indeedsir_backup | Healthy Justice – or – The Best Medicine (Reply)

Proof that Musey is sick. Very very sick. Also evil. Plus twisted enough to give a Möbius strip body-image problems.

So - with pleas for your forgiveness - a bit of Jooster. Bertie W. goes before the bench. The charge - sodomy. Oh dear oh dear - how will he get out of this?

Title: Healthy Justice – or – The Best Medicine

Pairing: J/W – Was there any doubt?

Summary: Bertram W. faces charges of sodomy.

Rating: G

Words: 1000

Disclaimer: If I did own these, I’d be British – and much to dead to care what they boys got up to. But I’m not PGW, so I don’t, and I do. Rotten to be me, what?

“Oh dear me. Sodomy, is it?” The judge frowned as he made out the crabbed text, blue eyes watering behind think glasses. “And such blatant evidence. I’m saddened that Lady Agatha had to endure such a shock to her system.” He nodded towards the spectator benches where the elderly woman sat. She was alone, the rest of the extended Wooster clan having separated themselves by several empty seats. “Still – not much chance you are pleading not guilty, are you, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster?”

A second man, just as berobed and almost as elderly, stepped forward. “As Mr. Wooster’s council, we could like to know what action the court would offer in exchange for a plea. Reminding the court, with respect, of my client’s heretofore untainted reputation and innumerable social contributions. Surely your honor can understand why a gentleman such as Mr. Wooster does not belong in prison for a matter of… shall we say…personal peccadillo.”

“This is a severe charge, sir, not a prank with a policeman’s helmet.” The judge’s hand trembled as fumbled for his pen. “But as you clearly are aware, the higher court in these enlightened days prefer to send that class of deviant to treatment rather than simply to jail.”

“Waste of budget if you ask me,” the judge muttered to his equally wizened clerk. “Back in my youth we had the stocks, and those didn’t cost the rate-payers anything. Public benefit from the entertainment, more like.”

“If it please the court?” The prosecuting council stepped up. “His Majesty’s prosecution is willing to ask for a term of involuntary medical confinement – let us say six months – in exchange for releasing the criminal sentence.”

“Can’t say I agree, but I’m here to follow the law, not make it.” The judge leaned over the podium. “Mr. Wooster! Can you give any reason why you should not be committed for your perversions?"

"Yes, your honor,” Bertram W. Wooster answered promptly. “I'm already in treatment.”

“If this is some ploy by the defense?” The judge’s frown turned deeper. “I won’t put up with these new legal trickeries in my courtroom.”

“No, your honor. All my own idea.” BW glanced back at the gallery. “Hooked up with a top-flight brain doctor. Have been for ten years and more."

"Where? And if so why were you in your apartment doing… what you did… with... him."

"Out-patient, your honor. With Dr. Sir Roderick Glossop over there. In fact, that was my treatment Jeeves was administering when the coppers burst in."

"You can't expect the court to believe that."

"Excuse me, your honor” A distinguished-looking gentlemen stood in the second row. He was dressed in a flawlessly tailored suit of severe black, holding the gold-headed cane of a senior consultant. To either side sat younger attendants, their white coats marking them as junior member of the same profession. “If it may please the court? That is indeed the Glossop method. I encourage my patients to act out so that they can see how unsatisfying their misdeeds actually are."

The prosecution council spun. "You expect us to believe that works?"

"I have every faith in Dr. Glossop's treatment, your honor.” Bertram Wooster’s blue eyes went wide, radiating sincerity. “I mean, it may not have entirely cured me, but in the last few years I have noticed a tapering off."

"Really, sir?" The dark suited man who stood as Wooster’s co-defendant sounded uncertain- even unhappy – at that statement.

"Quite so, Jeeves. Why there was that one night just last week when we didn't do anything."

Dr. Glossop drew closer, patting Bertram on his shoulder. "I'm so glad for you, lad. Very healthy sign, that." Smiling brightly, he turned again to the judge. "So as your honor can see, with a continuation of my method the patient should be completely free of unnatural impulses by…” The physician paused, unexpectedly uncertain. “Oh, dear, I was never good at math."

“Not my field either. Clerk?”

“Sorry, your honor”, the clerk mumbled, “not one for the numbers either. I could ask the bailiff, if you wish?

"If I may, sir?” Reginald Jeeves addressed the court for the first time. “At the ratio of reduction being one-seventh per decade? Mr. Wooster should be relieved of all erotomanic desires no later than the year 1995."

"That seems rather long for the court to wait on your medical judgment, Dr. Glossop." The prosecution attorney spoke like a man finishing a three-course lunch of lemons.

"Well, he won't get better by standing around here.” Sir Roderick waved the younger man aside dismissively. “At least I have some proof that my treatment works."

“Plus,” the defense inserted, “Sir Roderick’s clinic is not a charge against the NHS.”

“Well, that’s that then.” For the first time, the judge’s lips turned slightly to the upward. “Seems for once the public exchequer can be spared the strain of do-gooder ways.” He turned his attention to the defense council. “So long as Mr. Wooster promises to continue treatment.”

Sir Roderick bowed gravely. “I shall double his sessions, your honor.”

"Very well.” With a nod to the bailiff, the judge brought down his gavel. “Charges dismissed. You may release the defendants.”

"Right ho, Jeeves.” Taking his man’s hand, Bertram Wooster stepped lightly down from the box. “Best get back to therapy then."

“You got off easy this time, you young reprobate. Let this be a warning.” The judge indicated that his clerk should make a note in the court ledger. “I'd better not see you charged again after...” He squinted at Sir Roderick. “What was the date when you said he'd be cured?"

THE END? You know it’s NEVER going to END