Saved Archived Meta: Sherloki1854 (pt.5)

[221bcrow]

What does Mary Morstan even do in the books?

NB: People argue that the Doctor’s marriage (at least one; to Miss Mary Morstan) is canon.

For the sake of this argument, it has to be assumed Holmes and Watson were two real people and Sir ACD merely their editor.

(The cases are sorted chronologically, by the way.)

 

 

The Noble Bachelor, 1887

It is set in 1887, but it is supposed to be “a few weeks” before Watson’s marriage. Either Watson was married before Mary Morstan, but that would mean that he married this potential wife in 1887, that she died in the course of that year, and that Watson remarries in early 1889 after meeting Mary in 1888. Which does not sound too logical. Or somebody just got the dates wrong (by no means unlikely, this is Watson writing). Still, it does not really “do” for a husband to forget the year in which he was married…

 

The Five Orange Pips, 1887

My wife was on a visit to her mother’s, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street.

First, wrong year again. Secondly, the reason why Mary came to Holmes for help was that she was orphaned and thus alone in the world. So Watson does not only forget his wedding date, but his wife’s family relations as well. Or Mary tricks him into thinking that she is visiting a nonexistent mother and is instead having an affair. Which, again, shows how much Watson was paying attention (not): if it is an excuse, it is possibly the worst I have ever heard. Or Mary does not exist at all and Watson just invented a wife when he needed to remind the readers that he was married. Anyway, this does not bode well for Mary’s importance.

 

The Sign of Four, 1888

Mary Morstan, an orphan, first appears in The Sign of Four, where she is introduced as a client. She has lost her father in 1878 and is now appealing to Holmes’s help. In the course of the case, Mary looses a treasure she had claims on, but gains a husband instead; Watson almost immediately proposes to her.

Miss Morstan entered the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. She was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity about her costume which bore with it a suggestion of limited means. The dress was a sombre grayish beige, untrimmed and unbraided, and she wore a small turban of the same dull hue, relieved only by a suspicion of white feather in the side. Her face had neither regularity of feature nor beauty of complexion, but her expression was sweet and amiable, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritual and sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature.

After the first interview:

I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts were far from the daring speculations of the writer. My mind ran upon our late visitor — her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her father’s disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now — a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience.

Now, if you do not believe in love at first sight, this might be interesting because a popular and by no means unlikely theory is that Watson invented a wife (or more) to keep the readers from wondering. (Good luck with that.)

 

The Crooked Man, 1888

One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my own hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day’s work had been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs, and the sound of the locking of the hall door some time before told me that the servants had also retired. I had risen from my seat and was knocking out the ashes of my pipe when I suddenly heard the clang of the bell.

I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to twelve. This could not be a visitor at so late an hour. A patient, evidently, and possibly an all-night sitting. With a wry face I went out into the hall and opened the door. To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood upon my step.

“Ah, Watson,” said he, “I hoped that I might not be too late to catch you.”

“My dear fellow, pray come in.”

“You look surprised, and no wonder! Relieved, too, I fancy! Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days then! There’s no mistaking that fluffy ash upon your coat. It’s easy to tell that you have been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson. You’ll never pass as a pure-bred civilian as long as you keep that habit of carrying your handkerchief in your sleeve. Could you put me up tonight?”

“With pleasure.”

“You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that you have no gentleman visitor at present. Your hat-stand proclaims as much.”

“I shall be delighted if you will stay.”

So, Watson is exhausted, but instead of joining Mary in bed, he is essentially hiding from her. And although he is supposedly exhausted and does not like the prospect of being kept up all night, Watson sees Holmes and although he has myriad experience with Holmes keeping him up all night (no pun intended), he is “delighted”.

 

The Second Stain, 1888

Although it is set in autumn, there is no mention of the wife. So I suppose her loving husband just forgot her.

 

The Boscombe Valley Mystery, 1888

Note: this is probably set just after the marriage

We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way:

Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15.

“What do you say, dear?” said my wife, looking across at me. “Will you go?”

“I really don’t know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present.”

“Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes’s cases.”

Translation: Let us assume Mary actually exists for the sake of this argument. Watson has been married for maybe a month, and he is already looking ill. Why? Because he is locked up with his wife instead of being with Holmes. Watson’s health is getting so desperate that his wife literally begs him to meet Holmes for what appears to be a romantic holiday in rural England. (“Air and scenery perfect” - really, Holmes?)

 

A Scandal in Bohemia, 1889

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other.

Well, if you want to convince yourself so much… However, fact is that on his way back home from a patient, he just so accidentally ends up on Holmes’s doorstep (probably not for the first time) and is seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again. Make what you want of that.

 

The Stockbroker’s Clerk, 1889

Shortly after my marriage I had bought a connection in the Paddington district.

[…]

I was too busy to visit Baker Street, and he seldom went anywhere himself save upon professional business. I was surprised, therefore, when, one morning in June, as I sat reading the British Medical Journal after breakfast, I heard a ring at the bell, followed by the high, somewhat strident tones of my old companion’s voice.

“Ah, my dear Watson,” said he, striding into the room, “I am very delighted to see you! I trust that Mrs. Watson has entirely recovered from all the little excitements connected with our adventure of the Sign of Four.”

“Thank you, we are both very well,” said I, shaking him warmly by the hand.

“And I hope, also,” he continued, sitting down in the rocking-chair, “that the cares of medical practice have not entirely obliterated the interest which you used to take in our little deductive problems.”

“On the contrary,” I answered, “it was only last night that I was looking over my old notes, and classifying some of our past results.”

Long story short, a newly married man spends his time writing about his platonic best friend. Right. Watson is in a state because he cannot be with Holmes as often as he would like and so tries to evoke his “spirit” by writing about him. Does this sound like he married the right person?

 

The Man With The Twisted Lip, 1889

One night — it was in June, ’89 — there came a ring to my bell, about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment.

“A patient!” said she. “You’ll have to go out.”

I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day.

We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room.

“You will excuse my calling so late,” she began, and then, suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about my wife’s neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. “Oh, I’m in such trouble!” she cried; “I do so want a little help.”

“Why,” said my wife, pulling up her veil, “it is Kate Whitney. How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in.”

“I didn’t know what to do, so I came straight to you.” That was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a light-house.

“It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or should you rather that I sent James off to bed?”

Later, after he has found Whitney in that opium den and Holmes too:

It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes’s requests, for they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his existence.

Watson will spend the next night in a single room with Holmes somewhere outside of London and his wife will not get to see him for some time. Also, I could simply paste in what I wrote above; the upshot of it being that a tired Watson immediately stops being tired and listless as soon as he gets out of his wife’s company and sees Holmes. Well…

Oh, and has anyone noticed that Mary calls John Watson “James”? This is where they got the “Hamish” from (he is called John H. Watson, and he is probably Scottish, and “Hamish” was “James” in Scotland). Or Mary is cheating on our doctor with a man called James and Watson does not notice, for crying out loud.

 

The Naval Treaty, 1889

The July which immediately succeeded my marriage was made memorable by three cases of interest

[…]

My wife agreed with me that not a moment should be lost in laying the matter before him, and so within an hour of breakfast-time I found myself back once more in the old rooms in Baker Street.

[…]

Watson and Percy Phelps return to London, while Holmes investigates on. And they do not go to Watson’s, but to Baker Street, although Mrs Watson is in town. And on the following morning: It was seven o'clock when I awoke, and I set off at once for Phelps’s room, to find him haggard and spent after a sleepless night. His first question was whether Holmes had arrived yet.

First, breakfast-time with his wife does not seem particularly important to our dead doctor. Moreover, he is so engrossed in Holmes’s case that instead of returning to his own home and comfortable bed, he stays in the Baker Street living room or Holmes’s bedroom for the night because it is clearly stated that Percy sleeps in the “spare bedroom”, i.e. Watson’s old room. Either he cannot face his wife, or – as said before – he has by now forgotten that he created one. Which is by no means uncommon for Watson; he often mentions his wife in the first paragraph and then immediately forgets her, spending the after-case time with Holmes as well. (For an example, see immediately below.)

 

The Dying Detective, 1890

Holmes fakes illness for a case, and Mrs Hudson goes to warn Watson:

I listened earnestly to her story when she came to my rooms in the second year of my married life and told me of the sad condition to which my poor friend was reduced.

[…]

I was horrified for I had heard nothing of his illness. I need not say that I rushed for my coat and my hat.

[…]

And the ending of the case is such: Holmes suggests that When we have finished at the police-station I think that something nutritious at Simpson’s would not be out of place.

So Watson just runs off without remotely thinking about alerting his wife or anything, and then lets Holmes take him out on a date. Watson either is not married, or he does not care all that much. Which I personally would not believe Watson is callous enough for.

 

The Blue Carbuncle, 1890

It all starts with Watson coming to Baker Street on Boxing Day: I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season.

But the story ends with him staying for a Christmas dinner. Holmes says: If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature.

Do you not have a wife to return to, doctor?

 

The Final Problem, 1891

It may be remembered that after my marriage, and my subsequent start in private practice, the very intimate relations which had existed between Holmes and myself became to some extent modified.

[…]

“I must apologise for calling so late,” said he, “and I must further beg you to be so unconventional as to allow me to leave your house presently by scrambling over your back garden wall.”

“But what does it all mean?” I asked.

He held out his hand, and I saw in the light of the lamp that two of his knuckles were burst and bleeding.

“It is not an airy nothing, you see,” said he, smiling. “On the contrary, it is solid enough for a man to break his hand over. Is Mrs. Watson in?”

“She is away upon a visit.”

“Indeed! You are alone?”

“Quite.”

“Then it makes it the easier for me to propose that you should come away with me for a week to the Continent.”

“Where?”

“Oh, anywhere. It’s all the same to me.”

Watson’s nonexistent wife is nonexistent. The luck he has that she is always visiting random people… (And if you are interested, there is no reason whatsoever to go anywhere. Holmes only wants Watson on another romantic holiday, this time in the Alps.)

 

The Empty House, 1894

In some manner he had learned of my own sad bereavement, and his sympathy was shown in his manner rather than in his words. “Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson,” said he, “and I have a piece of work for us both to-night which, if we can bring it to a successful conclusion, will in itself justify a man’s life on this planet.” In vain I begged him to tell me more. “You will hear and see enough before morning,” he answered. “We have three years of the past to discuss. Let that suffice until half-past nine, when we start upon the notable adventure of the empty house.”

And that is the last we will ever hear of Watson’s wife.

Incidentally, it has been suggested that Mary 1) died, 2) divorced, or 3) was arrested. How could that be? Well, here is an interesting quotation from Holmes:

“My collection of M’s is a fine one,” said he. “Moriarty himself is enough to make any letter illustrious, and here is Morgan the poisoner, and Merridew of abominable memory, and Mathews, who knocked out my left canine in the waiting-room at Charing Cross, and, finally, here is our friend of to-night [Moran].”

I.e.: Ms are evil. Morstan…

 

 

The Norwood Builder, 1894

At the time of which I speak Holmes had been back for some months, and I, at his request, had sold my practice and returned to share the old quarters in Baker Street. A young doctor, named Verner, had purchased my small Kensington practice, and given with astonishingly little demur the highest price that I ventured to ask—an incident which only explained itself some years later when I found that Verner was a distant relation of Holmes’s, and that it was my friend who had really found the money.

No mention of his wife’s death – only of Holmes’s return. Which also suggests that Mary did not in fact die but was either killed off by Watson or they got divorced, depending on which theory you favour. And, by the way, it means that Holmes is prepared to spend a fortune on Watson’s return to Baker Street without telling him. This is very sweet.

 

The Blanched Soldier, 1903

I find from my notebook that it was in January, 1903, just after the conclusion of the Boer War, that I had my visit from Mr. James M. Dodd, a big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone.

This is Holmes speaking of a wife who will never be mentioned again and even though I will not enter into all the subtext that is in the two stories narrated from Holmes’s perspective, let it just be said that there are some real doubts regarding his retiring alone. (Big surprise.) The story has a huge gay subplot that I have explained already, which could hint at the gay plot that is also going on, although Holmes and Watson have to take precautions because they have got the people talking again…

In conclusion:  

There are two theories too choose from: That Watson was indeed married but that he was not interested in his wife at all, which enabled her to have affairs, lie to him etc, or that Watson invented Mary as a necessary plot device.

Personally I believe in the second theory for the following reasons: In the first story (A Study in Scarlet), Watson does not show much interest in women, and in The Sign of Four, Sir ACD (or the doctor himself) saw the necessity to establish Dr Watson as a heterosexual married man to avoid rumours about a potential “deviant” relationship between Holmes and Watson. So a wife was invented, presented as absolutely lovely during in The Sign of Four, and is then literally made to disappear. After her first appearance, she never so much as says more than three sentences in a row. The author clearly did not make much effort creating Mary Morstan’s character, which can be concluded from several facts, icluding the one that we do not even know how Mary dies. Or if.

But be as it may: do you really get the impression that the doctor cared at all about this wife of his?

----------------------

Watson is a unreliable narrator. And he isn’t even ashamed of it.

Charles Augustus Milverton, 1885-1888?

It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the facts public; but now the principal person concerned is beyond the reach of human law, and with due suppression the story may be told in such fashion as to injure no one. It records an absolutely unique experience in the career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me if I conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual occurrence.

So Watson simply says that he will change any facts he deems necessary. Beautiful.

 

The Second Stain, 1888

If in telling the story I seem to be somewhat vague in certain details the public will readily understand that there is an excellent reason for my reticence.

It was, then, in a year, and even in a decade, that shall be nameless, that upon one Tuesday morning in autumn we found two visitors of European fame within the walls of our humble room in Baker Street.

“Somewhat vague”? If you read the second sentence, that is the understatement of the century.

 

A Scandal in Bohemia, 1889

“You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone.”

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.”

The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said he, “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years, at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history.”

“I promise,” said Holmes.

“And I.”

Here, it is not explicitly stated that Watson is veiling the facts, but the mere fact that he writes the story should tell the reader that he is changing enough to make the characters unrecognisable. It has been speculated that the nobleman in question was the Prince of Wales himself. (Would fit his character, by the way…)

 

The Three Students, 1895

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, and it was during this time that the small but instructive adventure which I am about to relate befell us. 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.

Here, Watson masks the truth for more personal reasons, and everybody is fine with it by now. The summarised content of this paragraph is “I essentially invented the following story, enjoy reading about my friend”.

 

The Illustrious Client, 1902

The client’s name is not even mentioned. Just that it is “illustrious”. (Also, the damsel in distress is called Violet, another sign that…something was changed by Watson (see TJLC and 1895)).

 

And in the Christmas Special? Well, in the trailer we have all seen how “reliable” Watson’s writing will turn out to be…

Wonderful.

 

By the way, this works perfectly well on another level too: That Watson, the author, constantly lied is clearly canon. “Our” writers, Mofftisson, have to lie as shamelessly and as much to follow the “original”, canonical attitude to lying – in both cases to veil Johnlock (albeit with similar levels of success).

--------------------------------

Where Holmes and Watson were in 1895 - hiding from the Oscar Wilde trials

It is a truth universally acknowledged that [I should really stop quoting Pride and Prejudice immediately…] Holmes’s and Watson’s leaving London in The Three Students is connected with the Oscar Wilde trials. Yet 3STU is not the only story set in 1895. To conclusively say that they were in reality doing their best to avoid the public eye the other three stories have to be considered too. 31 of the 60 stories are set in Baker Street, which makes the setting of the 1895 stories interesting…

 

The Solitary Cyclist: late April

On referring to my note-book for the year 1895 I find that it was upon Saturday, the 23rd of April, that we first heard of Miss Violet Smith. Her visit was, I remember, extremely unwelcome to Holmes […]

I should be none the worse for a quiet, peaceful day in the country, and I am inclined to run down this afternoon and test one or two theories which I have formed.” […]

A rainy night had been followed by a glorious morning, and the heath-covered country-side with the glowing clumps of flowering gorse seemed all the more beautiful to eyes which were weary of the duns and drabs and slate-greys of London. Holmes and I walked along the broad, sandy road inhaling the fresh morning air, and rejoicing in the music of the birds and the fresh breath of the spring.

That is 1) ridiculously romantic and 2) proof that they were indeed quite keen on not seeing anyone (Holmes initially wanted to reject the client and changed his mind when it became clear that the case was going to be in the country, which then prompted several excursions there).

 

The Three Students: late April/early May

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. 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. Universities were supposed to be more progressive than cities: for example, Oscar Wilde met Robbie Ross at uni. 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: it is basically impossible to do perfectly in a Greek exam. This means this: they had to flee from London because of the public awareness the spectacular trials had caused and went to a friend of Holmes’s. But of course Watson could not say it like that, so he had to invent a virtually new case.

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.

Another suggestive quotation: 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 5^th 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 choose an author, so he chose one who mirrors Holmes.

Moreover, Watson will not identify the town even ten years later: a clear sign that they had to protect somebody – and their hiding place.

 

Black Peter: early July

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 greatartists, 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 reason, he does his best in order not to be available or even findable. Watson even tells us explicitly that and exactly how Holmes is hiding: Holmes was working somewhere under one of the numerous disguises and names with which he concealed his own formidable identity. He had at least five small refuges in different parts of London, in which he was able to change his personality.

But what other 1895 cases does Watson refer to?

In this memorable year ’95, a curious and incongruous succession of cases had engaged his attention, ranging from his famous investigation of the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca (ITALY)–an inquiry which was carried out by him at the express desire of His Holiness the Pope–down to his arrest of Wilson, the notorious canary-trainer, which removed a plague-spot from the East End of London (UNSAVOURY PART OF LONDON, and according to Google Maps SIX MILES from 221b Baker Street). Close on the heels of these two famous cases came the tragedy of Woodman’s Lee, and the very obscure circumstances which surrounded the death of Captain Peter Carey (IN THE COUNTRY). No record of the doings of Mr. Sherlock Holmes would be complete which did not include some account of this very unusual affair.

He is never at home or somewhere reachable…

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: November 

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 – 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.

 

In conclusion, Holmes and Watson do their best not to be where people could find them throughout the year 1895, starting comparatively “small” in The Solitary Cyclist, where the situation is not too dangerous yet and they thus still officially live in Baker Street, to the full-out flight in The Three Students, which is set exactly during the most important trial, over the slightly less conspicuous “I’m out working” of Black Peter, which ends with a long holiday in Norway for Holmes and Watson, to lying low in 221b in order not to avoid suspicion and trying not to appear in public at all. Watson, you are terrible at hiding evidence in your stories…
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Watson is not married to his work. He is married to Holmes.

Which explains why there are ridiculous inconsistencies. Watson’s whole behaviour is rather sweet when it regards Holmes is any way…

 

He mentions three different practices. However, there are only two different periods of time where he could have had them. I personally do not believe in his second marriage (after Holmes’s return) for more than a second, so I will examine the practice Watson says he he acquired after his marriage to Mary Morstan.

These two practices are located in Paddington and Kensington. (If you are interested, the later practice is in Queen Anne Street, but as Watson’s assertion that the practice is very busy completely contradicts his running after Holmes at a moment’s notice, which he does every time he mentions that practice, I will ignore that one.)

So in early spring 1889 Watson bought a rather run-down practice at Paddington and plans to work on it with much zeal to bring it back to success; however, instead of working, he spends most of his time writing up Holmes’s old cases (most of which were published between 1890 and 1892, which means he had started to write them in 1889) and running off with Holmes whenever he sent a telegram (still assuming that what Watson tells us is the truth, which I will repeat I doubt). In early summer, Watson says his practice is successful, a couple of weeks later it is essentially deserted, and then it will continue to be “quiet”, which gives Watson a marvelous excuse to go off with Holmes. When Holmes returned after his three years of hiatus, the practice had inexplicably moved to Kensington, which makes no sense as there would not have been the time to build up a new practice, and also, why would Watson do it, and Watson seems only too happy to get rid of it to return to Holmes.

It is also beautiful how Holmes spent a lot of money just to have Watson return to him, and it is a proof of how intimate they are that Watson accepts it tacitly when he finds out. The whole thing is rather sweet.

So he clearly invented them at random when he needed them. Like his marriages(s).

 

This is a list of every time his practices are mentioned:

The Stock-Broker’s Clerk, spring 1889

Shortly after my marriage I had bought a connection in the Paddington district. Old Mr. Farquhar, from whom I purchased it, had at one time an excellent general practice; but his age, and an affliction of the nature of St. Vitus’s dance from which he suffered, had very much thinned it. […] Thus as my predecessor weakened his practice declined, until when I purchased it from him it had sunk from twelve hundred to little more than three hundred a year. I had confidence, however, in my own youth and energy, and was convinced that in a very few years the concern would be as flourishing as ever.

The Crooked Man, summer 1889

“I have no doubt that Jackson would take my practice.”

Engineer’s Thumb, summer 1889

I had returned to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street rooms […]. My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington Station […]

The Naval Treaty, July 1889

“I was going to say that my practice could get along very well for a day or two, since it is the slackest time in the year.”

Red-Headed League, 1890

“My practice is never very absorbing.”

The Final Problem, 1891

“The practice is quiet,” said I, “and I have an accommodating neighbour.”

The Norwood Builder, 1894

At the time of which I speak, Holmes had been back for some months, and I at his request had sold my practice and returned to share the old quarters in Baker Street. A young doctor, named Verner, had purchased my small Kensington practice, and given with astonishingly little demur the highest price that I ventured to ask–an incident which only explained itself some years later, when I found that Verner was a distant relation of Holmes, and that it was my friend who had really found the money.

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Watson’s wedding vows - for Holmes

In HLV, John tells Mary that “The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future are my privilege.” While it is certainly under debate how truthful John is at that time, nobody can doubt that it sounds like a vow - in fact, much like a wedding vow. Long story short, John is telling Mary that taking care for her is his “privilege”.

Now, does something like this appear in canon?

“You know,” I answered with some emotion, for I have never seen so much of Holmes’s heart before, “that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.” [The Devil’s Foot]

Huh. Another wedding vow. But it is addressed at Holmes this time. And it sounds so much stronger than the “prepared words” John told Mary. 

How can anyone still seriously doubt that they were married to each other?

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Holmes’s and Watson’s pet names

(How Holmes and Watson call each other)

Watson’s for Holmes

“My dear Holmes”: 16 times

“My companion”: over a hundred times (I’m refusing to count any further)

 

Holmes’s for Watson

“My dear Watson”: 94 times 

“My dear boy”: two times (this means exactly what it sounds like)

“My boy”: nine times 

“My dear doctor”: two times

“My Watson”: three times

 

There is an awful lot of possessive pronouns here, if you start to think about it…

Could they appear more married if they tried??