#Holmes is lucky Watson is so patient and forgiving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

v-thinks-on · 5 years

Text

A Scandal on Baker Street - Day 4

First | Previous | Next

We left Baker Street just before noon the next day and arrived at the Diogenes Club with a few minutes to spare. Before long Mr. Holmes the elder joined us in the Stranger’s Room. An elaborate luncheon was brought in shortly after.

Irene wasted little time on the food, instead focusing on our host. “You said you had more to tell us, something to clear your brother's name."

Mr. Holmes chuckled. “You must be full of questions,” he said as though he was humoring us. “Ask away.”

“You suggested we contact Mr. Victor Trevor. Is there anything else you can tell us of your brother’s history?” Irene asked.

“There is little more to say,” Mr. Holmes said. He took his time before continuing. “As you have no doubt heard from many others before me, he is little more sociable than I am. The one exception is his tendency to make a single close connection, but I have only known of Mr. Trevor and Dr. Watson.”

“What of relations with women?” Irene pressed.

“Absent, as are mine.” He gave her a pointed look, as though challenging her to make something of it.

“Is it then true that he scorns the softer passions?” she asked.

“That appears to be Dr. Watson’s conclusion,” he answered noncommittally.

Irene changed track. “What do you make of Dr. Watson?”

“He is a rather ordinary fellow,” Mr. Holmes said. “My brother would not say so, but it is the truth. He is of average intelligence, but well educated and efficient under pressure - his military training still serves him well. He is not particularly patient, as many would suggest, he merely avoids conflict on principle and instead allows discontentment to build up until he can no longer bring himself to contain it.”

“What does your brother see in him?” Irene asked.

“A rare and valued friend,” Mr. Holmes answered simply.

“But why Dr. Watson?” she insisted.

“Perhaps it is merely because he is there. He does see the best in my brother, as few others do - maybe it is something for Sherlock to aspire to.”

“And what of Mr. Trevor?” Irene asked.

“I never met the man and my brother prefers not to speak of him after they parted under such unfortunate circumstances. All I have gathered is that he was an energetic, passionate man, who lent Sherlock some of his sense of humor, and that they were both largely friendless aside from the other.”

After a moment’s pause, Mr. Holmes asked, “Do you have any further questions?”

Irene considered for a minute or two before finally giving a reluctant shake of her head.

“It is just as well,” Mr. Holmes said with a small smile. “There is little more I have to say. I imagine you may have better luck speaking with Dr. Watson himself. Now,” he turned to his true aim with relish, “What do you make of your employer?”

Irene finally took a bite of food. When she was done, she answered, “He does well enough for himself, but as he says it, he is but an intermediary, hired to put his considerable resources to work solving his client’s little puzzle.”

“What of his client, then?” Mr. Holmes corrected himself, sounding a tad impatient.

Irene took another bite and then said, “He is not interested in Mrs. Watson, nor was our employer called upon by the woman herself. We have also confirmed that his client is not a man of the Yard.”

Mr. Holmes frowned. “What are your employer’s ‘considerable resources?’”

“He claims a wide net of acquaintances from all walks of life who he can call upon at will,” Irene said.

“And what is his own walk of life?” Mr. Holmes asked.

“Academic,” Irene answered.

Mr. Holmes nodded as though that was what he had expected. “I would advise you look a little deeper into your enigmatic employer, though I would tread carefully.”

With that, we were dismissed.

That evening we dined with the Watsons in the guise of Mr. and Mrs. Drebber. Dr. and Mrs. Watson lived in a pleasant little house that also served as the doctor’s practice. A clumsy young maid welcomed us inside, took my coat, and led us into the sitting room where Mrs. Watson was waiting. The lady of the house hastily put her embroidery aside as we entered and greeted us warmly.

“John is still out tending to a patient,” she explained, “But he should be home soon, and then dinner will be served.”

In the meantime, we joined Mrs. Watson in the sitting room.

“Thank you so very much for inviting us,” Irene exclaimed, back in the character of Victoria Drebber. It seemed as though she could not keep still from all the excitement.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Watson said.

“How has Dr. Watson been?” Victoria asked.

“He keeps himself busy,” Mrs. Watson answered with an unhappy undercurrent. Her voice cleared as she asked, “And how have you been? Are you enjoying being back in London?”

“Very much so! I had nearly forgotten how lovely the gardens are. We have Central Park in New York, but it’s just not the same.”

Mrs. Watson smiled a little at that. “There’s one right outside our door and we don’t go nearly often enough.”

“You really should,” Victoria said.

I was content to leave the ladies to their conversation. Dr. Watson soon arrived, out of breath and worn from a day’s work.

“My apologies,” he said as he stepped into the sitting room. “Please forgive me another moment and then I will be ready to join you for dinner. Certainly do not delay on my account.”

So, we went to the dining room. We were nearly finished with the first course when Dr. Watson joined us at the table having changed and freshened up.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Victoria exclaimed.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He shook my hand and greeted Victoria with a nod. “I could have sworn I recognized you from somewhere, Mrs. Drebber. When did you leave for America?”

Victoria paused a moment in thought. “Has it been three years already?”

“I would say so,” I answered, attempting with difficulty to hide a smile. I would have hoped Irene remembered how long we had been married.

Dr. Watson seemed to consider a moment before shaking the thought away. “How has your time in London been?”

“It’s been wonderful!” Victoria said. “It’s been a treat being back. I have forgotten how much I missed lovely old London. Mrs. Hudson has been wonderful, and it was very kind of you to invite us for dinner!”

“Not at all,” Dr. Watson waved it off.

“I adored your accounts of your adventures with Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It is truly an honor to meet you in person,” Victoria continued eagerly.

“I am flattered to meet such an admirer,” Dr. Watson said. “But I am merely the biographer, it is Holmes who makes all of his incredible deductions and solves all the cases.” He seemed to glow as he spoke about his former flatmate.

“What was it like working with Mr. Holmes?” Victoria asked.

“He is truly incredible,” Dr. Watson answered. “A brilliant man. I was very lucky to watch his work and be privy to his thoughts - to the extent that he gave them to me. I have never met his equal.”

As her husband spoke, I watched Mrs. Watson’s face fall. When she remembered to smile, it was forced.

“What of Miss Irene Adler?” Victoria put in with perfect innocence. “She bested Mr. Holmes, didn’t she? Do you think he’s seen her since?”

Watson frowned a little. “I don’t believe so, no.”

Victoria’s face fell. “That’s so sad.”

“I’m afraid my words have caused more speculation than they have quelled.” Dr. Watson explained firmly, “I meant what I wrote in the introduction to ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’; Miss Adler was no more than a curiosity to him, remarkable only in her abilities - especially uncommon as they are in a woman. He has had no personal interest in women for as long as I have known him. He finds romance as relevant to himself as the solar system, and harmful to his intellectual capabilities besides.” I could not tell if I had detected or imagined a hint of bitterness in the doctor’s tone.

After dinner, I joined Dr. Watson in his study while Irene stayed with Mrs. Watson in the sitting room. We spoke of business for a little while, but a doctor and a lawyer only have so much in common, and so we easily turned back to the topic of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Dr. Watson had just finished recounting one of his unpublished adventures with Mr. Holmes when he remarked with a wistful air, “He really is brilliant. I love Mary more than anything, but it’s easy to miss the thrill of adventure when one is safe and comfortable at home.”

“Mr. Holmes is a rather eccentric man, isn’t he?” I asked as idly as I could.

Dr. Watson narrowed his eyes at first and I was about to backpedal, but he seemed to accept my awkward question. “He was madness to live with, if that’s what you mean to ask. Perhaps it was on account of his great intelligence, but he was very unusual in his habits and had difficulty taking the rest of us seriously.”

I let out a laugh before I could stop myself. Dr. Watson looked at me in surprise and I hastily explained, “My dear Victoria can be a little sharper than she seems, in some ways at least. Somehow she never ceases to be amazed that what comes easily to her does not come so easily to the rest of us.”

Dr. Watson chuckled at that. “Holmes is the same. He was always incredulous about all the things I failed to deduce,” he said with fond exasperation.

“You have been seeing less of him of late?” I asked.

Dr. Watson nodded sadly. “Last I have heard, he is in Paris, but he could be halfway around the world and I wouldn’t know it. I can only hope he doesn’t run into something he can’t handle, but in his line of work…” he trailed off.

I nodded along. Even though I had followed Irene back to London, there was so little I could actually do if she ran into trouble, and the most serious parts of the investigation she undertook alone. “When you’re so much cleverer than everyone else around you, it is easy to forget that you are not invincible,” I remarked.

“And if someone else dares show concern or suggest that he is not invincible...” Dr. Watson trailed off, letting his tone imply how Mr. Holmes might respond. “At least Mrs. Drebber does not seem too proud.”

Irene has her pride, of course, but I knew better than to say anything to that effect. Instead, I said as naturally as I could, “It is a shame Mr. Holmes has no wife to look out for him.”

Dr. Watson seemed taken aback for an instant, and then he gave a dark chuckle. “Sometimes I wish he did, but it is probably for the best that he has no woman to torment. He can be charming enough when he wishes to be, but he would drive a woman to madness with his moods. I don’t know how Mrs. Hudson stands him as a tenant.”

We talked a little while longer, and then we rejoined the ladies in the parlor. As Irene and I were about to depart for the evening and were saying our farewells to the Watsons, Dr. Watson suddenly spoke up; “May I have a word with Mrs. Drebber? I assure you it won’t be long.”

I glanced over at Irene and she nodded her approval s.

So, I answered, “We are in no hurry.”

Irene followed Dr. Watson back into his study.

Later that evening, Irene and I conferred back in our Baker Street flat. First she insisted I recount my time with Dr. Watson, and then she detailed to me the relevant portions of her conversation with Mrs. Watson:

“It took some getting around to, of course. One plainly does not get in her good graces by speaking of Mr. Holmes. However, she has much cause for complaint and few people to complain to, so once I worked around to the topic she answered easily enough.

“I believe I asked with all of our dear little Victoria’s tact, ‘You’ve worked with Mr. Sherlock Holmes too, haven’t you? What did you make of him?’

“Mrs. Watson frowned at that and said, ‘He was kind enough, I suppose. My interaction with him was solely professional and for his part he appeared rather immersed in the case. Though he was not so consumed that he could not flaunt his renowned abilities.’

“If you recall from Dr. Watson’s account of the case - you did read it on the boat over, didn’t you Godfrey? - Mr. Holmes appeared to be even more intent on showing off his abilities than usual, which Mrs. Watson corroborated. One can only speculate about his reasons for doing so. I tried to hone in on the matter by asking, ‘What was it like seeing Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson working together?’

“Mrs. Watson answered, ‘I would hesitate to call it working together. Mr. Holmes does not treat John as an equal and at times he is even harsh. I know John admires him so, but as his wife it is difficult to see them together.’

“Given what we already know, I can only imagine she finds it difficult to see her husband interacting with Mr. Holmes not only on account of Mr. Holmes’s behavior, but also because of her husband’s regard for him. I pushed a little more on that point - ‘Is Mr. Holmes never kind to Dr. Watson?’

“She answered, ‘It’s difficult to tell. John seems rarely to mind, but even when he is being kind there is some condescension to it, or he’s trying to make some sort of point. Often I find him looking at John with that judgemental look of his. But the way John speaks of him, there is no better person in the world.’

“I was not going to get any farther with that line of questioning, so I asked, ‘Have you seen Mr. Holmes since you married Dr. Watson?’

“She answered, ‘From time to time, but I believe we both prefer to see as little of each other as we can. Ever since John and I were engaged, Mr. Holmes has behaved strangely around me. I can’t quite place it, but I can tell that he is uncomfortable, and I have a strong feeling that he dislikes me. John has said he has no interest in women outside the cases they bring. I don’t know if there is anything more to it than that, but sometimes it seems his glare is aimed particularly at me.’

“I tried a few other questions, but that is about all I was able to gather,” Irene concluded.

“And what about your word with Dr. Watson?” I attempted once more.

Finally, she capitulated with a wry smile, and recounted their conversation:

“He was plainly distressed,” she said, “Once we were in his study, he hesitated for a long while before he asked, ‘Miss Adler? What are you doing here asking after Holmes?’ He did not bother to hide his concern or fear, though he also attempted to loom over me like he was trying to be intimidating.”

“I am afraid to say,” Irene continued, “That his deduction startled me after everything we have heard about the man. Dr. Watson has plainly learned more from his acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes than he lets on.”

At that I confessed, “That may be my doing as much as Dr. Watson’s. I let on more about your identity than I had intended.”

“What is done is done,” Irene said and resumed her tale: “One look at Dr. Watson and I could tell that he wasn’t going to be convinced that he was mistaken, so I did the only other thing I could do and said, ‘It’s Mrs. Norton, thank you.’

“He was hardly deterred. He demanded, ‘What do you want with Holmes?’

“I deflected, ‘You must be aware that his abilities have won him many admirers. Why could I not be among them?’

“He had none of it. ‘If I am correct, your aim is not one to be taken lightly. Holmes holds nothing against you - why do you seek to ruin him?’

“I answered, ‘I seek nothing of the sort.’

“He demanded, ‘Then what are you after with such an inquiry?’

“‘Merely the truth,’ I said lightly.

“‘And what have you found?’ He asked the question carefully. For all my attention, I could not tell whether he meant it as a challenge, a desperate plea, or an honest inquiry.

“So, I answered honestly, ‘Little of note. Mr. Holmes is a man of few friends - you chief among them - and he has little regard for women. He easily lends himself to speculation, but there is little indication of whether it is founded. Now, I have a question of my own for you: who might have such an interest in ruining Mr. Holmes?’

“Dr. Watson answered, ‘It would be impossible not to make enemies in his line of work.’

“I pressed, ‘Is there anyone of particular note?’

“He cut straight to the point - subtlety is hardly his forte, but he used his bluntness to his advantage - ‘What are you after?’

“I explained as little as would suffice, ‘There is someone of considerable means who is after Mr. Holmes. I may have some hint as to his identity.’

“At last, Dr. Watson paused to consider my question. Finally, he suggested with some reluctance, ‘There is a blackmailer that Holmes has run afoul of in the past: Mr. Charles Augustus Milverton.’”

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #H/W #Irene Adler #A Scandal on Baker Street

0 notes