by David Marcum
“‘Bah!’ scowled Cooper. ‘Why should I believe you? It would be just like you, Davis, to offer your blessing and then sneak behind my back. You’ve never liked me, which is why I have never been offered the position of Department Chair.’
“‘Ridiculous,’ scoffed Davis. ‘I don’t care a bit if the ring is missing. You still have my blessing to marry my daughter. And as for department head, you have time on your side, my friend. Patience is all you need. Now, wait... who’s there?’
“I had burst out into another coughing fit while standing outside the office. When the door flung wide, I had recomposed myself.
“‘Why, Master Holmes? What are you doing here?’ the headmaster asked, and then his eyes became slits and his teeth clenched. ‘Were you spying on us?’
“I explained to the headmaster that I was going to the privy because I was feeling ill. I was overtaken by a coughing fit and leaned against the wall. When pressed if I heard any of their conversation, I looked puzzled and asked, ‘What conversation?’
“The headmaster was satisfied with my answer and Cooper offered to escort me to ensure that I returned to class safely. Afterwards, I returned with Cooper, but on the way to class, he stopped me and brought me into his office.
“‘I’m no fool, Master Holmes, and neither are you,’ he stated gruffly.
“‘What do you mean, sir?’ I asked innocently.
“‘Don’t play games with me, boy. You’re the smartest of the lot and a fine actor. If I didn’t know you better, I’d have been just as fooled as that imbecile, Davis. But the man is right, as I’m sure you noted. He did not take the ring from my coat pocket.’
“‘What ring, sir?’
“‘Come now, Master Holmes, surely you can puzzle it out.’
“I nodded as the answer was obvious. ‘It is the engagement ring you wish to use to propose to Miss Davis, sir. You kept it in the right breast pocket of your coat. Am I right, sir?’
“‘How did you know that?’ questioned Cooper, who suddenly looked at me with a suspicious eye.
“‘Simple, sir. All through class this morning, you kept inserting your hand into your right breast pocket and fidgeting with an object. It is clear to me that it was an item of great importance, as you kept checking to ensure it was still there.’
“Cooper let out a joyful laugh. ‘Indeed you are correct, my dear Master Holmes, and this morning I showed the ring to Headmaster Davis and asked his blessing to propose to his daughter, which he heartily granted. During your class, I kept checking up on the ring, mulling over my word choice for when I proposed to the fair Miss Davis. But after your class, I noted that the ring had gone missing.’
“‘And you believe it was a student who took your ring, sir.’
“‘Yes, Master Holmes, and I believe you are the man who can get me my ring back.’
“‘Me, sir?’ I questioned, truly surprised at the turn in this conversation.
“‘Yes, Master Holmes. You are the cleverest man in this school, and that includes both teachers and pupils, and I don’t mind saying so. I need your help, boy. Can you return the ring to my possession by the end of the school day?’
“‘How would I do that, sir?’
“‘Why, Master Holmes, I have given you a challenge, a fitting challenge for your intellect. I would betray you if I gave you any ideas about how to solve this mystery.’
“‘May I ask a few questions, sir?’
“‘Be my guest, Master Holmes.’
“‘When was the last time you remember having the ring in your possession?’
“‘Well, let’s see, it was before the end of class. Then, after you were dismissed, I spoke to Master Muggins about his efforts, then I noticed the ring was missing. Why, you don’t suppose...?’
“‘I don’t suppose anything, sir,’ I answered, ‘but I do believe you will have the ring in your possession by the end of the day.’
“And with that, Watson, I left Cooper’s office, excited for this opportunity to prove myself, for it was a true opportunity. For the first time since I entered that school, I felt that an instructor took a wholehearted interest in me, saw me as an intellectual equal, superior even, and was challenging me. It was my duty to rise to the occasion.”
I was taken aback by the turns in Holmes’s narrative. How could a grown man turn to a mere child, even one of Holmes’s intellect, to solve such a personal matter? My friend, who had paused to take a few puffs from his pipe, read the expression upon my face and answered my unstated question.
“Watson, I can see that you disapprove of Cooper asking a pupil to solve his personal dilemma. The man should not be faulted; he should be recognized. I still find it one of his more positive attributes that he was able to note my intellectual prowess and not let age or position in life interfere with the most logical person to solve the case of his missing ring.”
“And you solved the case, Holmes?” I inquired.
“Of course, Watson. Today, I would dismiss such a case as not being intellectually stimulating; however, at the age of twelve - yes Watson, twelve, my birthday was that January - I found the case to be somewhat of a thrill.”
“A thrill, Holmes! Really!” I stated bluntly, for it was obvious to me that Willie Muggins was at fault. The lad had sought revenge for his embarrassment by Cooper in his classroom.
Holmes nodded silently. “A case, even one as simple as this, held my attention. I knew who was at fault, yet I still had the problem of actually retrieving the ring. Where would the ring be hidden? The answer, of course, was obvious. The best hiding spot for the ring would be in a coat pocket, such as it was the best place for Cooper to conceal the ring. Fortunately, it was a particularly warm afternoon, and when we were released for time in the courtyard, all of us removed our coats and stored them on the coat rack in the hallway before disappearing outside and enjoying the balmy spring day.
“With all the first years away from the coats which were hanging in our designated rack inside, I knew I had the perfect opportunity to retrieve the ring.
“I sought the aid of my dear friend Percy in executing my plan for the ring’s retrieval. Percy listened intently to my story, and when I finished explaining, he stiffened up and said, ‘I am at your service, Sherlock.’
“The plan was simple. Mr. Henderson, the burly History teacher, was outside, keeping an eye on the students, making sure that no fights broke out in the yard, especially after the headmaster’s thrashing of Willie and his threat to the students. As Percy and I were walking by the man, I started another of my coughing fits and actually fell on the ground in front of the instructor. After a few harsh hacks, Percy helped me to my feet, and I asked if Percy could take me inside to get a glass of water. The teacher agreed to my request.
“Once inside the school, I went to the coat rack, found Willie’s jacket, and when I returned to the schoolyard, I had Cooper’s ring safely in my possession.”
“Well done, Holmes,” I commended my friend. “Even at such a young age, you were extraordinary at puzzling out a dilemma.”
But at this congratulations, my friend’s lips turned into a deep slit of a frown and his skin took on a grey pallor. “I puzzled out this simple problem, but I still ended up making what I fear was one of the gravest errors of my life.”
“I don’t understand, Holmes,” I said, completely perplexed. He kept referring to the case as a failure, and yet it was a rather straightforward success. In fact, I found the case so routine as to be too dull to share with my readers.
Holmes leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled and eyes stared off to the memory of his youth. He spoke softly with a touch of melancholia in his voice which I had only heard on a rare occasion. “At the end of the day, I reported to Cooper’s office. I could see the greedy anticipation in his eyes as he sat in his chair fidgeting, his fingers
tapping each other in such a way as to appear that they were fighting amongst themselves. When his emerald eyes fell on me, I gave him a boastful smile, and he knew I had completed my mission.
“‘You’ve done it Holmes! You have the ring!’ exploded the ruddy-faced man.
“I shrugged my shoulders and held out my left fist, palm up. I uncurled my fingers and there, resting in the center of my hand was Cooper’s ring.
“As quick as a hawk pouncing on a mouse, the man snatched the ring from me and held it up towards the lamplight, inspecting it to make sure it was not damaged.
“‘Good show, lad!’ he said through jolly chuckles. ‘Good show. You were able to get it away from Muggins. I’d love to see the look on that boy’s face when he realizes he doesn’t have the ring anymore. I will get to see his expression when he sees my dear Miss Davis with the ring upon her finger. It will be perfect. But tell me something, Master Holmes. In the afternoon, just an hour ago, I came up with an excuse and had Master Muggins called to my office. I had him turn out his pockets, and the boy had nothing but a dull pencil. I thought he would know why I sent for him, but the lad was a fine actor, pretended he knew nothing about any missing ring.’
“‘That’s because,’ I bragged, ‘‘twas not Muggins who took your ring, sir. You had it all wrong, sir.’
“Cooper’s face plummeted at this news. His eyes bulged, and he looked as though I had struck him across the cheek. ‘Not Muggins,’ he stammered. Then, he burst out into one of his hearty laughs. ‘You are one of a kind, Master Holmes. One of a kind. So, indulge me, my boy. Who, pray tell, took the ring from my pocket?’
“‘The answer is quite simple, sir. ‘Twas Percival Stevenson who snatched your ring.’
“Percival!” I admit, just as Mr. Cooper must have done, I sputtered at this declaration. I thought Holmes would chastise me for being surprised that his childhood friend was a common thief. But he did not comment nor even acknowledge my reaction. He kept telling his tale in that same, somber tone of voice.
“I explained everything to Cooper, Watson. I told of how I saw Percy palm the ring from Cooper’s pocket when he was distracted at the end of class and chastising Muggins. I said how I had told Percy when we were in the schoolyard that we could get revenge on Muggins by sneaking inside and stealing several sovereigns I said he had in his coat pocket. Of course, that was a complete ruse. When I had my fake coughing fit on the schoolyard and Percy helped me inside, I was able to snatch the ring from his pants pocket where he kept it, and replaced it with a stone I discovered of about the same size and shape. When we went to the coat rack, I used my own money which I had in my pocket, and I showed it to Percy after we returned outdoors. He assumed that I had stolen the money from Muggins when I had it in my possession all the time.”
“Astonishing Holmes,” I said, impressed with his youthful skills. Then, I inquired, “But I do not understand why your friend would take the ring? Had his family fallen on hard times? Did he have a vendetta against Cooper, or was it just a bit of a lark?”
Holmes lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Your questions are almost identical to those asked by Cooper, and I was such a braggart, so proud of myself, that I told Cooper everything without thinking of the consequences.
“‘It all has to do with Miss Davis, sir. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yourself,’ I stated to Mr. Cooper.
“Here Cooper eyed me most suspiciously. ‘Seen... what...?’ he inquired with a drawn out drawl, as if he was not sure if the answer should be obvious, if he wanted to hear it, or if he should even trust me.
“‘As you like to say, sir, the answer is rather elementary. I’ve noticed when Miss Davis is with Master Stevenson how much alike their visages are. I’ve also noted that both walk with a slightly odd gait, one where the right foot turns out and the toes curl at each step. With the interest which Miss Davis shows towards Master Stevenson and their physical similarities, I quickly deduced that Miss Davis-’
“‘Is Master Stevenson’s mother,’ concluded Mr. Cooper. His face had turned sickly and his lower lip quivered at this information.
“‘That’s right, sir. I believe Percy stole your ring so that you would not be able to marry his mother. I do believe he likes you. He’s just being protective of his mum.’
“The man composed himself enough to thank me for this news, and he sent me on my way. Fool that I was.”
“Why, Holmes, you are being far too harsh towards yourself. I believe you did Mr. Cooper a good turn,” I said reassuringly.
“A good turn,” Holmes spat. “And what do you think happened after I told Cooper all that I had learned?”
“Why, of course the gentleman did not marry Miss Davis,” I stated matter-of-factly. “I assume that the child was illegitimate, since Miss Davis was never presented as a widow, and therefore, that Miss Davis was not a suitable choice for Mr. Cooper. Also, I hope the boy was harshly punished for his crime.”
“Not a suitable choice,” Holmes said sadly with a slow shake of his head. “You hope the boy was harshly punished! Oh Watson, you are a traditionalist to the point where you don’t see the harm it can do.”
“Really, Holmes. I don’t see-”
“No, you don’t,” Holmes snapped, and I could tell that I had raised the ire of my dear friend. “Rest assured that young Percy did get punished, but it is my belief it was unwarranted. Indeed, the guilt that I feel - “ Holmes caught himself. He was shaking slightly, feeling a mix of sadness and rage. Finally, he took a swig of brandy, let out a long sigh, and recomposed, continued in his soft, melancholy tone of voice. “Had I just returned the ring to Cooper and not revealed where I had gotten it, he would have been none the wiser, would have married Miss Davis, and I’m sure, in good time, would have learned the truth, and instead of turning away, he would have adopted Master Stevenson, whom he would have grown to love. Percival would have found himself in a joyful family situation.
“Instead, Mr. Cooper did not only reject Miss Davis. He also, after sending me away that afternoon, went straight to the headmaster and threatened to expose the secret of his illegitimate grandson unless he made Cooper the department chair.”
“My goodness, Holmes. Did he really?”
“He was furious, Watson. He thought the headmaster was trying to trick him into marrying Miss Davis. Percival never returned to school. I never saw my friend again.
“You see, Watson, one of the tricks of being a true detective is that one must solve a case, but one must know how much information is proper to reveal in doing so. I was right to take the case, but I was wrong to identify the guilty party. It is why, as you’ve noted, sometimes my tactics are quite different than those of Scotland Yard. I wish I could wind the clock back, knowing what I know now and put that knowledge into the young version of myself. I solved the case, Watson. I suppose it was my first true case, yet in the end, I failed my friend, and that is unforgivable.”
“You were just a boy,” I started.
Holmes dismissed me with a wave of his lanky arm. He did not want to hear my excuses for his conduct.
“Now, Watson, the hour is getting late, and you should return to your home, to your wife. If you’ll excuse me, there is a ‘Concerto in D Major’ which I would like to practice. It is a rather fitting piece on this somber afternoon.”
As I limped down the steps that late afternoon, I heard the piercing wail of the detective’s violin while he began to play his lament for his childhood friend. Those haunting notes stayed with me all through my cab drive home and into my dinner with my wife, Mary. I found myself feeling a sense of guilt and despair, for while my friend mentioned his failure to young Percival, I realized that in many ways I had failed Holmes as well. In my two published recounts of his adventures, I had presented the man as a cold, calculating machine. Nothing could be further from the truth. Holmes had a strong sense of justice
and fairness. He preferred to help the downtrodden than the elite, and he would let a crook go free if he knew the criminal would right his wrongs and never commit a crime again. It was better to do that than send a man to jail where he would harden and seek a life of lawlessness. That appreciation for the human condition was lacking in my characterization of Holmes, and this was a wrong that I had to right.
I had been toying with an idea of focusing on shorter narratives and writing a series about the greatest adventures which I had shared with my friend. But where would I start? There were so many tales to choose from. Perhaps I would start with a case where Holmes was not triumphant. Perhaps a narrative where Holmes shows disdain towards the aristocracy, maybe even royalty, displaying a sense of respect towards someone like a child, or a woman. That was it! A woman! The Woman! I thought of the portrait on Holmes’s mantel, put pen to paper, and began to write.
The Adventure of the Turkish Cipher
by Deanna Baran
Although fastidious in manners, speech, and dress, my friend Sherlock Holmes was by no means an easy companion with whom to share lodging. Even in the early days of our association, our room was cluttered with odd relics and mementos from adventures long past. I might have better appreciated the museum to his still-young career if its curator had troubled to affix explanatory labels to his curiosities, but as it was, the collection was as mute and mysterious as ever so many stuffed crocodiles. It was pointless to ask him to play docent, for during periods of intense activity, it was unthinkable to attempt to distract him, and during his periods of severe lethargy, little could penetrate the morose fog. On one occasion, when he was feeling conversational, a discussion about the antecedents of a cobbler’s workbox led to the unpacking of a dozen other objects from within; a period of three months lapsed before they found their way back inside. And so I found it prudent to disregard the wooden croatlus, the tidy pair of hawk’s bells, and the cheese ladle which made a sudden appearance on the seat of my arm chair, and allowed the presence of a taxidermic guinea-pig upon the breakfast table to pass without comment.