holmes was in his room, smoking when he deduced that he was a fictional character. I don’t know what gave him the hint — perhaps, he realized a pattern in his deductions. When creating the character, I made sure, he would not be a character who’d read a lot. Holmes was created to mostly read crime reports and not enjoy them even. Thus, the idea that he saw patterns in his own life similar to other fictional characters goes out of the window. It must be something else. I am yet to figure it out.
Regardless, it was his last deduction, making the case he was working on unsolved. I was writing page number 211 when it happened. My last call with the publisher didn’t go well.
“How many pages, Doyle?” publisher asked.
I replied, “Eleven thousand one hundred twenty-nine, sir.”
“Has he solved the case yet?”
“I am afraid not, sir. He isn’t making deductions anymore. He has realized the sooner he solves the case, the nearer his end is. He is moving slowly as to delay the end of the story.”
Hopelessness was visible in the publisher’s voice. He asked, “And there’s nothing you can do about it?”
“He keeps murmuring ‘BORED! BORED! BORED!’ in his room but there’s one thing. I am afraid it’d make the situation any better.”
“Doyle, we cannot go ahead publishing this work of yours. One book, eleven thousand pages, and an unsolved case. I will go bankrupt. You had a good run. Do whatever you want to do because this is the last time we are talking.”
And therefore, “The Case of Chimpanzee in the Airplane” ends with the planet blowing up.
— Conan Doyle