Saved Archived Meta: Sherloki1854 (pt.3)
Dec. 6th, 2010 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
221bcrowHow Watson Saved Holmes
That Sherlock Holmes takes drugs or has taken them is the one fact all people who have ever heard of him seem to know.
But when and why exactly does he depend on drugs, and how does he win against his addiction?
Might have something to do with a certain doctor. :)
(NB: Nothing of this is actually new. I simply wanted to see what there is on drugs in the canon and try to sort it.)
A Study in Scarlet (1881), chapter 2
[F]or days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morning to night. On these occasions I have noticed such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes, that I might have suspected him of being addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperance and cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.
In the beginning, just after having met Watson, Holmes does not have a very active practice yet. In the first week of living with Watson, he does not even leave the house or have a single client. The second week brings clients, but it can still safely be said that Holmes does not have enough material to go on to keep his mind challenged. From the description Watson gives it should be logical that anyone with eyes would notice that Holmes is prone to taking drugs, but Watson does his best not to notice. He is a doctor. He really should notice. But something in him refuses to acknowledge a “negative” trait in Holmes. Well, sweet.
The Five Orange Pips (November 1887) (November 1891)
“Yes,” I answered, laughing. “It was a singular document. Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis.”
I will not emphasise the fact that six years after the event both Holmes and Watson still remember that trivial conversation absolutely perfectly. However, the “cocaine and tobacco” bit is not in the list Watson will later publish. This can mean two things: either he realised that Holmes was an addict early on and just did not want to stress it to the public in his published version of A Study in Scarlet, or he is adding them here to “subtly” remind Holmes of the fact that he ought not to “poison” himself even though the cases are not exactly flocking in at the moment, as no account has been published yet and therefore Holmes is not as famous as he has to be to get more work. Both possibilities would explain why a doctor supposedly did not notice that his flatmate was on drugs. Which is unbelievably unlikely. Anyway, what Watson says is more serious than he would like to make it appear to the reader. But Watson is not really concerned yet, I think. Or the “joke” would forbid itself.
The Yellow Face (early spring 1888) (1893)
Save for the occasional use of cocaine, he had no vices, and he only turned to the drug as a protest against the monotony of existence when cases were scanty and the papers uninteresting.
A few months later, he is still convinced that Holmes only needs his stimulant when there is no interesting case, and I bet that the last months were pretty busy for them as A Study in Scarlet was first published in November 1887, which would have sent more clients to Holmes’s doorstep, so Watson probably thinks the “dark days” are over and is able to refer to his friend’s drug habit only in passing.
The Sign of Four (late autumn 1888) (1890), chapter 1
Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece, and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle and rolled back his left shirtcuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist, all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally, he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined armchair with a long sigh of satisfaction.
Three times a day for many months I had witnessed this performance, but custom had not reconciled my mind to it. On the contrary, from day to day I had become more irritable at the sight, and my conscience swelled nightly within me at the thought that I had lacked the courage to protest. Again and again I had registered a vow that I should deliver my soul upon the subject; but there was that in the cool, nonchalant air of my companion which made him the last man with whom one would care to take anything approaching to a liberty. His great powers, his masterly manner, and the experience which I had had of his many extraordinary qualities, all made me diffident and backward in crossing him.
Yet upon that afternoon, whether it was the Beaune which I had taken with my lunch or the additional exasperation produced by the extreme deliberation of his manner, I suddenly felt that I could hold out no longer.
“Which is it to-day,” I asked, “morphine or cocaine?”
He raised his eyes languidly from the old black-letter volume which he had opened.
“It is cocaine,” he said, “a seven-per-cent solution. Would you care to try it?”
“No, indeed,” I answered brusquely. “My constitution has not got over the Afghan campaign yet. I cannot afford to throw any extra strain upon it.”
He smiled at my vehemence. “Perhaps you are right, Watson,” he said. “I suppose that its influence is physically a bad one. I find it, however, so transcendently stimulating and clarifying to the mind that its secondary action is a matter of small moment.”
“But consider!” I said earnestly. “Count the cost! Your brain may, as you say, be roused and excited, but it is a pathological and morbid process which involves increased tissue-change and may at least leave a permanent weakness. You know, too, what a black reaction comes upon you. Surely the game is hardly worth the candle. Why should you, for a mere passing pleasure, risk the loss of those great powers with which you have been endowed? Remember that I speak not only as one comrade to another but as a medical man to one for whose constitution he is to some extent answerable.”
It seems that his practice has not taken off yet, or that it has lapsed after the “hype” after the publication of the first account. Watson’s attitude has changed completely: far from seeing Holmes’s use of drugs as an occasional occurrence only and taking it quite lightly, as he did before, he is now seriously concerned and unwilling that this should go on even one more day. Watson’s vehemence is anachronistic: after all, it was perfectly legal to take drugs, and it is not like Holmes was spending all his time in disreputable opium dens. Watson is concerned for Holmes’s physical and mental health here, as he has finally understood that Holmes is an addict (“three times a day for as many months”, not only sometimes), and not his reputation, which is the only possible explanation for the inclusion of this long scene about the drugs. Holmes, being Holmes, repeats his usual defence, but Watson does not believe it any more, and after the argument he is frustrated and angry at Holmes. It is not a coincidence, in my mind, that he will literally throw himself at the first client after this scene: enter his “love at first sight”, Mary Morstan. Or did Watson make up this “sweet” character as a antipole to the “cruel” Holmes he sees at the moment?
The Sign of Four (1887), chapter 12
“The division seems rather unfair,” I remarked. “You have done all the work in this business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for you?”
“For me,” said Sherlock Holmes, “there still remains the cocaine-bottle.” And he stretched his long white hand up for it.
Ok, Watson has decided to leave Holmes (either he is really going to marry, or he needs some space, you choose), and it is quite sad to see that Holmes’s only way of escape are narcotics to numb the pain (reminds anyone of HLV?). A pity that the narrative stops here…
A Scandal in Bohemia (March 1889) (1891)
I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention; while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker-street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature.
[…]
He had risen out of his drug-created dreams
First of all, as it has been pointed out before, Watson sounds far too happy to actually be it. It is a known fact that Watson likes to convince himself of it, and what does “my own complete happiness” sound like, exactly? It is just slightly unnatural, and not Watson’s genuine style. Anyway, Watson is still using the antipoles of “my sweet wife” and “Holmes on drugs”. It is also rather interesting to note that although Watson has not seen him since the marriage (let us just take his word for that, and not go into other theories now), he yet knows exactly what state Holmes is likely to be in, i.e. in a “drug-created dream”. Apart from the fact that Watson has been pondering over Holmes’s state of mind while supposedly living a happy life at his new home with his newlywed wife, this also tells us that Holmes really did turn to drugs as soon as Watson left.
The Man With the Twisted Lip (June 1889) (1891)
“I suppose, Watson,” said he, “that you imagine that I have added opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views.”
The situation appears to have changed dramatically over the past few months. Not only has Mary Morstan pretty much disappeared (Watson essentially flees from her in this story in order to sleep in a “double-bedded [single] room” with Holmes), but Holmes’s practice is apparently going well. He does not need the drug at the moment, and to reassure his Watson, Holmes starts joking about it in addition to implying that he greatly values Watson’s skill/knowledge as a doctor. Which can only signify that they have managed to get over the fight of The Sign of Four.
NB: we will not hear anything about drugs any more until after Holmes’s return. This story was published in late 1891, several months after Holmes’s “death”. I do not know what to make of this yet.
The Missing Three-Quarter (1896)
Things had indeed been very slow with us, and I had learned to dread such periods of inaction, for I knew by experience that my companion’s brain was so abnormally active that it was dangerous to leave it without material upon which to work. For years I had gradually weaned him from that drug mania which had threatened once to check his remarkable career. Now I knew that under ordinary conditions he no longer craved for this artificial stimulus, but I was well aware that the fiend was not dead, but sleeping; and I have known that the sleep was a light one and the waking near when in periods of idleness I have seen the drawn look upon Holmes’s ascetic face, and the brooding of his deep-set and inscrutable eyes. Therefore I blessed this Mr. Overton, whoever he might be, since he had come with his enigmatic message to break that dangerous calm which brought more peril to my friend than all the storms of his tempestuous life.
As said above, this story is set in 1896. It was published after Holmes’s retirement to Sussex, maybe including this passage as an admonition to remind him of the fact that Watson strongly opposes this habit (and that it would the latter’s heart if Holmes started taking them again, in my opinion). But what is really interesting in this only direct reference to Holmes’s drug habit after his return is that Watson speaks of “years” which he spent weaning Holmes from his addiction. Wait a second, when? He takes drugs after Watson’s marriage, which means that the only “years” in question are 1889 to 1895. Watson was married from 1889 to at least 1891, and even if you do not subscribe to that theory, there are cases set in that time, so Holmes and Watson could not have gone somewhere to get Holmes to abandon his habit, which leaves only the years after 1891 – that is, the hiatus. The theory that Holmes and Watson faked the whole thing and then retired to the country to wean Holmes from the drugs is about as old as The Empty House.
Yet not all is well, and Watson still fears the ghosts of the past…
Conclusion:
Pre-Watson in 1881: Holmes does take drugs, but only occasionally.
1881 – early 1888: Still occasionally, at least not often enough for Watson to really worry.
Mid-1888 – spring 1889: Holmes takes drugs, first to escape boredom, which makes Watson distance himself from him, and then to escape the pain after Watson has indeed put a distance between them (regardless of which theory on Mary you favour)
Summer 1889 – 1891: Assuming that Moriarty is real, I would tend to think that Holmes is not taking drugs during this time as he cannot complain about lack of stimulus or clients, Watson having started publishing and Moriarty being delightfully interesting (if dangerous).
1891 – 1894: The hiatus. It might be that Holmes and Watson spent that time together to fight the addiction, and when they felt secure that they had it under control, they finally returned to London. This also fits in with the dates of the short stories that mention drugs set prior to Holmes’s return: Watson certainly had the drugs in his mind at that time and maybe even used the accounts he published to remind Holmes of fighting on…
Post-hiatus: The fiend is not dead but sleeping. And yet, we only get one relapse (Holmes in The Three Gables is completely bizarre at best), and even that is not canonically confirmed.
So, summing up: It’s incredibly sweet that Holmes has his worst period in life when left by Watson, and that Watson probably went into hiding for years to help Holmes, and that together they prevailed in the end…
The Three Garridebs - the gayest ACD canon story?
It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man the penalties of the law. Yet there was certainly an element of comedy. Well, you shall judge for yourselves.
Personally, I find this introduction odd. It is unlike what Watson usually does. Which means it is important: let us look for the “tragedy” and the “comedy” in this story:
Tragedy: loss of “sanity”, “penalties of the law”
“Comedy” underwent a change in meaning: broadly speaking, it is a story with a happy ending (the oft-cited example is Dante’s Divine Comedy, which is not comic at all) story with a happy ending (cf definition; “humorous story” dates from 1877, so that meaning still lingers, and nothing in that case is actually really funny). What happy ending do we have here? “Loyalty and love”, of course, a declaration of love! (FINALLY)
in my position of partner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly careful to avoid any indiscretion
Yes, he really should avoid indiscretion in this case…
My friend here knows nothing of the details.”
Mr. Garrideb surveyed me with not too friendly a gaze.
“Need he know?” he asked.
“We usually work together.”
Again, Watson is more important than “the work”, Holmes being completely fine with Mr Garridebs (well, Killer Evans’s) hostility. Either the two of them, or none…
It was twilight of a lovely spring evening, and even Little Ryder Street, one of the smaller offshoots from the Edgware Road, within a stone-cast of old Tyburn Tree of evil memory, looked golden and wonderful in the slanting rays of the setting sun
This description is as romantic as the one in The Devil’s Foot. Much more romantic than anything Watson ever managed in a story connected with his wife (i.e. The Sign of Four). Huh.
“This is a more serious matter than I had expected, Watson,” said he. “It is fair to tell you so, though I know it will only be an additional reason to you for running your head into danger. I should know my Watson by now. But there is danger, and you should know it.”
“Well, it is not the first we have shared, Holmes. I hope it may not be the last.
Danger-addict John Watson. No, seriously, “my Watson”? And “I hope it may not be the last.”?
There was one cupboard in a dark corner which stood out a little from the wall. It was behind this that we eventually crouched while Holmes in a whisper outlined his intentions.
Any reason why he had to whisper his ideas to Watson here in this room? I mean, other than being as close to Watson as possible under this pretext?
“You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say that you are not hurt!”
It was worth a wound–it was worth many wounds–to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain.
THAT QUOTE. No comment.
“By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?
See above. They are both ready to die for each other – and to kill. Which is not good, but a sign of how much love there is between them.
Just imagine them, arm in arm, looking expectantly into the unknown after a successfully solved case. Mwah.
---------------------------
TJLC in 1895 - already
I will focus on the Sherlock Holmes short stories that are certainly set in 1895. This has obviously something to do with the fact that the Sherlock Christmas Special has been announced to play in that year, but also with the important event of Oscar Wilde’s trials and their repercussions, which are quite blatantly alluded to or referenced in the 1895 stories. These stories are The Solitary Cyclist (late April), The Three Students (late April/early May?), Black Peter (early July) and The Bruce-Partington Plans (November).
The first story is The Solitary Cyclist, published in 1903. The plot is such: the main villain schemes to marry a Miss Violet Smith, who unbeknownst to her will inherit a large fortune upon her uncle’s death, and eventually he forces her to marry him, but as she was certainly unwilling the marriage is void (she was gagged and the others were armed, also the priest was defrocked and thus not allowed to perform a marriage ceremony). In my opinion, this case is the only 1895 one that’s really completely genuine. The case is an “outside” one: a client appears and seeks help and advice, unlike in the other cases, where the cases are brought to Holmes by a friend, Professor Soames, a police inspector who has worked with Holmes before and whom Holmes likes, Stanley Hopkins, and Brother Mycroft. Moreover, unlike The Three Students and The Bruce-Partington Plans, it has a clear and “final” ending: Miss Smith marries her fiancee and “all’s well”, the villains being sentenced to prison terms. The Three Students and The Bruce-Partington Plans are much more “hush-up”. However, this case is of some importance because Watson drew inspiration from it for another 1895 story, in my mind. Additionally, it is the only case set in 1895 where Holmes and Watson are not in some way hiding, but that is explicable: the most important, last trial has not begun yet, and the second one is only starting.
On to The Three Students, published in 1904. I have already analysed the opening paragraphs in some depth before, this being a quotation from my general analysis:
“It was in the year ‘95 that a combination of events, into which I need not enter, caused Mr. Sherlock Holmes and myself to spend some weeks in one of our great University towns […] It will be obvious that any details which would help the reader to exactly identify the college or the criminal would be injudicious and offensive. So painful a scandal may well be allowed to die out. With due discretion the incident itself may, however, be described, since it serves to illustrate some of those qualities for which my friend was remarkable. I will endeavour in my statement to avoid such terms as would serve to limit the events to any particular place, or give a clue as to the people concerned.”
Or to give a clue as to what really happened. So… Explanation:
1. In the year 1895 there were the Oscar Wilde trials, which caused a great many men who were more or less openly gay to “go on holiday” for a few months.
2. Universities were supposed to be more progressive than cities. Oscar Wilde met Robbie Ross at uni.
3. The “painful scandal” Watson is talking about here is about three students who are meant to sit a Greek exam, but one of them cheats. That’s not a scandal. Everybody who has even taken Greek knows that knowing the translation beforehand is the one way to pass.
4. They had to flee from London because of the public awareness the spectacular trials had caused, went to a friend of Holmes’.
5. But of course Watson could not say it like that, so he had to invent a virtually new case.
“No, no, my dear sir; such a course is utterly impossible. When once the law is evoked it cannot be stayed again, and this is just one of those cases where, for the credit of the college, it is most essential to avoid scandal. Your discretion is as well known as your powers, and you are the one man in the world who can help me. I beg you, Mr. Holmes, to do what you can.”
Taken out of context, this quote is suggestive.
The fact that even though Holmes is clearly everything but thrilled at being anywhere but Baker Street, he is not in London anyway, is fairly obvious: “My friend’s temper had not improved since he had been deprived of the congenial surroundings of Baker Street. Without his scrap-books, his chemicals, and his homely untidiness, he was an uncomfortable man.”
This is important because 3STU is not the only case where Holmes and Watson leave London for a prolonged period of time. What are they doing in that “university town”? The given reason (research into old charters) is more than suspicious. Yet if you consider the circumstances of the Oscar Wilde trials in April and May it becomes clear that the best thing to do if the slightest rumour about you existed was to flee. And given Watson’s writing, such rumours must have circulated.
“The exercise consists of half a chapter of Thucydides.” The exam papers that are left on the professor’s desk are taken from Thucydides, probably by his most famous work on the Peloponnesian War. Thucydides was a Athenian historian who lived in the 5th century BC and is known for being an analyst and “scientific” writer – he credits humans with their actions, not the gods. Furthermore, Athens (the most “glorious” city in Greece) was his home, but he was exiled for something that was not his fault. Does this sound like someone? Holmes, maybe? Here, Watson had to invent an exam, and he chose an author who mirrors Holmes.
But what is this story actually about then, if not the exam?
““The moment I looked at my table I was aware that someone had rummaged among my papers. The proof was in three long slips. I had left them all together. Now, I found that one of them was lying on the floor, one was on the side table near the window, and the third was where I had left it.””
Professor Soames, who has been harbouring two fugitives, has left some incriminating papers of his own lying around, and is now extremely anxious to recover them.
Another hint that the papers are not, in fact, exam papers can be found here: “For an instant I imagined that Bannister had taken the unpardonable liberty of examining my papers. […] A large sum of money is at stake” What this sounds like is – again – blackmail…
Professor Soames refuses to call in the police, saying equivocal things such as these: “Do help me, Mr. Holmes! You see my dilemma. Either I must find the man or else the examination must be postponed until fresh papers are prepared, and since this cannot be done without explanation there will ensue a hideous scandal, which will throw a cloud not only on the college, but on the University. Above all things I desire to settle the matter quietly and discreetly.”
Of course Holmes takes the case, and starts to ask about the three strips of paper the supposed exam is printed on. “Let me see the three strips. No finger impressions — no! Well, he carried over this one first and he copied it. How long would it take him to do that, using every possible contraction? A quarter of an hour, not less. Then he tossed it down and seized the next. He was in the midst of that when your return caused him to make a very hurried retreat — VERY hurried, since he had not time to replace the papers which would tell you that he had been there.”
This makes absolutely no sense if what the student was copying was indeed Thucydides. It is completely unnecessary to copy three sheets of densely packed Greek text, the student could have copied only the first and last sentences and looked up the text in the next library, for instance, or even only memorised the chapter numbers. The fact that he needed to copy the whole text shows that he had stumbled upon something that had to be in full – probably private correspondence or suchlike.
The three possible culprits – the three students who live in the building – are now described. The third is Scottish and supposedly “wayward, dissipated, and unprincipled. He was nearly expelled over a card scandal in his first year.” Lord Alfred Douglas? Wilde’s (Scottish) lover?
Anyway, the story goes on, Holmes investigates, and at some point he starts joking with Watson: “What with your eternal tobacco, Watson, and your irregularity at meals, I expect that you will get notice to quit and that I shall share your downfall — not, however, before we have solved the problem”. This is a truth veiled in a joke… The public fall from grace was a possibility.
Next morning we get some more indication that the matter concerns more than a simple scholarship: “The unfortunate tutor was certainly in a state of pitiable agitation when we found him in his chambers. […] He could hardly stand still, so great was his mental agitation, and he ran towards Holmes with two eager hands outstretched.” Slightly exaggerated for a scholarship, right? Right.
Holmes of course identifies the culprit, who fully repents and begs for forgiveness, which is granted, and he embarks to Rhodesia. This ties is nicely with the theme of people who are not “real” criminals going into exile that can be found throughout the story: the “culprit” flees.
Now comes Black Peter, also published in 1904. It starts with a few clues of exactly how Watson sees Holmes: “I have never known my friend to be in better form, both mental and physical, than in the year ‘95.” and “Holmes, however, like all great artists, lived for his art’s sake” (come on, sound even more like Oscar Wilde – oh, not possible, I understand…). He also calls the year “memorable”, which it must have been – Holmes and Watson spent a nice part of it most purposefully not in London, i.e. hiding somewhere.
The story is set in early July. Just as a reminder, Wilde lost his third trial against the Crown on May 25, and everybody involved who had not made his way to the country or continent yet or had returned like Holmes and Watson, did so then. Initially, Watson is at home in Baker Street, but Holmes is not: “my friend had been absent so often and so long from our lodgings”, which implies that even though Holmes has to be in London for some reasons, he does his best in order not to be available or even findable.
In itself the story is rather unremarkable, although it does contain blackmail, which is always a red blaring alert: the murderer kills his “victim” after said “victim” had assaulted him, but the murderer had only been there in the first place because he though that Black Peter “could afford to pay me well for keeping my mouth shut.” Now, this has probably no bearing on the story whatsoever, but I still think it is interesting to mention that these events the murderer is meant not to mention happened on a ship. In Victorian times, sea-life and especially the London docks had a certain…unsavoury reputation: mostly because they were the place you had most choice in rent boys.
The whole thing ends with this line from Holmes: “If you want me for the trial, my address and that of Watson will be somewhere in Norway – I’ll send particulars later.” Apart from the pun on the trial, this mostly shows that Holmes is taking the chance of leaving the country, apparently “for a case”, for a very long time – he had virtually no case-connected reason to go to Norway (he could have sent wires to clear up the loose strands, as he always does, and anyway Norway is not important for the case), but Norway is far enough from London to be safe, is it not? To put it in a nutshell, the case begins with Holmes hiding and ends with Holmes and Watson leaving the country on a trip that will mean that they will not be traceable for a while – Holmes’s detective friend (and he does like Hopkins) only gets a “promise for later”.
The Bruce-Partington Plans is the last story that is “officially” set in 1895. It was published in 1908.
Watson begins the narrative with a statement of the date: “in the third week of November, in the year 1895”, and goes on to clarify that he and Holmes have not left the flat for four days, asserting that this happened because of the “dense yellow fog”. Translation: it has been six months since Oscar Wilde’s trials, the waters have mostly calmed down, but it would still be unwise to be too noticeable to the outside world, and Holmes and Watson are hiding. Indeed, so much so that only Jupiter leaving his orbit (i.e. Brother Mycroft) can drag them out of Baker Street. This impression is reinforced by the association of the colour yellow with caution (http://www.colormatters.com/the-meanings-of-colors/yellow) – they simply cannot risk being overly visible, but are in Baker Street because everything else (given Holmes’s famous habits) would attract even more attention.
Because of the mental stagnation following from this “exile”, Holmes is bored and much annoyed although Watson attempts to interest him in a few cases mentioned on the papers, and yet again we see Holmes regretfully speculating about his possible life as a criminal himself: “Holmes snorted his contempt. “This great and sombre stage is set for something more worthy than that,” said he. “It is fortunate for this community that I am not a criminal.”” This is significant because it proves yet again that Holmes would not have any problem with being one and openly flouting the law. Only Watson’s moral integrity keeps him from that side.
Holmes then gets a telegram from Mycroft, and it is again stressed that Mycroft is very strongly connected with the Diogenes Club. Now, there has been much speculation whether the canon Diogenes Club is not, in fact, a gentlemen’s club. Sherlock’s stopping to go there regularly upon meeting the doctor points in that direction, but this is not the place for this discussion (The Greek Interpreter is much more focused on the Diogenes).
The telegram runs like this: “Must see you over Cadogan West. Coming at once. – Mycroft.” The first sentence is of extreme importance. It does not sound like Cadogan West was a name, more like code for something. But what could it mean? It took me a while to decipher it, but reading up Oscar Wilde’s trials (again) helped me along. In the course of the trials he was arrested while he was staying at the Cadogan Hotel, which was located in the West of London. This is huge because it clearly links the case, which is brought in by a person capable of manipulating the public order, with the scandal surrounding Wilde. Message: “we are not done yet, some things still have to be tidied up”. Here, it might also be interesting to note that the government originally wanted to hush the whole scandal surrounding him up, and not give him a prison sentence at all, but in the end the government had no choice but to accept the impending sentence because the public was set against Wilde very strongly.
There are a few references to discretion in the following paragraphs (“one has to be discreet”), and another emphasis on the fact that Mycroft must have an extremely valid reason for coming to Sherlock (probably because it is too delicate a matter for Mycroft): “Jupiter is descending to-day. What on earth can it mean?” (Holmes). He then continues wondering: “Who is Cadogan West, and what is he to Mycroft?” Holmes probably assumes Cadogan West is code for a person of some importance to Mycroft. Could Mycroft himself be in danger of getting tied up in a scandal?
Maybe not, but guess what this young man is believed to have done? He has stolen some secret papers from the army (can be read as “Mycroft” - even Holmes clearly says this: “Government employ. Behold the link with Brother Mycroft!”), ten pages in total, but when ends up with his head smashed in on the tram tracks, and only seven sheets in his pocket, which leaves three sheets of potentially dangerous content…somewhere Mycroft has no access to. So Mycroft needs Sherlock to bring those papers back. The claim that these ten sheets of paper are technical plans is nonsensical: the plans are supposed to enable the holder to build a Bruce-Partington submarine, which makes no sense at all given the technicality of a submarine. No, this is ridiculous and Mofftisson know it: the Bruce-Partington programme turn out to be completely inconsequential in S1E3. The only thing that this tells us is that somebody needed the original copies to achieve a certain goal. Well…
Now comes another clue: Cadogan West is engaged to a Miss Violet Westbury. This is the second Violet in a 1895 case, and as The Solitary Cyclist was published before The Bruce-Partington Plans, it can only be deduced that Watson recycled a name, hinting at the fact that most of this story is heavily…edited.
A few clues about the importance of the case and the nature of the “papers” follow, but it get really interesting only when the next names are mentioned: the clerk who had the keys to the safe is called Sidney Johnson. It must be remembered that Watson chooses his names with much care, and this name can be taken apart quite nicely: “Sidney” could very well refer to the Sidney Sussex College in Cambridge, which Dorothy L Sayers suggests as Holmes’s college (where, incidentally, he met Victor Trevor, who has been argued was Holmes’s first love interest), while “Johnson” may allude to the Lionel Johnson who introduced Oscar Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie). (OK, this is a long shot. But.)
Holmes and Watson have to go out an investigate, even though the thick yellow fog remains, and find that a man responsible for the safety of the papers has died of broken heart, apparently: ““It was this horrible scandal,” said he. “My brother, Sir James, was a man of very sensitive honour, and he could not survive such an affair. […]” Taken out of context, this statement is so equivocal…
Watson is sent back home by Holmes, which gives birth to a few rather sweet sentences:
“I will do nothing serious without my trusted comrade and biographer at my elbow.”
“All the long November evening I waited, filled with impatience for his return.”
“"I don’t like it, Holmes."”
"My dear fellow, you shall keep watch in the street. I’ll do the criminal part. It’s not a time to stick at trifles. Think of Mycroft’s note, of the Admiralty, the Cabinet, the exalted person who waits for news. We are bound to go.”
My answer was to rise from the table.
“You are right, Holmes. We are bound to go.”
He sprang up and shook me by the hand.
“I knew you would not shrink at the last,” said he, and for a moment I saw something in his eyes which was nearer to tenderness than I had ever seen. The next instant he was his masterful, practical self once more.
“It is nearly half a mile, but there is no hurry. Let us walk,” said he. “Don’t drop the instruments, I beg. Your arrest as a suspicious character would be a most unfortunate complication.””
Holmes is actually joking about Watson’s “un-virtues” again…
In the spy’s flat they have just broken into they find the spy’s correspondence with a certain Pierrot, who is the one who stole the papers. Remember what I said about names; a poem published by Olive Custance, who married Lord Alfred Douglas in 1902, is called “Pierrot”.
Lestrade, who is clearly in on everything Holmes does, puns: “But some of these days you’ll go too far, and you’ll find yourself and your friend in trouble.”
The story ends with the whole spy part of the murder (obviously) hushed up, and the man who stole the papers – although partly redeemed by helping Holmes to get them back – dies after two years in prison. Wait. Who else’s death was directly caused by a prison sentence of two years? Oh, yes, Oscar’s.
Quite a lot about one scandal in four stories – makes you wonder why exactly Sir ACD did that…
Oh, Mofftisson, please include some of this in the Christmas Special!
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TJLC - gay subplots in canon
Just a few out of many instances where subplots or allusions point towards Holmes and Watson being together – mirroring is used very frequently to show the literal elephant in the room…
The Sign of Four, chapter 9
“In the early dawn I woke with a start and was surprised to find him standing by my bedside, clad in a rude sailor dress with a peajacket and a coarse red scarf round his neck.
“I am off down the river, Watson,” said he. “I have been turning it over in my mind, and I can see only one way out of it. It is worth trying, at all events.”
“Surely I can come with you, then?” said I.
“No […] "”
One of the code signs that gay men used were red kerchiefs, and which translates to Holmes’s red scarf quite neatly, especially given the thing I explained above with the docks. He goes off to investigate the docks, and Watson would accompany him, but Holmes is always one to “spare” Watson reconnaissance, and The Sign of Four is packed with angst anyway, so Holmes would not want Watson to come along. I suppose this scene is not exactly paramount. But the thought of Holmes possibly posing as a rent boy for a case is rather nice, is it not?
A Study in Scarlet, chapter 6
Inspector Gregson: “The young man volunteered a statement, in which he said that after following Drebber some time, the latter perceived him, and took a cab in order to get away from him. On his way home he met an old shipmate, and took a long walk with him. On being asked where this old shipmate lived, he was unable to give any satisfactory reply.”
What on Earth did those two shipmates (it is becoming a cliche and I am perfectly aware of it, but it fits too well) do in the middle of the night for several hours? It is repeated over and over that that particular night was extremely rainy, so the “walk” cannot have happened. Homosexual subplot number one – and in the first story already. What was Watson thinking when he decided to include this? Foreshadowing? After all, the story was not published until 1887.
The Priory School
The Duke explaining his son’s relationship with the main villain: “The fellow was a rascal from the beginning; but in some extraordinary way James became intimate with him. He had always a taste for low company.”
And his Grace clearly does not approve, and with a good reason in this case. Mr James Wilder will proceed to emigrate to Australia at the end of the story. Oh. Again?
The Gloria Scott
Holmes recounting his first case to Watson years later, and speaking for the first time of his only friend: “Trevor used to come in to inquire after me. At first it was only a minute’s chat, but soon his visits lengthened, and before the end of the term we were close friends. He was a hearty, full-blooded fellow, full of spirits and energy, the very opposite to me in most respects, but we had some subjects in common, and it was a bond of union when I found that he was as friendless as I. Finally, he invited me down to his father’s place at Donnithorpe, in Norfolk, and I accepted his hospitality for a month of the long vacation.”
I am very sorry but this does not sound like an only-a-friend “friend” all that much, to be honest.
If anyone is interested, the story’s plot is that Trevor’s father is blackmailed (!) by a sailor (!) about something that happened years ago on a ship (!). Fine, let us just call it a trope. But really.
This is what Holmes tells us about the aftermath of the revelation of what his father did on that ship for Victor Trevor: “The good fellow was heart-broken at it, and went out to the Terai tea planting, where I hear that he is doing well.”
Does this flight/exile remind us of anybody in specific? No?
Wisteria Lodge
Mr Scott Eccles about himself and Mr Garcia:
“"I’m sure it must look very bad, Mr. Holmes, and I am not aware that in my whole life such a thing has ever happened before. But I will tell you the whole queer business, and when I have done so you will admit, I am sure, that there has been enough to excuse me.”
[…]
“I am a bachelor,” said he, “and being of a sociable turn I cultivate a large number of friends. Among these are the family of a retired brewer called Melville, living at Abermarle Mansion, Kensington. It was at his table that I met some weeks ago a young fellow named Garcia. He was, I understood, of Spanish descent and connected in some way with the embassy. He spoke perfect English, was pleasing in his manners, and as good-looking a man as ever I saw in my life.
In some way we struck up quite a friendship, this young fellow and I. He seemed to take a fancy to me from the first, and within two days of our meeting he came to see me at Lee. One thing led to another, and it ended in his inviting me out to spend a few days at his house, Wisteria Lodge, between Esher and Oxshott. Yesterday evening I went to Esher to fulfill this engagement.” ”
No need to comment much on this one; “one thing led to another” is pretty unambiguous.
The Blanched Soldier
James M Dodd speaking about Godfrey Emsworth:
“There was not a finer lad in the regiment. We formed a friendship — the sort of friendship which can only be made when one lives the same life and shares the same joys and sorrows. He was my mate — and that means a good deal in the Army. We took the rough and the smooth together for a year of hard fighting. Then he was hit with a bullet from an elephant gun in the action near Diamond Hill outside-Pretoria. I got one letter from the hospital at Cape Town and one from Southampton. Since then not a word — not one word, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my closest pal.”
“Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and then I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey had gone on a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he would be back for a year. That was all. I wasn’t satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to me so damned unnatural. He was a good lad, and he would not drop a pal like that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know that he was heir to a lot of money, and also that his father and he did not always hit it off too well. The old man was sometimes a bully, and young Godfrey had too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn’t satisfied, and I determined that I would get to the root of the matter. […] Since I have taken it up I mean to drop everything in order to see it through.”
Speaking to Godfrey’s father: “I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memories united us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his sudden silence and should wish to know what has become of him?”
A love declaration to the father: “ You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.”
The father then speaks of “a delicate and difficult position.”
And guess into what direction James’s thoughts immediately go – he knows his friend very well: The old man’s words seemed to me to bear only one interpretation. Clearly my poor friend had become involved in some criminal or, at the least, disreputable transaction which touched the family honour. That stern old man had sent his son away and hidden him from the world lest some scandal should come to light. Godfrey was a reckless fellow. He was easily influenced by those around him. No doubt he had fallen into bad hands and been misled to his ruin.
Of course, there has to be a happy ending: the father mistook a skin disease Godfrey had for leprosy and locked him up with his consent, and this is the friends’ (lovers’) reunion:
“A man was standing with his back to the fire, and at the sight of him my client sprang forward with outstretched hand.
“Why, Godfrey, old man, this is fine!”
But the other waved him back.
“Don’t touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance. Yes, you may well stare! I don’t quite look the smart Lance-Corporal Emsworth, of B Squadron, do I?"”
Nicknames? Comments on smart looks? Also, so much love and angst… This is not even a subplot any more. This is just a love story as a plot, and nobody noticed back then…
As said above, subplots are important because they mirror Holmes and Watson and they would not be noticed by most readers, especially, of course, when the stories are set.
I will leave you to draw your own conclusions.
