The Adventures of Holds and Wayson

Blast Your Hyde

"Physician, heal thyself!" An old saying that I, for one, firmly believed in. My roommate and partner in the business of crime consultation, Mister Samuel Holds, did not agree with my philosophy.

"Wayson, you are going to see a doctor!"

"But, I am a doctor," I protested. "I know what is wrong with me and I will heal in time."

"Nonsense," Holds persisted. "You are going to see one and I know just the man we are going to see."

Doctor Henry Jekyll's office was located not too far from our apartment. Though he wasn't the sort of physician I was. 

Doctor Jekyll was a chemist, much like Holds himself, which is probably why the two men knew each other.  Jekyll was a middle-aged man with grey both above his face and below it. His slicked-back silver hair and pointed beard gave him the appearance of a distinguished gentleman. Both his lengthy height and his wide weight gave me the impression he was a man of the world and the way he greeted Holds and I gave me the impression he was friendly to everyone he met.

"My dear, Holds," he said as he extended his arms past his body, "what brings you here today to see me."

Holds introduced me to the good doctor before he proceeded to tell him of my condition. Once he had finished, Jekyll took a sample of the green drizzle coming out of my nose. He put it under a microscope and examining it, came to a conclusion.

"My friend," he said as if he were about to give me the greatest news in the world, "you have the flu."

It wasn't the greatest news in the world and I knew it.

"I have a remedy for you," he stated with pride before he went over towards a shelf full of bottles.

"Is it rest and relaxation?" I asked. Because that was the remedy I had prescribed to myself.

"That and more," he said before grabbing one of the glass containers and putting it in my hands.

I swirled the green liquid that was in the container around for a couple of seconds as one would do with a glass of wine, but unfortunately, this chemical compound looked and smelled nothing like sherry.

"This looks like something Madame Ruth would sell," I told him. 

The good doctor shot me a look of confusion.

I gave him a simple explanation of what I was referring to. "You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth." 

He still wasn't getting it.

I continued to say, "She's got a pad down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine, selling little bottles of Love Potion Number Nine."

When he got the reference, he smiled and gave me instructions that as soon as I was to get home, I was to hold my nose, close my eyes, and take a drink.

As soon as we returned to 221B Barker Street, I did just as the good doctor instructed. Believe it or not, within seconds, I felt a thousand times better.

"There," Holds said before patting me on the back, "you see, I told you he would give you the antidote you needed."

It was getting late. Holds decided he was going to turn in early. I, on the other hand, decided I was going to stay up late, seeing as how the formula Doctor Jekyll gave me had somehow given me a blast of energy.

I took a look in the mirror and I was convinced that the formula was somehow making me look younger. As I continued to watch myself in the mirror, I felt like I was shrinking. Had Doctor Jekyll somehow given me water from The Fountain of Youth?

The formula had another side effect. I was starting to form hair on my palms.

I had to do something. I decided I was going to go out and find Doctor Jekyll and ask him if these side effects were normal.

On my way out to see him, I became distracted. I was going in-and-out of bars, fraternizing with women, and getting into fights with men. I didn't know what I was doing. I seemed to be out of control. I decided to give up my search for the man who had given me the chemical compound and return to Barker Street at once.

Upon my return, I crashed into bed and forced myself to sleep, but I swear within what seemed like only an hour or two, Holds threw open the door to my room and screamed. "Wayson, we have a new case! There is a psychopath on the loose and we need to catch him! The papers are calling him Mister Hyde!"

I felt worse than I did the day before. Holds could see it as well. He told me to stay in bed and to the medicine Doctor Jekyll had given me while he went looking for Mister Hyde. Holds slammed (literally slammed) the door to my room shut causing my ears to ring.

I went back to sleep and I didn't wake up until well after sunset.

I was miserable but I was hungry. Holds was already asleep. I didn't want to cook something, for fear that my roommate would smell it, wake up, and eat whatever dish I had prepared for myself, so I decided to take the medicine was prescribed and go out and eat.

The liquid created in me the same results I had experienced the day before. Only this time, instead of drinking, I craved food.

I went to a pub and ate everything they had on the menu. I continued to eat until they refused to feed me no more until I paid the bill. I lashed out at the owner and he called the police. After making the call, he continued to threaten me. When I retaliated, he said to me, "Blast your hyde."

"HYDE!" The police called out.

Both men and women screamed in terror as the authorities made an attempt to tackle me, but I was too fast for them. When one of the officers came a little too close to me, I picked him up and threw him across the pub. Doctor Jekyll's antidote not only gave me more energy and a youthful appearance, but it made me stronger and faster as well, all of which allowed me to escape the pub, lose the police, and return to Barker Street with ease.

The next morning, Holds once again entered into my room the same way he had done the previous day. "Wayson!" He screamed (literally, he screamed), "Hyde has struck again! I am going out to find him! Are you coming?"

Noticing I was still miserable, he decided to leave me in the quiet of my room, but not before he slammed the door shut.

Before I had returned to the world of slumberland, there was a soft knock coming from the other side of our front door. I knew it couldn't have been Holds (for obvious reasons), so I decided to investigate.

I opened the door to see to my surprise Doctor Jekyll before my very eyes.

"My dear fellow," he said in that jolly voice of his. "Forgive me but I gave you the wrong prescription." He held in his hand a pink liquid and asked me if I could go and fetch him the green one he had previously given me. 

Ignoring all the questions and concerns I was going to ask him, I went and got the liquid he had wanted back.

Once it was in his hands, he let out a cry of joy before telling me. "Now, you stay in bed Doctor Wayson. Not just because you need to get better, but also because there is a maniac on the loose."

"Believe me Doctor Jekyll," I said with a sinister smile on my face, "the prescription you gave me made me feel more like a maniac in the past the two days than I ever have been in my entire life."