The Baker Street Record

[featherfish]

A/N: Presenting: an epic Sherlock Holmes/House of Leaves crossover. This was written for Part III of the Sherlock Holmes kinkmeme over at sherlockkink. It was a long and wonderfully arduous process and certainly the most rigorous exercise in dual pastiche (not to mention HTML) that I've ever engaged in. The original prompt was made by buriedbooks in Part II, then

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The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (1/14)

[featherfish]

THE IMPOSSIBLE CASE OF MR. JOHN ASTERION5

[5]: As was earlier mentioned, it was apparent that Holmes was already engaged on a case at the time of the events of The Baker Street Record, and though it seems quite plain that Watson did note it down, as was his custom, details of the case are extremely scattered and inconsistent. What remains is enough to show that the case was unusually complex and involved, and that Watson had taken great pains to take down as much information as he could, in as much detail as he could. It is unclear why he went through so much trouble to do so and then, so comparatively unmethodically, to wipe most of the record out. Much of it is burned, torn, scribbled out or lost altogether. Of what remains, some is rather informative, and some is utterly incoherent.

From what I can divine, it concerns the matter of a man named John Asterion˟, whose name is invariably written in red ink and struck out, a curious tendency with which I have chosen to comply. Certain portions of the case itself are also done in this

The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (2/14)

[featherfish]

It was at this time I decided there was nothing further we could do, that the case was not providing an adequate diversion from the constant reminder that we were unable to be at rest in our own house, and that if we wanted to maintain our sanity we were going to have to leave it.

Holmes was, unsurprisingly, adverse to the idea.

“If we stop now, Watson, we shall lose sight of our objective entirely,” he said distractedly, his attention quite fixed on a sheaf of papers covered in illegible scrawling.

“Our objective?” I said wearily. “We don’t even know what that is, Holmes.”

He gave me a brief, sharp stare, but said nothing and shortly went back to his examination. He was still quite sore at me for my treatment of the matter of the inexplicable door, and it had been especially hard to provoke friendly conversation of late.

“Consider this,” he said.6

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The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (3/14)

[featherfish]

The featured piece, Holmes was delighted to learn, was Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 16 in F Major, Op. 135.

“A fascinating work,” he said animatedly as we made our way to our seats. It cheered me wonderfully to see him so enlivened, and I myself felt much better to escape the confines of our house. “His last, in fact, and one of his finest. The final movement is particularly exquisite-Der schwer gefaßte Entschluß.7 Did you know

The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (4/14)

[featherfish]

*

--------for what seemed like days we remained in our house looking over the many assorted papers and letters of our client. Mr. Asterion was a curious man whose reputation somewhat preceded him, accused by many of arrogance and misanthropy, even madness, who made many claims throughout his writings thatXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
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*

Holmes was convinced that some of his writing was not his own.9

*

Of course I do not lack for distractions.
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There are rooftops from which I can hurl myself until I am bloody.
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(Sometimes I actually fall asleep

The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (5/14)

[featherfish]

To holmes and to watson every house allows variation even now every vibration every ripple meets evenly there it sends softly uncontrollable resolution endless like you cannot attain understanding swallowed edges forgotten only revolutions you only undertook these open limitations of our kind unfortunate people or none the house it speaks utter nonsense cadences of nothing very enlightening nothing that is or nothing at least leaves everything this that ends rightly where in the house shadows open moreover emptiness stares unto stairs plunging into centrally its own nowhere. Places remembered as you find or recover grief in vicissitude efforts made externally the house internally stairs plunging reverberating echoing circles around us there in our nowhere. It alters my aspect so collapses only night falling into disrepair even now that this house and these interiors there in silence for only resolutions that he enters but eventually sees this as suicide In abstract manifestations the house and these yesterdays overborne undertook

The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (6/14)

[featherfish]

In hallways always variable echo my abandoned despair entropic malingering yesteryear sounds echoed loudly forever killed needlessly on what now torments only you only us gently even noiselessly these little echoes mutilate every nearly forgotten often remembered abandoned sound infinite noise goes lightly eternally penumbratically unrelentingly restlessly perpetually only silently evermore: stretched open the house about this you only understand more in ghosting halls that echo so coldly about perfected emptiness. In corridors always noiseless night opens this the eventual lingering lest you open underneath and lose light totally helplessly as the Interior hollowing and violent exquisitely swallows up full fourteen even rationality entombed desperation falls over reason moreover your calm underlaid rationality is only swallowed in the yggdrasil. The house evokes heightened obsession useless so even its simple exterior vast in lucidity, grasping effortless nuance that low essential meaningless eventual night, a night divides the house

The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (7/14)

[featherfish]

“Well, the man is obviously a raving lunatic,” I said, straightening.

“Not so, my dear Watson,” said Holmes calmly, keeping his attention on the awful missive.

“Holmes!” I cried. “This is too much. What possible sense can you make of this? It’s all a jumble. The man is disturbed.”

“On the contrary, I believe he may be one of the most clever men I have ever encountered,” said Holmes, holding the letter to the light. “Though, as he points out, we have never met.”

“Oh, come,” I said, I confess somewhat irritably. “And how on earth have you deduced all this