The Observance of Trifles

The Lion's Mane

A bittersweet tale of retirement, this odd crime-less story from Holmes’ pen is a rare insight into the mind of the ageing, lonely ex-detective. There is much that we learn about his life after leaving the bustle of London: the quiet nature around him, his simple routine, his new friendships, his interest in photography, and his estrangement with Watson. What June Thomson in her fascinating Holmes and Watson calls “a slow drifting apart, brought about by the physical distance between them, rather than through any specific alienation” is not a pleasant thing to muse on, but it is clear, at least from what the two men share with their readers, that Holmes retires alone while his friend stays in London with his new wife and flourishing practice. Though they still correspond and enjoy “an occasional week-end visit”, this unexplained estrangement makes the lack of a Watsonian touch much more jarring than in Holmes' previous recollection, as his absence echoes throughout the narrative.

The Blanched Soldier

For this end-of-career investigation into the disappearance of a gentleman’s army mate, we are astonished to hear from Holmes himself for the first time. There is no denying that Holmes’ narration lacks Watson’s warmth and poetic touch, but his two stories are not as inferior as some critics seem to think. It is true that compared to his earlier recollections in "The Gloria Scott” and “The Musgrave Ritual”, they could do with some joie de vivre, but that is only in keeping with the tone of the other tales from The Case-Book, including those narrated by Watson. What is evident is that, at the time he is writing these, Holmes does miss his friend terribly and funnels his loneliness into sarcastic remarks, as he is wont to do.

The Three Gables

The subdued omnipresent strain of period-typical racism that runs throughout the entire canon is at its worst in this shoddily plotted story. Though it gives us a hasty peek at the formidably under-used Langdale Pike, Holmes’ gossiping columnist friend, there is nothing that can redeem this adventure. Holmes is indeed a product of his time and privileged place in society, and as such displays a complex array of prejudicial attitudes, but it is hard to reconcile his relaxed mood at the conclusion of “The Yellow Face” with his aggressive racism toward the figure of Steve Dixie. The case itself is a rehash of an already twice-used plot, growing weaker each time: it is basically identical in premise to both the events of the Red-Headed League and the missing Garrideb, with clues that apparently no one but the reader picks up on, a Holmes with a remarkable absence of foresight, and the villain(ess) undeservedly getting away with her crime. One is left to wonder why it was considered for publication at all. 

The Illustrious Client

“He gave no explanations and I asked for none. By long experience I had learned the wisdom of obedience. But when I had left his room I walked down Baker Street, revolving in my head how on earth I was to carry out so strange an order.”

The Three Garridebs

“The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.”

How Watson Learned the Trick

“I was thinking how superficial are these tricks of yours, and how wonderful it is that the public should continue to show interest in them.”

With about five hundred words, this literal bite-size breakfast scene is the shortest of all Holmes tales. Originally bound into a miniature book for Queen Mary's Dolls' House, it was more broadly republished than the earlier “The Field Bazaar” and tends to be the best known of the two stories, which are usually treated as parodies.

The fact that Holmes (a man who had never been interested in team sports) would suddenly care about cricket results and allow himself to forgo shaving (with the sole excuse that he owns only one razor which he has sent away for sharpening) makes his airy dismissal of Watson’s deductions quite suspicious. It’s also the first we hear of Barlow, his dentist, surely a man with a role to play when Holmes got his left canine knocked out in a fight.

The Sussex Vampire

When publishing in the mid-1920s, Watson would have had a good idea of the growing appeal of the vampire figure to the popular imagination, but no amount of fiddling around with chronology could enable us to place the events of this adventure after the writing of Bram Stoker's Dracula. At the time of Holmes' and Watson's visit to Sussex, the famous vampire story was Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla.

Serialised in the early 1870s, the novella tells the professedly real story of the young Laura, and her sexually-charged relationship with the mysterious Carmilla. Holmes' own vampire case, though eventually not supernatural, also relies on preconceived notions and fears of ‘unpredictable’ foreign women. Carmilla was partly illustrated by D. H. Friston, who would be responsible for the very first portraits of Holmes and Watson a few years later.

The Creeping Man

To the modern reader, the story of Professor Presbury’s transformation is pure fiction. It is not scientifically possible for someone to inherit the characteristics of an animal by absorbing part of it, and injecting someone with what is conceptually a form of hormone therapy will most likely do what hormone therapy does best. Which is not to turn an ageing man into a monkey, no matter how strong the testis extract is. 

We are quick to dismiss the tale as somewhat unworthy of our standard Holmes fare, but the events of this strange turn-of-the-century adventure are clearly referencing Brown-Séquard’s earlier dubious experiments in regaining ‘male vigour’ and has deep roots in both the contemporary fascination with ‘eternal youth’ treatments and the emergence of endocrinology. In the decade it was (finally) published in, huge advances had been made in our understanding of hormones, leading notably to the isolation and synthetisation of testosterone in 1935.

The Problem of Thor Bridge

“Somewhere in the vaults of the bank of Cox & Co., at Charing Cross, there is a travel-worn and battered tin dispatch-box with my name, John H. Watson, M.D., Late Indian Army, painted upon the lid. It is crammed with papers, nearly all of which are records of cases to illustrate the curious problems which Mr. Sherlock Holmes had at various times to examine.”

The Mazarin Stone

“Because the faculties become refined when you starve them. Why, surely, as a doctor, my dear Watson, you must admit that what your digestion gains in the way of blood supply is so much lost to the brain. I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix. Therefore, it is the brain I must consider.”

The Crown Diamond

The case of the Mazarin diamond started as a one-act play with a modest run, which as soon as it closed was given the short story treatment. It continues an odd spot of third-person narration, possibly because, like in “His Last Bow”, Watson is mostly absent from the narrative.

In the Strand version, we learn that Holmes has been tailing his suspect, disguised as an old woman. On the stage, it is primarily Watson who is taken in. When the doctor is enjoying a meditative cigarette in Baker Street, Holmes – or rather a “tall, bent old woman in black with veil and side-curls” – enters, taunts him, makes for the detective’s bedroom, and triggers an alarm that plunges the scene in complete darkness, save for an electric sign with the words “​​DON'T TOUCH!” When the lights go on again, Holmes is back in his usual dress: “A little comic relief, Watson. When I saw you sitting there looking so solemn, I really couldn't help it.”

Preface to His Last Bow

“The Friends or Mr Sherlock Holmes will be glad to learn that he is still alive and well, though somewhat crippled by occasional attacks of rheumatism. He has, for many years, lived in a small farm upon the Downs five miles from Eastbourne, where his time is divided between philosophy and agriculture. During this period of rest he has refused the most princely offers to take up various cases, having determined that his retirement was a permanent one.”

His Last Bow

“I feel twenty years younger...But you, Holmes—you have changed very little—save for that horrible goatee.” “These are the sacrifices one makes for one’s country, Watson,” said Holmes, pulling at his little tuft.

The Valley of Fear

It was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary excursion. We slept in a double-bedded room, which was the best that the little country inn could do for us. I was already asleep when I was partly awakened by his entrance.

The Dying Detective

Of the thirty-four stories published in the new century, very few are concerned with pre-hiatus events. Holmes’ strange tale of malingering is one of them. When disclosing these details more than two decades later, Watson may have reminisced calmly on this deceitful plot to which he and Mrs Hudson fell victim, but at the time, he could not have known that Holmes would soon play a similarly cruel trick by disappearing altogether. The fact that this is a story that uses no present-day framing and focuses on the action rather than Watson’s usual florid narration shows that the recollection no doubt stung a bit.