Watson's Last Case

by Ian Alfred Charnock

  London certainly seemed to lay claim to its own individual climate. It could also lay claim to being two cities, the west and the east being roughly divided at London Bridge. The west was prosperous and self-satisfied, the east was to remind me of Calcutta for its poverty and deprivation. Both were united, however, by being riddled with crime and moral decay.

  During the December of 1874 alone the records were to show that ninety-six bodies were found floating in the river with their throats either cut or bearing the unmistakable evidence of strangulation. A favourite crime was the abduction of heiresses for ransom and sometimes even white slavery in a place far removed from that of their birth. Many believed in the existence of secret societies from as far afield as Naples, Shanghai, Kiev and Chicago. Strange, demented fiends with springed heels were said to wait for nightfall and then prey on their hapless victims.

  London was a dangerous place to live for another reason. It was a centre of accidents. People were crushed by coaches, fell off high ladders or through rotten trap-doors, were boiled by molten metal, were caught up in coach wheels or horses’ reins and dragged to their deaths, succumbed to the impure atmosphere of industry and congestion, or were first mutilated by unguarded machinery and then died in agony through loss of blood or infection.

  In the poorer quarters there was often not the cheapest of whale-oil lamps to bring light to the darkness. What would have been revealed could only have horrified the onlooker. Peoples of all races and ages barefoot and in rags huddled together for warmth, for whom Christmas only meant a particularly cold and dark period of the year as they fought to survive. They had no star to guide them. For such as these crime was a way of life and a means to the end of survival. A code of honour grew up so that informing to authority as represented by the Metropolitan Police Force was regarded as the worst possible crime to this community within a community.

  Not that the forces of law and order could be much respected in 1874. Three years later the so-called Trial of the Detectives revealed the corruption that existed at the heart of the police force. Forensic science was as unknown as the word itself was foreign-sounding. To be sure of a conviction the culprit had to be caught ‘red-handed’. Once the deed was done the odds favoured the criminal.

  The richer areas might have been able to afford proper street lighting but crime flourished nonetheless. It was not so much ‘survival’ crime as ‘leisured’ crime. Gaming and vice were the two most common. There were over four thousand clubs and brothels in the City of London itself — an area then much smaller than it is now. Gaming was regarded as almost respectable but it ruined many a man and led to suicides, blackmail, ruin and even murder. Many a black sheep flocked to St James to take advantage of his fellow degenerates. The Haymarket dealt in a different produce. Despite the prohibitions on such a traffic, women and children could still be bought and sold almost openly. They would then become for a few short years the sexual playthings of a group of moneyed dissipates eager for new sensations before becoming the washed-up jetsam on the barren shingle of poverty. There were highly organized vice rings which supplied the needs of the wealthy and most girls from the poor districts willingly became a part of them in order ‘to put a bit by for later’ before their looks faded and their favours became less valued.

  As we have seen, Holmes was not interested in politics per se. He was not moved by what he saw to be a social reformer. Future readers looking back on London in this time will be shocked by the sights that I have outlined — if not them then certainly the smells — and they might be shocked by Holmes’s reaction to the former. Young, late-twentieth-century readers with a century of reform, liberalism and socialism behind them might wonder why their hero did not champion the cause of the poor with a missionary zeal. In a way, he did. He recognized that his talents fitted him to be a crime detector, although his definition of a crime was often at variance with the legal definition of the period, and so in good Victorian tradition he sought to use his talents to the maximum. He was a man of his time in that respect. If he appears slightly cold to us now, then that was how he was. The years should not obscure Sherlock Holmes’s sincere motives to combat crime whether committed by a duke or a destitute. He had recognized his talents and would have felt himself a criminal to have not used them. It was then as he was deep in thought that the gang of toughs attacked him.

  They had the triple advantages of surprise and numbers, and they were also completely familiar with their surroundings. As one pulled at Holmes’s coat in an effort to pin his arms to his side, another punched him while the third tried to trip him. In a swift baritsu move he slipped from his overcoat and rushed to a wall. Then with his back safe from attack, he took up his classic boxer’s stance.

  ‘Oh, wot a toff. Who learnt yew ’ow to do that with yer mits?’ guffawed one of his assailants spitting onto his hands before clenching his fists and advancing. He was by far the largest of the three and the obvious self-styled leader. Holmes knew what to do. A straight left removed his attacker’s only good tooth and a rapier-fast right cross into the surprised face finished the encounter. The side streets consumed the others.

  As he stepped out along Leather Lane nearing his rooms in Montague Street, Holmes heard the sound of a barrel organ playing a popular tune and a Cockney voice singing along to it. An Italian recently come from Naples was grinding the handle. He was gazing devotedly at the songstress. Beneath the caked make-up made more bizarre by the harsh lime lighting of the organ lamps redolent of a painting yet to be brushed by a crippled aristocrat in Montmartre, Holmes recognized a zest for life that spoke of resilience and optimism. It was then that he felt it to be his vocation to protect that spirit no matter where it was harboured. Little did he know that one of his first cases would start exactly where he was standing, with me at his elbow.

  Holmes was now resolved and it was that decisiveness that his brother recognized as he stepped back into their rooms. The undecided boy from East Anglia, late of Sussex, Montpellier and Oxford had become a man of resolution in London.

  Holmes returned to Oxford and again tendered his resignation, which was again refused. There was no Gallic shrug this time, merely a steely determination to advance his plan. He had started at Oxford in October 1873 having spent his eighteenth year with his mother in Montpellier. Thus he was slightly older than most of the others in his year and that coupled with his seriousness gave an impression of greater age which made the others keep their distance. At least that was what Victor Trevor told me. I have often wondered whether Holmes did this on purpose as we both found him a most charming companion — as did my younger sister several years later.

  Holmes would occasionally visit my family for dinner and he would usually end up the life and soul of the party. First my family would give him objects such as a hat, umbrella, dog-collar, or some such thing and ask him to explain to us what he could see in them of their history and their owners. Needless to say he quite dazzled everyone, including myself who was used to his ways by now. I wondered, briefly, if he was doing it to impress my sister, but he was not. Women just did not fit into his scheme of things. His mind had been made up on 23rd December 1874 as to the course in which his life was to run and he would no more be deflected by a well-turned ankle than by mortal danger to his person.

  Once I persuaded him to play the violin at one of these gatherings. It was a most moving piece that had us rapt in awe at its beauty and Holmes’s virtuosity. He then played a jaunty air and we were restored to our high spirits, my father and I singing as my sister played the piano.

  It was after dinner that evening that I prevailed upon Holmes to tell us the story of the Gloria Scott. During the story, which he recounted as factually as if he were reporting a scientific experiment, rather in contrast to Watson’s telling of the tale, he mentioned that he had spent seven weeks of his first long vacation carrying out a few experiments in organic chemistry. I questioned him on this, asking him whether it was a hobby considering that it was not among his su
bjects at that time. He said that it could not really be described as a hobby, more as a complement to his theological studies. In answer to our obviously bemused looks he said that just as an apple is popularly believed to have led Newton to formulate the laws of gravity and as a consequence strengthen his faith in the existence of God, so Holmes had hoped to find God in the complex relationships of cells and their components. A universal law of organic chemistry would be proof indeed of the existence of God, he felt. It was typical of him to so offhandedly refer to these potentially earth-shattering studies as ‘a few experiments.’

  Holmes was certainly a seeker after truth in all his activities. I cannot help thinking of the Great Hiatus of 1891–94 which included a two-year visit to Tibet with a stay of some days with the Head Lama in Llasa for good measure. Some have felt that Holmes was not quite the same man after his return, although 1895 was a year which Watson felt to be one of Holmes’s best.[7] (My personal choice as to Holmes’s vintage year is 1889.) Thus some have concluded that while in Tibet Holmes had studied Buddhism and found its teachings influential on his subsequent behaviour. In support of this these commentators cite the sharp decrease in the mention of alcohol, tobacco, and in particular cocaine. As only one living creature was killed by Holmes after 1894 (The Lion’s Mane), these critics regard their case as proved. I am afraid that I cannot agree with them. Whilst I agree that Holmes’s best cases were before 1891 in the sense of originality and ingenuity of solution, there is a good reason for it. Moriarty was still abroad up to his tricks. As Holmes was to say later[8] the death of Moriarty had robbed crime, and the newspaper reports of it, of endless possibilities — ‘with him in the field anything was possible.’ Thus does it not follow that Holmes lost some of his enthusiasm for crime detection when his intellectual rival fell from the lists? With regard to Buddhism, Holmes had studied it at university as a comparative to Christianity. Such was his depth of knowledge of the subject that Watson was even to comment[9] that he spoke on a quick succession of subjects — including the Buddhism of Ceylon — ‘as though he had made a special study of it.’ With regard to Holmes’s non-taking of life, have we forgotten his words in the Three Garidebs? When Watson was shot by ‘Killer’ Evans, Holmes assured Evans that ‘If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive.’ Said in the heat of the moment? Perhaps; I keep my opinion to myself. Finally I would mention Holmes’s addiction to cocaine. That he was addicted before the 1891–94 period is positively clear from the opening lines of The Sign of Four, and that there is no direct mention of cocaine in any of the cases after 1894 is equally true, but it does not follow that he was cured by a fresh study of Buddhism in Tibet during the Great Hiatus. Once again it is poor Watson not getting the credit he deserves in the partnership. It is clearly stated in the Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter that Watson had gradually weaned Holmes from ‘that drug mania which had threatened once to check his remarkable career.’ Watson goes on to concede that Holmes now no longer ‘craved this artificial stimulus under ordinary conditions’ but, underratedly knowledgeable physician that he was, he knew that ‘the fiend was not dead but sleeping.’ How true that is of the addict! Obviously Holmes had to have the will to overcome his addiction but without Watson’s guidance and assistance he would have found it a very uphill task indeed. As a conclusion to all this we must not forget the reference to ‘occasional indiscretions of his own’ which had contributed to his collapse in the Adventure of the Devil’s Foot. Are we to infer the worst and believe that the fiend had fitfully woken?

  However, I find myself digressing from my original thoughts on Holmes and the pursuit of truth. I do not know if his experiments led to enlightenment, to my knowledge he has never told anyone about his conclusions. Perhaps he is sharing them with his bees down in Sussex. What I do know is that his experiments gave him knowledge that was to prove very useful in his chosen career.

  As I sit back and reflect on those events so long ago I have to smile. My sister had a typical schoolgirl ‘crush’ for Holmes which did not manifest itself in the usual way of dewy eyes and mooning looks but made her more adult as she tried to talk to Holmes as a ‘grown-up’. Yet ‘from the mouths of babes’ etc. was certainly applicable in this case as my sister seemed to find out a great deal about Holmes’s early life from their fireside chats. She concluded that Holmes’s three greatest friends were Watson (obviously she must have spoken to me later about this as Holmes and Watson had not met then), Victor Trevor and myself. In all three it was a case of opposites attracting or at least complementing. In my case she said that Holmes had needed a friend when we had met in late 1878, not only to use as a sounding board for his theories after several years of intense research, but also because since Trevor’s departure to the Terai he had become lonely — Holmes was only human after all. Possibly he had even doubted himself during those long years of few cases and little income. I was a catalyst if you like.

  That’s as maybe; woman’s intuition, I suppose. I have my doubts, but as I say, my sister found out a great deal concerning Holmes’s early life so I give her the benefit of the doubt. I shall now set out her information but in paraphrase as I could not possibly remember all her words — they were far more than Trevor’s and spoken on several occasions many years apart. One other proviso must be that I do not know how accurate all this is. How much of it is impish humour by Holmes feeding a young female imagination and how much is ‘woman’s intuition’ I do not know. Nonetheless here it is for you to judge.

  Sherlock Holmes — The Early Years (by Miss Stamford)

  The Holmes family seat was in East Anglia. It was to Holme Hope that grandfather Mycroft Holmes returned with his French bride. They made an unusual couple. He was powerful and every inch of his six feet six inches the traditional country squire with his dogs, shooting, fishing and healthy appetite. She was much smaller with a dark fine-boned beauty to his ruddy outdoor hue, a quickness in contrast to his deliberation, and a love of art in many of its forms creating a counterpoint to his rustic preoccupations. They were a marriage of opposites. (So that’s where Holmes got his love of opposites I suppose, sister dear?) They had two children, both boys, Sherrinford and Sherlock. Sherrinford took after his father and was very much the country squire. Sherlock was more like the French mother. He married a local girl and they had two children, Mycroft and Sherlock. They all lived in the large house at Holme Hope.

  The arrangement was not ideal. There can never be two mistresses in one home. On top of that it looked as if Sherlock’s wife was more suited to Sherrinford, both of them being very much the country folk at heart. Sherlock senior on the other hand was very highly strung, not like a country squire at all. (In fact when Holmes talked about his family in The Greek Interpreter, he was careful to talk about his ‘ancestors’ being typical of their type, ‘who appear’ — is that significant? — ‘to have led the same life as is natural to their class.’ One does not usually refer to one’s father as one’s ‘ancestor.’ Neither was he actually the squire. Is he making a loophole for his father?) He loved music in particular and was very fond of cooking. Then of course there were the boys themselves. So different and yet so alike. Mycroft early retiring into his armchair with his mathematical problems, usually worked out in his head so that it looked as though he was doing nothing while he was engaging in strenuous mental activity. Sherlock the more active showing a keen interest in all around him but sharing also his mother’s interest in the Bible and its lessons.

  Unfortunately his precocity in that direction soon left his mother behind so that she was at once proud yet wary of her almost unnatural little boy.

  Thus, taken from Holmes’s mother’s point of view, Holme Hope was a great disappointment, frustration and mystery. There was the rivalry with the Grandmother Vernet — real or imaginary and the aloofness of old Holmes (who dies soon after anyway despite the family history of longevity). Then came the two brothers, Sherrinford and Sherlock. The one she should have married was like
old Mycroft and tended to be distant from her, the other that she did marry was more like the French woman who was her rival. Did he give his loyalty to his mother in preference to his wife? Finally came her two children. Both were becoming strangers to her with their uncanny gifts and their own private games of numbers and guessing what people were. Although she was unsure about the word ‘guessing’ because they were so often right — at least Mycroft certainly was. In an earlier age they would have been burnt as warlocks — and old superstitions died hard in the heart of the countryside. Had the French woman brought something unnatural with her from ‘over there’? Holmes’s mother was a perplexed woman.

  The last straw came when Sherlock, her baby, seemed to know more of the Bible than she who had solemnly studied it all her life with the slow tenacity of the country person, and seemed to leave her for his father to learn how to play the violin and prepare a dish that sounded as though it had rats in it — ‘a rat or two’, or some such name.

  It was time to fight back. She now used feminine wiles such as preparing everyone’s favourite food (when it had an English not French origin). When that failed to have the desired effect, she would change and become sharp and bitter, even to Sherrinford.

  Eventually the house fragmented. Grandmother Vernet kept to herself and painted, or sang, or drew. Sometimes she would even go to visit her relatives in France. When she came back she would bring exotic presents for everyone which made Holmes’s mother even more jealous of her. (Mycroft would invariably tell her where these gifts had come from, whereas young Sherlock was liable to go into a reverie at the contemplation of such foreign gifts.) Sherrinford tended to spend most of his time shooting or fishing. He was out of the house more than he was in it. Was he trying to avoid his sister-in-law? Sherlock, senior, was drinking too much and becoming morose. He did not seem mindful of the bad example he was setting. The boys became withdrawn and seemed to be observing the panorama that was opening up before them. They tried to pacify their mother and indeed it often worked but sometimes she would become resentful of their attentions and say that it was a fine state of things when children treated their mother as though she were the child.