Unbetitelt

Obviously, it is fair to state that no, none of the fictionalised work penned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century is real, aside from occasional real-life inspiration (such as Sherlock Holmes being influenced by Sir Doyle’s deductive teacher, Dr Joseph Bell, or John Watson feasibly being a stand-in for the author himself). Although, it is worth mentioning that in a 2008 study, 58% of British teenagers believed Mr Holmes to be a real detective (whereas 23% thought Winston Churchill was a fictional character), so it is worthwhile to first and foremost clear up this grey area. 

However, for many Sherlock Holmes fans (often called ‘Holmesians’ or ‘Sherlockians’) we take our reading a few steps further. Perhaps Dr Watson was fictional, but are his narratives also fictional within his reality? We, as readers, are only able to read what he writes (apart from the select few cases in which Holmes has his say, or the elusive tales where the narrator is unknown… more on this later), so how do we know if he is telling the truth? 

Personally, I have a hard time believing anything Watson tells us, as he is proven to alter the truth to fit his own preferences on multiple surface level cases. Famously, he creates quite a bit of uncertainty surrounding his wife, introducing her as Mary Morstan, the orphan in need of rescuing, then including her visit to her mother’s in The Five Orange Pips- and this is only the beginning of his falsehoods. Watson shapes the narrative to suit his needs, contradicting himself through many ‘mistakes’, which could be attributed to his (or, more believably, Sir Doyle’s) forgetfulness. After all, many people have minced up the dates of events in their life, or forgotten the name of their landlady, or been called the wrong name by their wife…supposedly. Can we not forgive Watson/Doyle for mild absent-mindedness?

Admittedly, this is the easiest and more likely option. Over the forty years, Sir Doyle’s attentiveness for chronology understandably dwindled, given that his dedication to the detective eventually waned. Sir Doyle wanted to explore different aspects of life and his career outside of serial ‘penny-dreadfuls’ which required new and updated twists and turns every week, and can we blame him? But, I ask you, dear reader, to suspend your disbelief momentarily (committing to death of the author), and imagine a reality in which Sherlock Holmes and John Watson actually lived and worked in 221B Baker Street, solving crimes and going on adventures in and around London, whilst the detective’s ‘Boswell’ dutifully wrote-up and published their time together on The Strand. 

Now, I reiterate my initial question, how much of it is true?

In whichever adaptation you have watched (as I highly doubt you have never glimpsed any), whether it be an exciting action movie version; a modern-day update which rose to fame as quickly as it… disappointed; a more faithful television series that pulls direct dialogue from the canon; a movie series clearly laced with war propaganda but still beloved; or any adaptation produced over the past century, one element is essential to any retelling of these well-known stories- the topic of Holmes’ and Watson’s relationship. To joke about two close men living in close quarters with each other potentially being gay is a tale as old as time (although this joke can have serious real-life implications) but to believe it? To say that, yes, Holmes and Watson were in a loving, homosexual relationship with each other and were incredibly happy together- this is not taken seriously. It is attributed to the recent surge of ‘over-homoerotisicing’ male friendships and not allowing men to just be friends; or, dismissed as usual ‘fangirl shipping’ without any real understanding as to why many believe this to be a fact. (I should point out, the phrases I have written between apostrophes should be read with both sarcasm and tiredness, as I do not believe it is fair to state either of those occurrences as lesser than, or something to mock). 

When I first approached the canon at the ripe age of eleven years-old, I came from a background of murder mysteries suitable (sometimes unsuitable) for young eyes, all under the shadow of Sherlock Holmes, and was beginning to watch a certain infamous television series which probed at ‘gay’ jokes like a bear sticking its paw inside of a bee’s nest and surprised when it is stung. Of course, I was learning about this new and interesting ‘fandom’, where people viewed pages and scenes under a microscopic lens, searching for intertextual clues or meta thematic elements that might just hint that the two main male leads, known for their intimate association, might, maybe, potentially be more than friends. I took it all with a grain of salt. I knew what ‘gay’ meant, and knew I was likely gay myself (I told myself that was a ‘problem’ for later), but I had hardly ever seen it respectfully depicted in the media. Sure, the odd mention of a gay man was possible, but for it to be treated the same way as a heterosexual couple might? Doubtful- I wasn’t holding my breath. 

I read the Holmes books with a sense of glee, like I was being accepted into some sort of ‘community’- one of iconic detectives and the ability to off-handedly reference exactly how Holmes deduced Watson’s brother was a drunk (scratches around his pocket-watch keyhole, a mistake a sober man would never make) and to say ‘elementary, my dear Watson’ whilst wearing a deerstalker and smoking a pipe… all in my young imagination, of course. 

I was obsessed. From the start- Watson’s direness to find a suitable flatmate, indicating a life of misfortune, followed by a miserable descent into adulthood, only to find Holmes, a light in his darkness. Their adventures full of action and twists and turns and fear, at times, all parenthesised by breakfast at Baker Street and supper at Claridge’s, or a visit to the music hall. All of it felt comfortable, familiar- baring Watson’s unreliability to tell the whole truth, which, at the time, could be ignored. 

As I’ve grown up, I’ve revisited these stories multiple times, ‘silly’ detective stories which might not have the same depth and subtext as Dostoyevsky or Dickens. 

Slowly, I lost faith in that belief.

Led on by like-minded people who also agreed that Holmes and Watson (in whichever universe they existed) were more than friends, I began to invest in the evidence, which I hadn’t realised had been glaringly staring me in the face all along. Whereas before, I told myself that Holmes and Watson were never intended to be together, it was impossible and merely a light-hearted misreading of the text, I started to join the dots. How I solidified my belief?

1895.

‘Here dwell together still two men of note’, so begins Vincent Starrett’s poem, titled ‘221B’, where he claims ‘it is always eighteen ninety-five’, often cited as Holmes’ most successful and ambitious year of solving crime. Watson tells us specifically which cases happened in this notable year, without any need to search for intertextual clues that the cases of The Solitary Cyclist, Black Peter, The Bruce-Partington Plans and The Three Students all occurred in 1895. Surprisingly, we are given specifics: respectively, we are told these cases happened on the 23rd of April, July and November, although he wasn’t as precise with The Three Students. In fact, in this case, Holmes and Watson have left London, for reasons he doesn’t care to indulge.

What else occured in 1895 which has so convinced me Watson was cleverly concealing the true nature of his and Holmes’ relationship? The shocking Wilde trials. 

The celebrated author and playwright who bolstered the aestheticism movement, or ‘art for art’s sake’, was found guilty of gross indecency and imprisoned for two years- this led to many homosexual couples evacuating London, for no given reason. Why on Earth would Watson specify a year (which, as many readers know, dates are not spared lightly in a Watsonian narrative) only to refuse to provide information as to why he and his close, intimate associate decided to leave London? Why specifically 1895, a year apparently not short of mystery and intrigue for the detective duo? Why else but to hint to knowing readers of the Victorian/Edwardian period that there was something more to the stories he told? And this, dear reader, is why I (finally) state my case: Holmes and Watson were a homosexual couple in a time when their mere existence was vilified and criminalised, so to protect themselves, Watson began to publicize their life under carefully constructed narratives- one big lie wrapped in truths so it is deemed believable. The cases might be real at times, as Sherlock Holmes was still a detective and Watson a doctor, but could be reflective of other events in their life, or Watson’s own imaginings to fill up a gap where they were, for example, out of London for reasons Watson ‘need not enter’. Those inconsistencies and mistakes? The elusive wife who might be an orphan or might be at her mother’s or who might have passed? The shifting chronology which is near impossible to pin down if we believe everything Watson tells us? Breadcrumbs.

Watson is lying to us, and he hopes that one day ‘the true story may be told’. 

Therefore, I have attempted to construct my own order of the published cases, both when the events occurred and when Watson wrote them up (somewhat like William Baring-Gould, but with a very different mindset) to establish where he has told us the truth, or where he truly takes on the title of ‘unreliable narrator’ to hide his and Holmes’ romantic relationship. In doing so, I’ve wilfully ignored much we have been told directly, often creating my own lines to read between, but trying to gauge the mindset of the biographer turned doctor to understand the reality of this piece of fiction and faithfully reproduce an order of events. I will add, Watson is a complicated man, too humble to admit that in his own narrative of course, and should these stories all been written by Holmes (unlikely), I might have found it easier since I understand his mindset better. Whilst connecting these cases, I felt like Holmes on a case, but grasping the human nature, the human errors behind them? I needed a Watson.