Voyage 1909 Ch. 01

"Komm bitte rein," came the answer in German.

Holmes opened the door and stepped in.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, closing the door behind him. "My name is George Brown."

Sigmund Freud, seated at the table by the porthole, stopped writing in his notebook and turned to his visitor.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Brown," he said in English, with a heavy German accent. "How can I help you?"

"I was told that my wife can be found here," the sleuth said in a meek voice.

"Your wife?" The psychoanalyst looked surprised.

"Yes, she was seen with your companion this morning. So I thought that she may be..."

"Ah, you mean Herr Jung, my partner. Yeah, there came some lady and took him somewhere. But I've nothing to do with this situation, nor have any idea as to where they might be now. I understand you may be a little jealous now, but I can't help you in any way. Herr Jung is an independent man and not under my control at all. By the way, I forgot to introduce myself - Sigmund Freud."

"I know who you are," the tone of the detective's voice changed to a hoarse and confident one. "And I'm not in the least jealous of my wife. You and your companion may have fun with her any time you wish."

"I am a married man myself, Mr Brown," said Freud, "and have no wish of taking liberties with other men's wives."

"You can do it for science purposes, my dear Doctor. Well, to tell the truth my wife is not the reason for my visit. That was only an excuse."

"Then what is the real purpose of your coming here?"

"I have been well informed of you being in possession of a stash of illegal drugs, which you're trying to smuggle into the United States of America on board this vessel."

"What illegal drugs?" Freud said indignantly. "What are talking about?"

"Don't play the fool, you know very well what I'm talking about," said Holmes, giving the psychoanalyst a stern look.

"I want you to leave this cabin immediately, Mr. Brown," Freud pointed out to the door, then tried to get up to his feet but the sleuth gave him a quick push to send him back onto his chair.

"There's no rush, Herr Freud," Holmes pronounced in a commanding tone, then moved up to the closet, opened it and started rummaging inside.

"What are you doing?" protested Freud from his seat.

"Is this yours?" asked Holmed, extracting a wooden box out of the closet.

"Yes, it's mine, but there's nothing illegal in there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, there's some drug in there," Freud said calmly. "t's cocaine. But cocaine is not prohibited in America. It's a legal drug there, as well as in Europe."

"It is prohibited in the state of Georgia," declared Sherlock Holmes.

"I've no intentions of visiting Georgia, whatsoever."

"Maybe you're wrong, Herr Freud," said Holmes, with a sly smile over his face. "Maybe there's not cocaine but some other stuff inside this box. Shall we open it?"

Freud shrugged his shoulders. "Please do."

"So, what have we got here?" Holmes started opening the box slowly. "Let us see what's in there. Wow, what is this?"

The sleuth stretched his arms out to bring the box closer to Freud's face.

"What are these?" Freud cried out, looking in amazement at the array of dark brown balls inside the box. "And where's my cocaine? There was a bottle filled with cocaine powder, not this strange stuff."

"And do you know what this stuff is?" asked Holmes.

Freud examined the balls inside the box, then touched one of them.

"Looks like opium balls to me," he said in a low voice.

"You're quite an expert, Herr Freud. Yes, this is opium."

"I've got nothing to do with this stuff. I tell you once again - there must be a bottle of cocaine in this box, not these balls. Anyway, opium is not banned in America either."

"Wrong again, my dear doctor," Sherlock Holmes gave out a wide grin. "You're way behind the times. Smoking Opium Exclusion Act, enacted into law by U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt only a few months ago, bans importation, possession and use of smoking opium, to say nothing of smuggling it. By the way, I think it won't take them long to prohibit cocaine as well."

Freud looked inquiringly at Holmes.

"As I said before - this opium is not mine. I don't know how you did it but you did change the cocaine for this stuff while rifling through my closet."

A wide smile ran over Holmes' face.

"Oh, it was just some sleight of hand. I can easily perform this trick once more." Holmes closed the box, turned around, put the container back in the closet and rummaged inside it for a few seconds. Then extracted the box to light, turned to face Freud again and said: "Open it."

The psychoanalyst carefully lifted the lid.

"That's my bottle!" exclaimed Freud and took out the wide-necked bottle filled with white powder.

"Sure it's yours. You may have it," said Holmes, putting the empty box on the table.

"And the opium?" asked Freud, placing the bottle back in the box. " Where are those opium balls?"

"Forget them. You'll never see them again, if you only agree with my terms, of course."

"Your terms? What do you want of me?"

"I want to become a coke partner of yours."

"A coke partner? But I'm not selling cocaine."

"Not a selling partner, but a consuming one. I want to consume this here cocaine together with you all the time till this ship docks at New York city. Free of payment, of course."

Freud stared at Holmes in silence for a few seconds, then asked:

"What will I get in exchange?"

"I promise there will be no more tricks of this sort, especially at the U.S. customs. Besides, my wife, Josephine Brown, will never report attempted rape that a person as much interested in sexual perversions as you are might accidentally commit aboard this ocean liner."

"You are a bastard, Mr. Brown," uttered Freud.

"On the contrary, once we're partners, you're gonna love me."

Sigmund Freud stood up, closed the box and picked it up.

"Wait," Holmes motioned him to put it back on the table. "We'll start consuming it right now. Here I've got all the paraphernalia needed to make a solution."

The detective started groping inside his messenger bag.

"You use a solution to get high?" Freud gave the sleuth a look of contempt.

"Why," Holmes said, producing a syringe from the bag, "I usually make a seven-per-cent cocaine solution, then inject myself with it."

"It's you who are behind the times Mr. Brown," smirked Freud. "In Vienna we snort it now."

"Snort?"

"Put that syringe back in your bag, I'll show you the way I do it."

Freud cleared the table of the papers, then took the bottle from the box.

"You may take it away," he said, pushing the box toward Holmes.

The sleuth took the box and placed it on one of the births. Freud removed the cap from the bottle and poured some of the cocaine on the table.

"First we have to form two lines of this powder. Have you got something like a business card?"

"I think I got," replied Holmes and took a rectangular piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here it is."

Freud took the card and gave it a good look.

"Ah, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he read out, "a consulting detective, 221B Baker Street, London. So, you're a detective, aren't you, Mr. Holmes of Baker Street?"

"Well, I'm a private detective indeed," Holmes looked confused, "I must admit I've just bungled in the stupedest way. I'm under cover on this ship to solve some case of great importance to the British Crown. I can't go into details, anyway, you'd better call me Brown, Peter Brown."

"By the way, are those opium balls inside that bag of yours?" inquired Freud.

"I told you you're not to see them again. Now that we're partners," Holmes waved his hand toward the white powder on the table. "You said something about making two lines."

"Or rails, as we sometimes call them," said Freud and quickly formed two lines of the powder with the detective's business card. "And now we need something to snort this stuff with. Any banknote, or something like that?"

Holmes produced a ten pound bill and handed it over to the psychoanalyst. Freud took the bill and rolled it up.

"Now look," he inserted the rolled up bill in his nostril. "All you have to do now is take a good snort in through this bill."

Freud bent over the table and sniffed loudly one of the coke lines.

"Your turn now," he said, after he'd straightened up and taken the rolled up bill out of his nose. "Take the bill."

Holmes took the ten pound bill, stuck it in his nose and followed suit.

"Man, I like this shit," Sherlock Holmes uttered, straightening up. "How about some drink to enhance the effect?"

The sleuth extracted a bottle of Scotch from his bag, placed it on the table, drew up a chair, hung the bag on the angle of its back and sat down. "Do you have any glasses, Doctor?"

Before long Freud joined Holmes at the table, two empty glasses placed by the bottle.

"You know, Doctor Freud, I respect your ideas," said Holmes, filling the glasses with Scotch. "Sometimes they're of great help in my deductions, especially when I'm trying to bag some sexually perverted criminal. I've read most of your works, starting with your very first paper where you described how you'd been looking for the testicles in the body of the eel."

"Oh, that was more than thirty years ago."

"By, the way, did you find them?" asked Holmes, smiling widely.

"No," Freud shook his head.

"Then you may try finding them on my wife's body," Holmes chuckled.

"Your wife? But why?"

"Because she's a man," Holmes gave out a loud laugh.

"A man?"

"Yeah, he's my sidekick, Doctor Watson."

"But why is he wearing women's clothes?"

"I made him. Just for kicks. Told him it's gonna help us catch some big criminal. Well, bottoms up, Doctor Freud!" Holmes lifted his glass.

"Bottoms up is not a good idea when on a ship," Freud smiled, picking up his glass. "Better say - down the hatch, Mr Brown-Holmes!"

They at once emptied their glasses.

"Then, of course," Sherlock Holmes went on, "I've read 'The Interpretations of Dreams'. Here's my favorite piece from it."

Holmes opened his bag and took a copy of Freud's treatise. He leafed quickly through the book, found the needed page and said:

"I bet this reverie of yours was cocaine-induced. Just listen - 'I see myself as a snowman, with a carrot nose, standing in a vast field of pristine snow, all of which suddenly melts, as then do I, my nose falling off and leaving me with a feeling of profound emptiness...'

"Man, that's what you call 'castration anxiety'," the detective shut the book. "Are you really afraid of losing the 'carrot' between your legs? Is that your main fear, Doctor Freud?"

"Sometimes a carrot is just a carrot, Mr Holmes. Haven't you ever feared for your penis?"

"I only have fears for my brain, my dear doctor."

"Ah, the brain, my second favorite organ," said Freud.

"For me it's the most important part of me."

"But what about your sexual life?"

"I have no sexual life," declared Holmes.

"But what do you do when you feel horny? Masturbate?"

"I play the violin then. Sex is between the ears as well as between the legs, my dear psychiatrist."

"Well, the violin resembles the female form in a way."

"Yes, a body with the arms and legs chopped off."

"What a deviant imagination you have, Mr Holmes."

"My imagination is warped by all sorts of crime I have to deal with as a detective. Well, if you think I'm here just to get some freebie cocaine, then you're wrong, my dear doctor," said Holmes. "I'm really trying to catch a big fish round here, some huge shark of the criminal world. His name is Professor Moriarty. Just because this man is definitely showing signs of some sexual perversion, I'd like to be consulted by such a great expert as you are."

"And what are those signs?" asked Freud, picking up the bottle. "More Scotch, my dear detective?"

"Sure," said Holmes, pushing his glass toward Freud. "You see this scoundrel has been stealing paintings and statues all around Europe. Not just paintings and statues, but only those that depict naked women."

"Sounds interesting," said Freud, splashing some Scotch into the detective's glass.

"I have reproductions of some paintings he stole. I'd like you to have a look at them," Holmes extracted a few sheets of paper from his bag. "Here's the first one - Hercules and Omphale by Gustave Boulinger."

Freud took the picture in his hand and scanned it.

"Well," he said, "the famous story of mighty, masculine Hercules serving Omphale as a slave and obeying his mistress' every command."

"Yeah, she forced him to do women's work and even wear women's clothing. That macho Hercules totally submitted himself to that woman. Then in one of the museums of Naples our rascal managed to steal this sculpture, here's a photograph."

Holmes placed the photo on the table before the psychoanalyst.

"I saw this sculpture in Naples, when I visited Italy. So, he stole it, what a cheek!" commented Freud. "You see Hercules is wearing a dress here, and naked Omphale is holding his famous club. The club undoubtedly symbolizes his penis here. The girl deprived him of his penis, it's obvious."

"Yeah, she snatched his carrot from him," Holmes chuckled. "Now next painting, Aristotle and Campaspe by Alessandro Turchi."

Holmes handed the picture over to Freud.

"A man dominated by a naked woman once more," said the psychoanalyst. "This time it's not a man of muscle but that of intellect. And again the man's will is subdued to the power of the female body. Campaspe, a mistress of Alexander the Great, proved that her female charms could easily overcome the male intellect of Alexander's teacher, Aristotle, when the great philosopher let her be his dominatrix."

"One more picture," said Holmes, putting another reproduction on the table. "Socrates reproaching Alcibiades by Anton Petter."

"Yes, I know this tale, Socrates is trying to get one of his students out of the brothel in order to teach him some philosophy. But the poor guy can't leave all those naked girls. What does all that philosophy matter to him when compared to the female body?"

"Now this one," Holmes produced one more picture. "Phryne before the Areopagus by Jean-Léon Gérôme."

"Phryne, a legendary Greek courtesan who was put on trial for impiety," commented Freud, "but was acquitted after her defender removed her robe and exposed her naked form. All those male judges couldn't resist the beauty of her female body. Well, Mr. Holmes, I'll give you my opinion about this professor Moriarty but only after we have our drinks."

"You see," said Freud, after the both emptied glasses were put back on the table, "this man is totally and completely into Female Domination, or Femdom, as I abbreviate the phrase."

"Femdom?" asked Holmes.

"Yes, it's quite obvious to me that he loves the idea of men submitting to women, especially naked women, the idea of the female body dominating over the male brain, strength and will. Total female domination and utter male submission. That's all I can tell you about that man as a psychoanalyst."

"So, the Napoleon of crime is into Femdom," Sherlock Holmes laughed loudly. "This changes a lot!"

7.

"Mr. Marvin, could you please join us for a minute?"

Arthur Marvin stopped in the middle of the awning deck cafe and looked at the couple seated at the table to his right.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"My name is Henry Faifax," the young man rose from his chair and offered his hand.

"And this is my girlfriend, Jane Carter," Fairfax said, after the men shook hands. "Please do take a seat, Mr. Marvin. I won't keep you long, just a couple of words. Any drink?"

"Nice to meet you, Miss Carter," Marving said, taking a seat by the chair. "Well, I think I'll have something with Bourbon."

"Waiter, a mint julep for our guest, please, an old fashioned for me and a Martini for my girlfriend," Faifax made an order.

"So, what is it you want to talk with me about?" asked Marvin, leaning back in his chair.

"I and Jane have seen all your films, Mr Marvin. We just adore them. You're undoubtedly one of the greatest American filmmakers."

"I'm quite flattered to know you're acquainted with my flicks. You're British, I suppose?"

"Yes, I am an actor from London," replied Fairfax. "A stage actor, but I'm a great fan of cinematography and intend to start an acting career in motion pictures. That's the purpose of my journey to America."

"I assume you want my advice, Mr. Fairfax."

"Well, I'd be pleased to know the best way to get into this business."

"You see, in order to star in a movie..."

"A movie?"

"Yeah, movies, that's how we call motion pictures in America," Arthur Marvin explained. "So, to appear in a movie you must have the right connections first of all."

"Can you be one of my connections?" Henry Faifax smiled bashfully, taking his old fashioned, after the waiter had delivered their drinks.

Arthur Marvin took his drink and looked straight into the young actor's eye.

"Why don't you put it straight - you want me to give you a role in one of my movies, don't you?" the filmmaker took a sip of his cocktail.

"Well, yes, you see," Fairfax faltered, "we can have a sort of audition to let me show you my acting skills and abilities. I could read some lines from famous plays. Oh, I know, films are silent, therefore, of course, verbal skills are useless. Well, I may perform some dumbshow in order to demonstrate my body language, to express the full gamut of emotions with my face."

"To tell the truth, Mr Faifax, I don't usually negotiate with aspiring actors, but all this sea around, this fresh, briny smell in the air, all this atmosphere of transatlantic voyage is so conducive to friendly chatting with my fellow voyagers, that I may even make you an interesting proposition. After you have an audition, of course."

"Really?" Jane Carter exclaimed happily. "You may give Henry a role in a motion picture?"

"I may," replied the filmmaker, finishing his drink.

"Waiter, another round of drinks, please!" Henry Fairfax cried out, joyfully squeezing Jane's hand. "Just the same as before."

"Henry, I've not finished mine yet," said Jane.

"We must celebrate it, dear Jane! So, Mr. Marvin, could you tell us more about your proposition?"

"Well, we're going to start shooting a new movie very soon," said Marvin. "It's about the Trojan War, mostly about Helen of Troy. You could play the part of Menelaus, the husband of Helen. What do you say to that?"

"I say I like the idea. That'd be really terrific to play that part," replied Fairfax. "Menelaus, a character so tragic and painful."

"Yeah, the famous cuckold of the ancient world. You're right about the painful side of his fate, I'd say very painful for there's one important scene full of pain and agony in our movie. When Menelaus at last finds Helen at the very end of the war, she kicks him hard right in his groin."

"She kicks him in what?" Henry Fairfax asked, a confused look over his face. "You mean she kicks him in the..."

"Yes, that's what I mean, she kicks him in the balls."

"I hope it'll be some fake kick," Fairfax shook his head, "otherwise it's going to be very painful."

"No fake kicks in my motion pictures," said Marvin. "Everything should be real. Passions, emotions, fights, kicks, just as well as the actor's pain. And no stunt men or body doubles for this scene."

"But that means that I, if I take this part.., it means I will be kicked in the balls," muttered Fairfax.

"And more than once, for we usually do several takes for every scene," Atthur Marvin declared confidently.

"Jane, you hear that?" Fairfax turned to his girlfriend. "He wants my balls to get busted by some bitch actress."

"It's not some actress you're gonna be kicked by. Anna Pavlova, the greatest balerine, is going to play the part of Helen. At the moment she and I are in the process of negotiating the terms of her contract."