BOOK REVIEW: “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Holmes”

Loren D. Estleman: Titan Books (October 2010, Originally Published in 1979 by Penguin Books)

“As I write these words, it occurs to me that the story is in fact a timely one, in that it demonstrates the evils which a science left to itself may inflict upon an unsuspecting mankind. A culture which allows zeppelins to rain death and destruction upon the cities of men and heavy guns to pound civilisation back into the dust whence it came is a culture which has yet to learn from its mistakes. It is therefore hoped that the chronicle which follows will serve as a lesson to the world that the laws of nature are inviolate, and that the penalty for any attempt to circumvent them is swift and merciless. Assuming, that is, that there will still be a world when the present cataclysm has run its course” (21-2).

When his friend, Sherlock Holmes, strayed beyond the boundaries of reason and logic, Dr. Watson was known to express a measure of incredulity. In The Hound of the Baskervilles, he says to Holmes, “And you, a trained man of science, believe it to be supernatural?” Watson is, of course, referring to Holmes’s view on the origin and true nature of the Baskerville hound, but it is only one of a few moments throughout the canon, in which Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are confronted by a seemingly supernatural or otherwise inexplicable force, only to find that it ultimately has a rational explanation. It is also no new theme in Sherlock Holmes pastiche to bring the Great Detective face-to-face with the inexplicable. The conclusions of such stories can vary from a traditional, rational ending with Holmes’s deductions verified by evidence and fact – to a fantastic, paranormal conclusion that leaves Holmes shaken and unsure. Likewise, it is nothing new to pair Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson with famous contemporary literary and historical figures, either as allies or as adversaries.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Holmes, by Loren D. Estleman is the second of the author’s two Sherlock Holmes pastiches (Sherlock Holmes vs. Dracula: The Adventure of the Sanguinary Count was originally published in 1978), and is, by the author’s own admission, the more cerebral of the two novels. “Bereft of physical evidence – telltale footprints, broken pen-points – Holmes is forced to track the vanished Jekyll’s movements through the books he studied in his quest for the cause and cure of personal evil… The greatest advantage enjoyed by the writer of fiction intended to be read is also the biggest roadblock to adaptation to the screen” (218). And as in the plot of his first pastiche, Estleman does not deviate from the original source material – in this case, the Robert Louis Stevenson novella, the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Instead, he has Sherlock Holmes work his own path, using his own devices – occasionally colliding with the plot of Stevenson’s story – but never altering it. The result is a novel that is equal parts traditional Sherlockian mystery, paranormal variation, and literary and historical convergence.

The crux of Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is that the story manages to present both a logical (if not rational) explanation for what happened to Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde, while at the same time emitting an unnatural quality. At the heart of the mystery that is Dr. Henry Jekyll are science and a chemical formula that involves no demons, no unholy blood rituals, or shortsighted partnerships with the occult. It is science and rational thought that drive the separation of the friendly and sociable Jekyll from his darker, more destructive impulses as represented by Edward Hyde. It is a science that doesn’t hold up under any sort of scrutiny (like many ideas born of fiction), of course, and there is something so deviant about the whole process that it gives off the impression of something supernatural. And the Great Detective’s reaction to seeing the mystery in full reveal, only serves to augment that impression. According to Dr. Watson:

“Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a pale and shaken Sherlock Holmes, and thus received a mirror-view of myself in that moment. Though it was obvious that he had known what was coming, the naked fact of its happening in his presence was quite another thing. His jaw fell open slightly and his eyes were started from their sockets, reactions which in him were the equivalent of a normal man’s fit of hysterics” (196).

Loren Estleman’s pastiche loses none of the conflicting atmosphere of Stevenson’s original  – he features a Great Detective viciously torn between what his deductions have told him must be so, and what his rational mind tells him patently cannot be. After he recovers from the shock of seeing Hyde transform into Jekyll, and the outrageous events that follow, one of Holmes last acts in the drama is to throw Dr. Jekyll’s notes and chemical diagrams onto the fire – ensuring that the truth of what occurred is lost to the world. “And with Jekyll’s notes go the chances of anyone ever repeating his diabolical experiments,” says Holmes (207). Again, the Detective’s logical deductions insist that what has occurred is scientific and could therefore be repeated. But the unnatural horror of what has happened during the evening drives him to ensure that it can never be again.

According to Loren Estleman, he considered Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Holmes to be the better book, in contrast to his earlier Sherlock Holmes vs. Dracula. “It’s a more mature work,” he says, “the Sherlockian rhythms are more faithful to the model, and the title is superior. Sherlock Holmes vs. Dracula still sounds too much like a film directed by Edward Wood, Jr. I only settled on it because I couldn’t think of a better way to get the names of both hot-button characters up front” (221). Estleman’s pastiche also features a Sherlock Holmes in a disguise that completely deceives Dr. Watson (yet again), a Dr. Watson who is largely left out of his friend’s machinations and yet still worries endlessly for his well-being, and many other more traditional and expected Sherlockian elements, rather than just a moderately unhinged doctor who has managed to physically separate the aspects of his personality. But like any good pastiche, Estleman’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Holmes harkens back to the canon, and in particular “The Adventure of the Speckled Band,” in which Sherlock Holmes reminds his reader: “Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge."

oOo

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“The Meaning of This Extraordinary Performance” (COPP): Granada Television’s “The Second Stain”

"’Now, Watson, now!’ cried Holmes with frenzied eagerness. All the demoniacal force of the man masked behind that listless manner burst out in a paroxysm of energy. He tore the drugget from the floor, and in an instant was down on his hands and knees clawing at each of the squares of wood beneath it. One turned sideways as he dug his nails into the edge of it. It hinged back like the lid of a box. A small black cavity opened beneath it. Holmes plunged his eager hand into it and drew it out with a bitter snarl of anger and disappointment. It was empty.”

Readers of Sherlock Holmes want nothing more than to see our favorite scenes come to life – vibrantly, often in full color, and on the biggest television or cinema screen we can find. It's not that our own imaginations are somehow lacking – I imagine most folks of any literary bent are all possessed of extremely vivid and lively imaginations – but there is something intrinsically satisfying in being able to say (usually to yourself, a confused pet, or perhaps some longsuffering family member who is idly perusing pamphlets for mental wellness centers), "Yes. Yes, that is precisely how I imagined it." And the Granada television series starring Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes was remarkably adept at capturing that feeling of preciseness, of the satisfaction of exactness. The Baker Street sitting room comes to life with impeccable detail, and the Great Detective’s “certain quiet primness of dress” becomes available for minute examination (MUSG).

But all of these elements are lost without a performance, which the Granada series always delivers in spades. Each episode tried to capture of some each canon story’s particularly unique moments, the ones both implicitly and explicitly stated. For example, the demonstration of Mr. Henry Baker’s cranial capacity via his lost hat from “The Blue Carbuncle,” is charmingly rendered, and scenes from “The Red-Headed League” often seem like a Sidney Paget illustration come to life. Granada’s 1986 adaptation of “The Second Stain” is filled with such instances; ones which readers of Sherlock Holmes stories are drawn to from the original source material, and ones that they might not have even known that they wanted to see rendered.

Dr. Watson informs his readers that Sherlock Holmes was capable of no small amount of physical energy or exertion, when the occasion served his purposes. In those instances, the Doctor describes his friend as “absolutely untiring and indefatigable” (YELL), and it often seemed as if Jeremy Brett was bound and determined to capture that indefatigable energy in every episode, until his own illness and physical limitations prevented him from doing so. This energy is captured best in Granada’s version of SECO as Brett’s Great Detective carelessly tosses Eduardo Lucas’s eponymous stained carpet aside, and throws himself hard upon the ground. He then begins to crawl relentlessly across the floor, clawing viciously at each wooden tile – his determination so visible and obviously single-minded that the viewer almost fears for Dr. Watson’s well-being if he weren’t tucked away by a window keeping watch. But the capstone of the scene comes as Holmes finds the hidden compartment beneath floor, and opens it – only to find it empty. Brett’s “bitter snarl of anger and disappointment” is a total, full-bodied effort, sounding so much like an enraged bull that the viewer half-expects steam to rise from his nostrils. But Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s original scene (as referenced at the beginning of this post) is captured entirely, down to the last detail.

(Photo via bookishadventures.tumblr.com)

The episode also features a variety of more subtle efforts, which are no less important to achieving the overall effect of exactness. For example, the understated play of expression on Brett’s face as Inspector Lestrade (Colin Jeavons) relays the mystery of the stained carpet are more telling than any overt display of realization. The audience does not have to be told that the small quirk of his mouth means that Holmes has deduced the presence of a hidden compartment – they simply know. Furthermore, the audience likewise knows that, as Holmes lights his pipe and carelessly tosses his match, the Detective’s monologue about the possible locations of the missing paper will lead to more than just a rather smug statement about the Detective’s own abilities: “Should I bring this to a successful conclusion, it will certainly represent the crowning glory of my career!” It also almost leads to a small fire in the Baker Street sitting room, as Holmes’s narrow focus and disregard to common concerns means that his neglected match has again caught light and a pile of discarded newspapers is aflame.

Dr. Watson also has a role in envisioning some of the canon’s iconic moments. As the Doctor comments on Lady Trelawney Hope’s beauty and bearing, Holmes famously responds, “The fair sex is your department, Watson.” But he accompanies this statement with an oddly-pitched, contemplative noise and a dismissive hand gesture that fully enforces how trivial the Detective finds his friend’s “department.” Holmes is not concerned with the outward trifles of Lady Trelawney Hope’s appearance – he is more concerned with what she really wants. Of course, the Detective’s seeming flippancy towards his friend is later offset as the two men stand together companionably, reading the newspaper article about the murder of Eduardo Lucas and bantering about the valet who was out for the evening (“They always are!”) and the elderly housekeeper who heard nothing (“They never do!”). This particular scene is not present in the canon as Granada presents it, but is instead an implicit moment, which the production brought to the surface.

It’s no great revelation to say that the Granada adaptations of the Sherlock Holmes stories were extraordinary, or even to say that they were extraordinary for their minute and exacting attention to detail. But those details are worth mentioning, because there is something uncommon in seeing a favorite scene come to life exactly as it was imagined, or in the inclusion of a moment previously given only a passing reference, but which breathes new life into that which is already offered. The Granada production and its cast and crew often managed to achieve an authenticity which often seemed unachievable, and their 1986 adaptation of “The Second Stain,” remains a hallmark of those efforts.

oOo

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Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “Murder by Decree” (1979)

"In this script John Hopkins has brought out a lot of unforeseen passion in Holmes. 'Murder by Decree' gives Holmes the opportunity to be human. It's easy to play him as supercilious and rather snobbish but that's not what I intend to do. I'm trying very hard not to be influenced by other actors' performances. I'm trying to be myself. I think I can trust myself to look like him. I had my hair streaked to make him warmer, more human. In the original Sidney Paget drawings in the 'Strand Magazine,' Holmes had slicked down hair, which looked very sinister." (Christopher Plummer)

If you want to pit the Great Detective against Jack the Ripper, then you really don’t have to look very far. For starters, there is a list of pastiches that often seems about a mile long, featuring works of varying degrees of quality and readability. There is even a recent video game that pulls Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (and the player who commands them) into a series of complex and varied puzzles and adventures.  And the 1979 film, Murder by Decree, is one of several attempts to bring the conflict between Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper to the screen, and have the Great Detective endeavor to solve one of history’s most notorious, mysterious, and apparently unsolvable crimes. 
 

Murder by Decree features Christopher Plummer (notably a cousin of Nigel Bruce) as Sherlock Holmes, and James Mason as Dr. Watson. The film opens with Holmes and Watson at the Royal Opera House, waiting for the performance to begin, which has been delayed as they anticipate the arrival of the Prince of Wales. The Prince finally arrives, only to be met by loud and violent jeers from the crowd. Appalled, Watson urges the crowd to shout, “God save His Royal Highness,” instead – eventually winning the audience over. Holmes, looking proud and pleased with his companion, says, “Well done, old fellow. You have saved the day.” Indeed, Murder by Decree benefits a lot from the warmth and depth of affection with which Plummer and Mason chose to portray their roles. As screenwriter John Hopkins said,

There is that British tradition of male friendship which Billy Wilder made such happy fun of in The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes… But I feel that the relationship was much deeper than that. I wanted to go through the traditional reserve of Holmes. It’s only an image; it’s not the real thing… So when I started work on Murder by Decree, the relationship between the two men appealed to me deeply. I wanted to make my interpretation both passionate and caring” (Davies 109).

Indeed, in taking on the role of Dr. Watson, James Mason had a very clear idea of how he wanted to approach it:

“I see Watson as someone, who in the army, would have passed for an intelligent man. In civilian life, he would be accepted as a good sort as well as an indomitable friend. He was not a buffoon. Holmes on the other hand was rather weird. Watson needed sterling qualities to be with him. Holmes’s daily behavioral pattern was that of a rather strange individual…” (108).

Mason’s version of Dr. Watson succeeds at conveying the Doctor’s more sterling qualities that he mentions, but he also comes across as a likewise rather strange individual, with odd notions about personal and public property, which will be mentioned later. However, James Mason’s portrayal of Dr. Watson suffers slightly from the mere fact of his being James Mason. His distinctive voice somewhat prevents the audience from becoming fully immersed in his take on Watson – each word spoken reminding the viewer of the iconic personage in the role. In addition, Mason is nearly two decades older than Plummer, and so occasionally his expressions come across as more paternal than companionable, but they are always affectionate. For example, Holmes demonstrates to Watson the concealed weapon that he has devised – lead weights in the ends of his scarf – by tossing it about the room and breaking nearly every fragile thing in sight. Watson merely sighs, reveals that he is familiar with the device, and says nothing as Holmes leaves the room, dragging his scarf behind him, broken glass and porcelain continuing to tinkle humorously. The film is filled with similarly charming scenes – the movie even ending with Holmes assuring Watson that the Doctor is what reminds him that there is decency left in the world that has so sorely tried him over the last 120 minutes.

Likewise, Plummer’s version of the Great Detective can do nothing but laugh boisterously as he retrieves Dr. Watson from a jail cell after a misunderstanding with the police, and makes a rather cheeky comment to the Doctor about the possibility of upset husbands paying a visit to Baker Street of an evening. He even helps Watson corner the last pea on his dinner plate by squishing it with his fork – much to Watson’s consternation: “Yes, but squashing a fellow’s pea!” According to David Stuart Davies in Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen, “This amusing, inconsequential exchange underlines with brilliant economy both the comfortable friendship and the different natures of the two men” (109).

But Plummer’s version of Sherlock Holmes is also much more sensitive, much more emotive than which most fans are familiar. His emotions are much closer to the surface. Plummer’s Holmes is gentle with women, concerned foremost with Dr. Watson’s well-being, and feels deeps and unrelenting guilt over what he perceives to be his own failings. Perhaps most surprising, the Detective sheds passionate, angry tears over the unjust treatment of a young woman in one scene, and in another, cringes at the sight of Buckingham Palace as he considers the depth of corruption that he has experienced over the course of the case. This Sherlock Holmes is no subtly tortured spirit, resolutely confining his own demons in a shadowed corner of his “brain attic.” By contrast, Plummer’s version of the Great Detective is practically ablaze with emotion, out of control, and unable to contain himself.

In terms of plot, those familiar with Alan Moore’s From Hell (or its theatrical adaptation), or really any of the more popular Jack the Ripper theories will find no surprises here. Those looking for a fresh Ripper theory will probably walk away disappointed. But as with most things concerning the Great Detective, this film succeeds largely in part due to the depiction of Holmes’s methods as he rushes towards solution, how he interacts with Dr. Watson, and of course, how all these elements add up to Sherlock Holmes’s own sort of brilliant madness.

oOo

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Currently on Twitter...

As part of an ongoing project on my Twitter feed, I'm delivering stories from the Sherlock Holmes canon in tiny installments of 140 characters or less. I recently finished up "The Adventure of the Copper Beeches," and I wonder if you agreed with Sherlock Holmes when he said: "I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of mine apply for."

The current story is "The Reigate Puzzle" (or "The Reigate Squires," as you may be accustomed to calling it). The story opens with Dr. Watson arriving at Sherlock Holmes's side "...at a time when Europe was ringing with his name and when his room was literally ankle-deep with congratulatory telegrams I found him a prey to the blackest depression." It also contains a rather memorable scene involving a dish of oranges, a carafe of water, and Watson's understanding disposition.

Check out my Twitter feed for a daily installment, although I am usually inspired to post more than once a day.  And don't forget you can read through the original canon online.

BOOK REVIEW: “Watson’s Afghan Adventure”

Kieran McMullen; Publisher: MX Publishing (January 2011)

“’…by the way,’ [Sturt] said looking around, ‘don’t flinch in front of the men.  Bad form, old boy, gets them concerned’” (62).

Continuing on the theme of character history and backstory, reading Kieran McMullen’s Watson’s Afghan Adventure made me realize how important it is to give consideration to Dr. Watson’s early life.  It isn’t that readers don’t care about the Doctor’s early life—his adventures and experiences before he took up residence at Baker Street—it’s more that readers already think that they know so much about him.  Unlike Sherlock Holmes, who only takes up the pen and speaks to the reader directly twice throughout the canon (BLAN, LION), Watson, on the other hand, voices fifty-six stories (with LAST and MAZA being written from an omniscient third-person perspective).  Sometimes, it seems as if we, as readers, are in constant conversation with Dr. Watson, and that he has revealed much more about himself than he truly has.  It might even be fair to say that readers know much more about Sherlock Holmes’s early life than we do about Dr. Watson’s, because the Doctor took the time to ask questions and wheedle information out of his friend.  And if Holmes ever did the same, then it never quite made it into print.

But McMullen’s novel goes a long way towards remedying that deficiency.  Watson’s Afghan Adventure opens with a package being delivered to Baker Street by Watson’s old orderly, Murray, who is on his way to a new life with his family in America.  Inside the package, Watson finds: “…one glass phial containing two bullets, a ruby of approximately 5 carats and a medal with the likeness of St. Peters Basilica on the reverse with the date of 1880 and on the obverse a likeness of Pope Gregory XVI and subscribed ‘John H. Watson’” (8).  These items are remarkable enough, but when Holmes proclaims: “I am of the opinion that these two bullets make my friend out to be a liar,” the reader realizes that Dr. Watson is not just a teller of tales, but perhaps a keeper of secrets as well (8).  That Dr. Watson may have had a rich inner life and a complex history before he ever met his equally enigmatic friend.

Watson provides a brief sketch of his early life, but focuses primarily on his early days as both a doctor and a soldier.  The Doctor acquires some very early companions—Lieutenants Sutter Sturt and Arthur McMullen—and it is these friendships that ultimately frame and map the course he will take during his military career.  When Sturt makes a surprisingly revelation—a map that supposedly leads to a long-lost treasure—Dr. Watson finds himself drawn into a centuries-old treasure hunt.  The journey will take him from London to India to Afghanistan and back again.  It is not long before Dr. Watson experiences the awfulness and injustice of battle, along with the general unfairness of the life and circumstances.  McMullen’s battle scenes are deliciously detailed, filled with military strategy and impeccable historical knowledge.  And while those details serve to provide context and authenticity to the story, they might also prove a bit dense for those unfamiliar or uninterested in such terminology or techniques.

The cast of characters that moves in and out of Watson’s life is varied and rich, and McMullen manages to successfully flush out each and every one, even the most transient ones.  It slowly becomes clear why Watson would happily find companionship in a man like Sherlock Holmes—a man who was not a predictable figure, necessarily, but was at least somewhat constant.  The reader even gets a little taste of the “experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents” that Watson boasts of in The Sign of Four.  Slowly but surely, the Dr. John Watson of the canon comes into view, with each new acquaintance, and each new experience: “…the result of these actions would lead me to a wonderful place in the end.  It would lead me to Baker Street” (145).

Because behind the scenes, McMullen is telling the story of how John Watson became.  It is difficult for some readers to imagine that there was once a Dr. Watson who flinched in the face of gunfire, that there was once a time in his life when danger and fear were abnormalities, instead of de rigueur.  It’s difficult to picture a Dr. Watson who is unsure of himself around weapons, and who hesitates—if only briefly—in the face of a crisis.  A Dr. Watson who had a family—immediate, biological relations instead of just an eccentric flatmate and a put-upon housekeeper.  But McMullen does an admirable job of constructing a Dr. Watson that readers recognize.  He lays the foundation for the man readers know from “The Empty House,” who is able to take on Colonel Sebastian Moran when the Great Detective finds himself incapacitated: “…I struck him on the head with the butt of my revolver, and he dropped again upon the floor.  I fell upon him, and as I held him my comrade blew a shrill call upon a whistle.”

In Watson’s Afghan Adventure, Kieran McMullen reminds readers that we may not know Dr. Watson as well as we think we do, and also why it would behoove us to get to know him better.  McMullen’s John Watson is not just a teller of tales, and a keeper of secrets, but a man with a complex and layered inner life—before he ever set foot in Baker Street.

Kieran McMullen’s second novel, Sherlock Holmes and the Irish Rebels, is now available from MX Publishing.  Order the book here.

oOo

Watson’s Afghan Adventure, by Kieran McMullen is available in paperback from MX Publishing, and Amazon.  It is also available for the Kindle.  You can also follow the author on Twitter and on Facebook.  His blog is available here.

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Some Thoughts on Character: Victor Trevor

“You never heard me talk of Victor Trevor?  He was the only friend I made during the two years I was at college.  I was never a very sociable fellow, Watson, always rather fond of moping in my rooms and working out my own little methods of thought, so that I never mixed much with the men of my year.  Bar fencing and boxing I had few athletic tastes, and then my line of study was quite distinct from that of the other fellows, so that we had no points of contact at all.  Trevor was the only man I knew, and that only through the accident of his bull terrier freezing on to my ankle one morning as I went down to chapel.  It was a prosaic way of forming a friendship, but it was effective.” (“The ‘Gloria Scott’”)

In “The Five Orange Pips,” Dr. Watson inquires as to who could be calling at Baker Street on such an inclement evening.  He suggests that their late-night visitor might be a friend of the Great Detective, who dismisses the possibility immediately: “Except yourself I have none… I do not encourage visitors.”  It is not until Sherlock Holmes shares the story of “The ‘Gloria Scott’,” that the reader learns that this declaration is not precisely true.  In GLOR, found in The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, Holmes reveals the existence of Victor Trevor, one of only three people in the canon that the Detective explicitly refers to as his friend (Klinger, The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes, 501).  The two others are Dr. Watson, naturally, and perhaps more surprisingly – Inspector Lestrade, whom Holmes amiably refers to periodically throughout the canon as “friend Lestrade” (NOBL, CARD, EMPT, NORW, 3GAR).

The existence of Victor Trevor lends weight to Sherlock Holmes’s existence, gives shape to the person that Holmes was before he ever arrived at Baker Street.  It sometimes seems that Dr. Watson’s stories tell the reader so little about the Great Detective’s early life that it is easy to imagine that the man simply sprang into existence, fully formed like Athena from Zeus’s forehead, and was waiting for Watson to appear in that laboratory in St. Bart’s.  But the presence of a character like Victor Trevor reminds the reader that there was a Sherlock Holmes before there ever was a Dr. Watson, that he had an early life and a history that remain tantalizingly just out of our grasp.  Furthermore, the existence of Victor Trevor demonstrates that there was once a time when the Great Detective was not as the reader knows him, that there was a time when he barely existed at all.

As Sherlock Holmes points out, his first meeting with Victor Trevor was rather inauspicious, and in fact, Holmes’s encounter with Trevor’s dog left him incapacitated for ten days, which indicates a somewhat serious injury.  It’s a wonder that Holmes – a man who loathed extended periods of inactivity – would even tolerate Trevor’s presence afterwards.  However, there is something about Victor Trevor to which Holmes responds: “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.”

It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that there is a bit of Victor Trevor in Dr. Watson.  Upon returning from Afghanistan, Dr. Watson was still ill, and could not honestly be classified as either “hearty” or “full-blooded,” but Holmes immediately identifies him as a soldier and so has the potential to be both those things again.  Furthermore, as a medical man, Watson would have likely shared at least some of Holmes’s love of chemistry (even before the two ever shared a love of adventure), which the Doctor demonstrates in the way he avidly observes his friend’s chemical experiments: “His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments” (STUD).  Finally, Dr. Watson, like Victor Trevor before him, was entirely alone: “I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air – or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be” (STUD).

In fact, to take the analysis a step farther, the same characteristics could even be said to be true of Inspector Lestrade – Holmes’s other canonical friend.  As a policeman, Lestrade would most likely have been “hearty” and “full-blooded,” and he certainly demonstrates these features as he chases after Holmes on many an occasion.  The Detective and Lestrade certainly do not share many common interests, but they most certainly share a love of interesting crime, a desire to see mysteries solved, and justice brought to the guilty parties.  As for being isolated and friendless, not much is known about Inspector Lestrade’s personal life (the reader cannot even be sure of his first name), and due to the competitive natures of his colleagues at Scotland Yard, it might be fair to say that Lestrade found few allies amongst his professional associates.

Amongst his other contributions, Victor Trevor is most famously responsible for setting Sherlock Holmes on the path to becoming the Great Detective.  Trevor invites Holmes to spend a month’s holiday with himself and his father at their home in Donnithorpe, where the young Trevor explains to his father about his new friend’s powers of observation.  The elder Trevor asks Holmes for a demonstration, and is totally unsettled by the result: “I don’t know how you manage this, Mr. Holmes, but it seems to me that all the detectives of fact and of fancy would be children in your hands.  That’s your line of life, sir, and you may take the word of a man who has seen something of the world.”

In A Study in Scarlet, Holmes informs Watson that he is the world’s only unofficial consulting detective, and that he has created his own profession.  But the idea for that profession must have stemmed from somewhere, someone must have planted the seed, and it appears that the readers can thank Victor Trevor for that.  It is not to say that Sherlock Holmes would not have found his way to his chosen vocation without Victor Trevor, but some gratitude must be extended to Victor Trevor and his father, for who knows how long we would have had to wait had it not been for their suggestion.  As Holmes tells Watson, “And that recommendation, with the exaggerated estimate of my ability with which he prefaced it, was, if you will believe me, Watson, the very first thing which ever made me feel that a profession might be made out of what had up to that time been the merest hobby.”

Victor Trevor never really recovers from the tragedy that befell his father, and at the end of GLOR, the reader learns that Trevor is working a tea plantation in India.  Holmes says that he thinks that he is doing well, but it appears that he has lost track of his old friend.  Trevor occasionally makes appearances in various pastiches, recently turning up in the graphic novel, Sherlock Holmes: Year One, where the young Holmes is on a desperate errand to prevent his friend from self-destructing – amongst other plot points.  While the canonical Victor Trevor only appears in the one story, he provides a blueprint for Dr. Watson, and perhaps, in a way, for Inspector Lestrade.  By showing Sherlock Holmes the type of man that the Detective could relate to, he prevented Holmes from being entirely alone.  It might be going too far to say that without Victor Trevor there would have been no Dr. Watson, but he certainly laid the path, and provided precedent and context, for a solitary man to have need of a companion, after all.

oOo

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“But no heroes, returning from a forlorn hope…” (VALL): The Nature of Heroism in the Sherlock Holmes Canon

“It is simple enough as you explain it,” I said, smiling. “You remind me of Edgar Allan Poe's Dupin.  I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of stories” (A Study in Scarlet, Chapter Two).

Sherlock Holmes: “Don't make people into heroes, John.  Heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them.” (SHERLOCK, “The Great Game,” 2010)

In his recent graphic novel, Moriarty: The Dark Chamber, writer Daniel Corey re-envisions the world of Sherlock Holmes – a world in which, for all outward appearances, Professor Moriarty had defeated the Great Detective at Reichenbach Falls.  The world of The Dark Chamber is one in which Sherlock Holmes has been dead for over two decades, and Moriarty is living in relative seclusion, seemingly unable to match the excitement of the days when he clashed with his greatest adversary.  However, this Moriarty is no gloating victor – looming malevolently from the center of his criminal spider’s web, and mocking those who remain of Holmes’s confederates.  And so, I was rather surprised to find there were some who took issue with the graphic novel, and with the idea of Professor Moriarty as a “heroic figure.”  You see, I didn’t find Corey’s Moriarty heroic at all, instead I found him rather sad and tired, even if the artwork rendered him less reptilian than I had come to expect from the Napoleon of Crime.

But it got me thinking about the heroes of the Sherlock Holmes canon, and who they really are.  Beginning at the beginning, there’s the Great Detective himself, of course, and as the original definition of “hero” typically only applied to the demigods of Greek myth, than this use of the term might be more appropriate than it even initially appears to be.  After all, Steven Moffat, creator of the television show, SHERLOCK, said: “…Sherlock Holmes is a man who aspires to be a god.”  Certainly, throughout the course of the stories, Sherlock Holmes sometimes acts in ways that could be classified as less-than-heroic, if not flat-out illegal.  He disguised himself as a member of the clergy, participated in numerous instances of breaking and entering, and even contrived an engagement to a housemaid in order to obtain information – just to name a few.  Taken out of context, any one of those acts would be enough to make a lesser fictional character seem less than honorable, less than likeable.  But readers continue to stand behind Sherlock Holmes because he always obeys the spirit of the law, if not the letter of it.  As the Detective says in “The Adventure of the Three Gables,” “I am not the law, but I represent justice so far as my feeble powers go.”

And of course, we can’t forget Dr. Watson, who more than aptly fulfills the later “heroic” definitions of self-sacrifice, martial courage, and moral excellence.  Watson is a soldier, injured in the service of his country, and so it’s more than fair to say that his sense of self-sacrifice is beyond reproach.  Moreover, throughout the canon, Watson repeatedly demonstrates a uniquely honed sense of morality and honor.  Occasionally, he requires a little convincing, and even prodding to get onboard with some of the Detective’s schemes.  In “The Bruce-Partington Plans,” Watson meets Holmes at Goldini’s Restaurant, having brought along the parcel of housebreaking tools that Holmes requested.  After being informed of the plan, and a few moments of trying to convince Holmes to use somewhat more legal channels, Watson still expresses his misgivings: “I don’t like it, Holmes.”

Holmes almost seems taken aback by his friend’s reticence and he lobbies hard for Watson’s presence: “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.”  Of course, the Doctor would never willingly leave his friend to walk into danger alone, and it is this courage that prevents Watson’s heroic characteristics from crossing the line into boring and two-dimensional.  He is a man that is familiar with danger and ambiguous legalities, even wielding a chair as a weapon in “Charles Augustus Milverton.”  But his heroism is rooted in his ability to see where the boundaries are, and decide for himself when he can and should cross them. 


“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.
(via bookishadventures.tumblr.com)

And finally, what of Professor Moriarty?  Could it really be said that there is even anything, remotely heroic about the Napoleon of Crime?  I certainly would not go so far as to say that Sherlock Holmes should have looked to Moriarty in a pinch, but the argument could made that there is something rather protective about the man, which is certainly part and parcel with being a heroic figure.  In “The Norwood Builder,” the Detective says, “From the point of view of the criminal expert, London has become a singularly uninteresting city since the death of the late lamented Professor Moriarty.”  The Professor’s mere existence certainly protected Sherlock Holmes from his own sense of boredom, and his relentless and sometimes dangerous pursuit of more and more interesting work.  Furthermore, Moriarty had a very clear sense of his own boundaries, of what was his, and how to protect it.  As the Professor tells Sherlock Holmes in “The Final Problem”:

“You crossed my path on the fourth of January.  On the twenty-third you incommoded me; by the middle of February I was seriously inconvenienced by you; at the end of March I was absolutely hampered in my plans; and now, at the close of April, I find myself placed in such a position through your continual persecution that I am in positive danger of losing my liberty.  The situation is becoming an impossible one.”

Like Dr. Watson, Professor Moriarty has a clearly defined set of boundaries and limitations that he works very hard to protect.  They might not be respectable boundaries, or even legal ones, but they are set nonetheless and all his efforts are directed towards them.  Such a single-minded focus could possibly be viewed as heroic.  Most readers view Sherlock Holmes’s single-mindedness in much that fashion.

In the short story, “Be Good or Begone,” by Stan Trybulski, Sherlock Holmes has an innocent man savagely beaten by a corrupt police inspector simply because, “…I didn’t like his face.”  Now, Trybulski’s Sherlock Holmes contains more than a few elements of a golden age detective, and often seems less like the Victorian gentleman with which most readers are familiar.  Indeed, in the story, Holmes engages in a litany of strange behavior, from heroin use to vegetarianism, but none of it strikes a discordant note quite like the unprovoked beating of the innocent man.  If perfectly spotless behavior and a constant respect for the confines of the law are what truly define a hero, then Sherlock Holmes wasn’t one.  But instead, readers know what they can expect from Sherlock Holmes – and Dr. Watson and Professor Moriarty, for that matter.  We know what lines they will and will not cross.  We know where they stand, and that’s why we feel that we can stand beside them.

oOo

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