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2 November, in the year of our Lord 2014
I, Silas Conan Doyle Datchery — christened James Michael Wells — wish to preface this volume, and all the journals and case notes herein contained, with the following. Everything written here is entirely true, and free of even the slightest bias. Though they follow the workings of my own peculiar and astonishing mind, I can vouch for their complete objectivity; I swear it upon my good name as a detective. Rest at ease, dear reader, for you are in the most capable author's hands.
That having been established, I must confess that these notes and journals were not originally intended for publication in their present form. They follow to the minute my doings from September of 2011 to January of this year, 2014. Not a detail is spared, nor does any stray thought go unwritten. My methods are described in the most meticulous manner manageable for a man in the midst of the moment, and may manifest some confusion in the layman reader. In short, I had intended to publish a much cleaner, more palatable version of my findings. Posterity deserves no less. Nevertheless, the unrelenting inquiries of the public obligate me to publish this information in its most raw and expedient form. Please forgive the occasional lapse in grammar or linguistic craft.
Now let me provide some context for this volume's contents — namely, a self-introduction and a summary of my prior deeds. None is provided otherwise, and this information is necessary for understanding that which follows.
I am a detective, after the old fashion. The "old fashion" here means that above all other tools which may lie at an investigator's disposal, I give precedence to human intellect and memory. Contemporary technology is a welcome tool indeed, but it should be used only as a supplement to that intelligence with which God has endowed us. If a man cannot solve a case using only his powers of observation and memory, but instead relies largely on the information gathered by machines, he is no true detective. A detective reads the hidden language of the world, natural and unnatural. He does not look for the truth; he sees it written before him, and deciphers it with his detective's mind. That is what I do.
Prior to my visit to Druckhead, I had already applied the abovementioned tools and methods to the capture of several petty criminals, the recovery of stolen articles and pets, and the thwarting of the would-be bomber of Westminster in 2008. (For further information on this last exploit, please read the included article from the Times. It is, for the purposes of this volume, labeled "Appendix B.")
For my chief inspiration, I name two eminent gentleman of my field: Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Richard "Dick" Datchery. My professional name, as my well-read audience has surely induced, is a deliberate homage to them both. They are my models, as detectives and as human beings, and serve ever as my beacons in the growing dark of our modern world. Whenever my inductive reasoning or base of knowledge feels unsteady, I apply the methods of Holmes; likewise, when hope eludes me most, I channel the vigorous spirit of that noble gentleman, Dick Datchery. So far, their joint counsel has never led me awry.
My readers may have also remarked that Sherlock Holmes and Dick Datchery are the literary inventions of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Charles Dickens, respectively. A firm fact, and one that I acknowledge quite freely. I am proud of my fictitious inspiration. For what does fiction exist — what purpose does it serve? — if not to elevate the reader to heights otherwise unobtainable? Given the choice between a noble life through fiction, and the bog of mediocre assumptions which lesser men call "reality," I shall choose the higher road. So have I always, and so shall I persist.
The adventures contained in this volume are the direct manifestation of this attitude.
For their entertainment and instructional content, it is with complete confidence that I present them to you now.
The Complete Notes of Silas Datchery
in the Town of Druckhead
or
The Lord's Bridge Casebook
________________________________________________________________________________
Author's Note: This is my substitute for a NaNoWriMo entry. I believe that novel should be a work of meticulous care; if I'm going to take the time to write a novel, you can bet your bottom dollar that it will be perfect to my eye. However, I'd still like to develop my personal writing — and since I haven't the time to write a true novel, perfect or otherwise, this is the next-best thing.
I have a plan. I have a cast of characters, and the skeleton of a story. That having been said, I, like my conceited protagonist, will be proceeding from moment to moment. I don't know how the story will end. Hopefully I'll have enough of an audience to get useful feedback on the story as it unfolds...
But let's take things one entry at a time. I'm tired of thinking five steps in advance — aren't you?
I, Silas Conan Doyle Datchery — christened James Michael Wells — wish to preface this volume, and all the journals and case notes herein contained, with the following. Everything written here is entirely true, and free of even the slightest bias. Though they follow the workings of my own peculiar and astonishing mind, I can vouch for their complete objectivity; I swear it upon my good name as a detective. Rest at ease, dear reader, for you are in the most capable author's hands.
That having been established, I must confess that these notes and journals were not originally intended for publication in their present form. They follow to the minute my doings from September of 2011 to January of this year, 2014. Not a detail is spared, nor does any stray thought go unwritten. My methods are described in the most meticulous manner manageable for a man in the midst of the moment, and may manifest some confusion in the layman reader. In short, I had intended to publish a much cleaner, more palatable version of my findings. Posterity deserves no less. Nevertheless, the unrelenting inquiries of the public obligate me to publish this information in its most raw and expedient form. Please forgive the occasional lapse in grammar or linguistic craft.
Now let me provide some context for this volume's contents — namely, a self-introduction and a summary of my prior deeds. None is provided otherwise, and this information is necessary for understanding that which follows.
I am a detective, after the old fashion. The "old fashion" here means that above all other tools which may lie at an investigator's disposal, I give precedence to human intellect and memory. Contemporary technology is a welcome tool indeed, but it should be used only as a supplement to that intelligence with which God has endowed us. If a man cannot solve a case using only his powers of observation and memory, but instead relies largely on the information gathered by machines, he is no true detective. A detective reads the hidden language of the world, natural and unnatural. He does not look for the truth; he sees it written before him, and deciphers it with his detective's mind. That is what I do.
Prior to my visit to Druckhead, I had already applied the abovementioned tools and methods to the capture of several petty criminals, the recovery of stolen articles and pets, and the thwarting of the would-be bomber of Westminster in 2008. (For further information on this last exploit, please read the included article from the Times. It is, for the purposes of this volume, labeled "Appendix B.")
For my chief inspiration, I name two eminent gentleman of my field: Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Richard "Dick" Datchery. My professional name, as my well-read audience has surely induced, is a deliberate homage to them both. They are my models, as detectives and as human beings, and serve ever as my beacons in the growing dark of our modern world. Whenever my inductive reasoning or base of knowledge feels unsteady, I apply the methods of Holmes; likewise, when hope eludes me most, I channel the vigorous spirit of that noble gentleman, Dick Datchery. So far, their joint counsel has never led me awry.
My readers may have also remarked that Sherlock Holmes and Dick Datchery are the literary inventions of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Charles Dickens, respectively. A firm fact, and one that I acknowledge quite freely. I am proud of my fictitious inspiration. For what does fiction exist — what purpose does it serve? — if not to elevate the reader to heights otherwise unobtainable? Given the choice between a noble life through fiction, and the bog of mediocre assumptions which lesser men call "reality," I shall choose the higher road. So have I always, and so shall I persist.
The adventures contained in this volume are the direct manifestation of this attitude.
For their entertainment and instructional content, it is with complete confidence that I present them to you now.
The Complete Notes of Silas Datchery
in the Town of Druckhead
or
The Lord's Bridge Casebook
________________________________________________________________________________
Author's Note: This is my substitute for a NaNoWriMo entry. I believe that novel should be a work of meticulous care; if I'm going to take the time to write a novel, you can bet your bottom dollar that it will be perfect to my eye. However, I'd still like to develop my personal writing — and since I haven't the time to write a true novel, perfect or otherwise, this is the next-best thing.
I have a plan. I have a cast of characters, and the skeleton of a story. That having been said, I, like my conceited protagonist, will be proceeding from moment to moment. I don't know how the story will end. Hopefully I'll have enough of an audience to get useful feedback on the story as it unfolds...
But let's take things one entry at a time. I'm tired of thinking five steps in advance — aren't you?
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