Of Sherlock Holmes: Confessions Upon "The Yellow Face" - By John H. Watson, MD.

[Ent]

Now and again someone wonders about the Old Ent's writings. Most of them are not Tolkien related.
Here might be a place to post one or two...

With this piece, my effort was to put it "in Watson's voice" and make the tone and voice sound as much as possible as Doyle's own work. It is Watson's recounting of his 'issues' with how Holmes handled this particular 'adventure'.

CONFESSIONS UPON
.THE YELLOW FACE
............John H. Watson, M.D.

It has been fully three days now since I completed and sent for publication, under the title “The Yellow Face,” a sketch of the peculiar events transpiring at Norbury which eventually brought Mr. Grant Munro to the door of my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes in search of aid. I must confess even now, upon this fourth morning following, I am still unsettled in mind about the entire affair, and his most unnatural and unsatisfactory handling of it, just as I was for some time following the actual events.

My friend is, without question, in possession of a considerable assortment of exceptional talents, a broad and admirable knowledge within his sphere, and a singular devotion to his pursuit of facts and solutions. I suppose I must acknowledge I have come to expect seeing these displayed in full measure as a matter of routine, regardless of circumstance, once he has favorably decided to pursue a problem brought to him. It is certainly this expectation causing me such surprise and discomfiture at his shortcomings in this case.

I can almost wish while reviewing the available notes of his cases, I had not chanced upon this one, refreshing the distasteful sentiments with regard to it I had hoped were already and altogether put away. I have determined therefore to make this final effort to eliminate these vexations once for all, laying my thoughts and displeasures out upon paper, and thus divest myself of the matter entirely. Both the writing and these notes shall then be buried forever away in hope they, with my unhealthy burden over the matter, may never see light of day again.

It was upon the Monday of the week. The day was most glorious, and I purposed to take a walk in the park, having no intention of wasting it holed up within our rooms. I ventured to ask my friend if he should care to join me, though I knew of his reluctance to take exercise without purpose. I thought it would be far preferable to the alternative he might choose in my absence, as he had been some time without a case, and the state of frustration and depression still his frequent companion during such times was becoming increasingly evident. He had spent the morning fidgeting at various interests, clearly unable to find some occupation he felt a satisfactory use of his time.

“All right then, Watson,” he cried to my surprise, tossing his hands into the air. “No doubt I shall suffer your indignations in some fashion, should I refuse” he said, and began gathering his things.

“Thank you”, I replied. “I shall enjoy your company. And it should be far better for you, I’m sure, than continuing to writhe around in your misery as you have been.”

It was around two when we stepped out, and after our two hour walk, approaching five upon our return to the lodgings. After so pleasant a time, I must say I was taken aback at Holmes’ most reproachful look and stinging comments toward me when we heard from the pageboy we had missed a visitor unwilling to wait for our return. It was also unusual, as the lad was still within range of hearing, and my friend had always been most cautious to avoid this upon our infrequent disagreements in the past.

Holmes’ errant reproach was but the first among the most unusual series of inaccurate and untimely events and conclusions I have ever seen from him and should hope ever to see.

“And this looks, from the man’s impatience, as if it were of importance,” said he with some little passion. Such a declaration, unsupported as it was by any facts or evidence, caught my attention. Frequently the most obviously impatient, agitated, and distraught seekers for Holmes’ services had made their way to his door, only to find he rejected their cases as containing the most commonplace and easily resolved problems, or the merest flights of fancy, upon which he concluded they did not deserve his attentions or involvement, and from which he usually took some small measure of amusement over their evident level of concern over trifles.

Then followed these most remarkable inaccuracies from his initial examination into the situation – his observations upon the pipe left behind by the as yet unknown Mr. Grant Munro.

Holmes first declared the man to be left-handed, as “he has been in the habit of lighting his pipe at lamps and gas-jets,” and the char was to be seen entirely upon the right side. Holmes reasoned we use our most normal hand in holding the pipe while lighting, and such “has long been held to be so.” Yet I am afraid I must conclude otherwise. The right handed man is most likely to hold the lamp in his normal, or stronger hand, the more easily to control it. The weaker hand holds the pipe, which is lighter and easier to control. Thus, the char from the lamp on the right side of the pipe would indicate the owner to be right handed. And lighting at gas-jets, which are commonly found upon the walls and stairways, is entirely dependent upon which sides one may have their gas laid in within the home, as well as which direction the lamps are approached from. The same circumstances attend the gas-jets to be found outside the home. This normally provides for some char on both sides of the pipe, regardless of which might be the “normal hand” of the owner. As we were both smokers of the pipe, having our own evidence first-hand, I found such a conclusion his part most unsettling. I might myself have sooner concluded the owner was one-handed, having lost his right through some misfortune, and so only the left remained; or the pipe was used in just one circumstance and in a consistent location, where only one lamp or jet was readily available and so always used, or a number of other possibilities.

Then, said he, the man was “muscular” and with “an excellent set of teeth”, as the pipe’s amber had been bitten through. Yet it is well known any set of muscles worked to the exclusion of others may develop such a strength as is inconsistent with the rest of the physique. Such is common with many a person who is a grinder of the teeth from nervous habit. A strength of jaw will develop most sufficient to bite through amber without the person being otherwise muscular. And, the teeth in such a case would almost certainly be damaged to some degree, rather than be in excellent condition. The man having such characteristics as Holmes proposed was an entirely unusual supposition from him, and, I felt, unworthy of his talents - worse even than his blunder regarding the owner being left handed. I had determined to challenge him upon these matters but was forestalled by Mr. Munro’s arrival.

These oddities, however, were followed by even more fantastic events.

Although, as I recorded in my sketch for the publisher, my friend appeared to listen intently to our visitor’s statement as he spoke, Holmes’ questions immediately following the narrative revealed otherwise.

“Could you swear that this was a man’s face which you saw at the window?” Holmes asked. Yet Mr. Munro had already clearly indicated he could tell nothing from the face and said as much again upon the question. Why would he seek to extract such a guided speculation from the man?

“How long is it since your wife asked you for a hundred pounds,” he asked? Mr. Munro had already declared it to be “six weeks past.” How had Holmes missed this? And as so often happens upon such questioning, a different and potentially less precise “about two months” was the reply. Such a change from precision to vaguery could serve only to bring mud into the waters. The question was entirely without necessity or merit.

“And yet she had a certificate of death. You say you saw it,” Holmes then stated. This was, perhaps, the most instructive and important statement of all, but my friend entirely missed the importance of it. Both when made during Munro’s presentation and now again as Holmes asked him for validation of the certificate for the former husband, there was no mention of a similar certificate for the daughter, who had clearly also been identified in the conversation to exist. How did Holmes fail to seize hold of this, and question concerning the daughter? Though I purposed to question put the question forward myself, Holmes moved promptly to dismiss Mr. Munro, sending him back to check again upon the house and report back. The opportunity passed.

These singular events served to cause me increased concern things might be amiss in some way. It did not take long, however, for my unease to blossom into distress.

Holmes only rarely shared his thoughts about a case with me, or with anyone, before he had most, if not all, the facts in hand; and most often, the solution as well. He had a certain penchant for the dramatic and enjoyed controlling the time and manner of his revelations. Yet at this time, when his comments upon the case brought me to ask if he had already some theory, my friend unfolded what he called a “provisional one” – a most bizarre and implausible speculation, built upon his unfounded conclusion “her first husband was in the cottage.”

Some of the difficulties within his statement must now be exposed, if I am to unburden myself of this unfortunate business.

It was clear to me both from his questioning of Mr. Munro, and his following recitation of this “provisional theory,” he was entirely focused upon just one line of reasoning; Mr. John Hebron, Effie Munro’s first husband, was still alive and in the cottage, in spite of the certificate of death. The result; his fantastic construction of either “hateful qualities” or “some loathsome disease” to effect the necessary separation of the two, and Effie’s relocation from America, all the while never acknowledging, explaining, or resolving, the existence of the death certificate which had so evidently been seen by Mr. Munro.

With so strong a contradictory fact, so abundant a number of other possibilities, and no facts at hand serving to clarify the problem, I could not understand his abnormal focus on this one immediate conclusion, from which in his mind all else must flow. I cannot agree he held it just a provisional theory – one possibility. He was set. Resolute. And unfortunately, it was the unshakable foundation from which all remaining events in the case unfolded. Yet it was entirely contrary to his own constant cautions never to draw conclusions in advance of facts.

Another evidence of his departure from form was his off-hand remark regarding the photograph Effie Munroe had taken to the occupant in the cottage; it “had probably been demanded from her.” While my own powers of deduction are no doubt of very small merit, I cannot see how Holmes could arrive at such a thought. The photograph was only some three months previously done, as Mr. Munro had advised. How would the unwanted visitor have known of it to demand it? Were we to think Mrs. Munro herself had told them? And if so, with what possible intent or hope? Could she dare to think they, who had not been satisfied with her previous bribe of a hundred pounds according to Holmes’ theory, might yet be satisfied by an addition of such a trifle? I could hardly convince myself then, nor can I now, she would have mentioned it. So, as she undoubtedly knew with what joy Mr. Munro had given it to her, should we not rather conclude it would take an even greater joy to bring her to part with it, to the possible detriment of her relationship with her new husband, and pursue theories along those lines, since the visitor could not have known of its existence?

Further, if the new visitor was there with intent to cause some mischief or grief, why would they not have done so when Mr. Munro at last rushed into the house, rather than allowing themselves to be willingly, as it would seem, hurried out the back door and into the woods to be hidden? Would this not have been the best time to seize their opportunity for mischief, seeing there was little or no hope for progress in further efforts at extortion from Effie?

No, no. There were too large and too many problems with my friend’s theory, and many facts yet to probe regardless of the definitive, almost challenging manner with which he presented his strange conclusion. Never before had he begun a conclusion with “How else can we explain it…”, even in those few times he had shared his thoughts with me in advance of having the solution in hand. Just as Mr. Munro had “framed theory after theory,” the Holmes I knew would have been doing so, awaiting evidence to unfold in support or disproval of each. Even the opportunity to ask Mr. Munro of his theories was not taken, though Holmes had often asked others (and myself) for their thoughts as a check upon his own.

Thus, when my friend asked my thoughts upon his imaginings, for such I must call them, I responded somewhat curtly, “It is all surmise,” hoping my brevity and candor might shake him from his unusual posture. There was some initial hope of success from his reply - “But at least it covers all the facts. When new facts come to our knowledge…it will be time…to reconsider it.”

The end did not bear out such hope. No further facts were pursued and no further possibilities considered. Even obvious questions at hand were not brought forth.

Could Mr. Munro tell us to what height the unsettling figure seemed to rise above the bottom of the window, which might assist in determining height? Did he recall other things seen in the room when he plunged in, helping Holmes in identifying the occupant, or at least whether it might be man or woman, or even child? Did the figure appear to stand at the window, or to sit? Did it move? If it had indeed been a full grown male such as Effie Munro’s former husband, could he have so easily been “quickly snatched from the window”? So many possibilities unquestioned and unanswered, yet needing to be.

At the last, when we traveled to Norbury, Mr. Sherlock Holmes made what I consider his greatest lapse of judgment. Though his theory held we were involved with a blackmailer at best; when he could have brought the matter fully within his grasp by added first-hand investigation; when he could have verified his theory, or rebuilt it based upon new evidence; when he could have resolved what may have been a crime for which legal involvement and an arrest was needed; at that one critical juncture of time - my friend stood back, relinquishing all authority and involvement in the matter. He simply stepped aside, leaving all decision about the course of action to take entirely to Mr. Grant Munro himself – the very man among us in the worst possible mental and emotional state to rightly consider any appropriate course of action. And so Mr. Munroe, charging forth into the cottage in a headlong rush, without any caution, threw himself into the most horrible thinkable dangers, with both Holmes and myself following behind him just as incautiously. Death could easily have resulted for us all.

I confess to this day I do not know what may have led to Sherlock Holmes’ imbalance during the course of this case. I shall never be able to reconcile within myself his total departure from all he held dear about his singular talents and chosen profession – what caused him to lose sight of solving problems for problems’ sake, and of gathering facts without drawing conclusions until they are inevitable and incontrovertible – those cherished beliefs held as his sole objective, and his tour de force. I can only hope there is no repeat of this in his future. He must ever be in command, if the world is to benefit from his talents.

My friend’s request afterward - I should whisper ‘Norbury’ in his ear as a clue he is off track and in need - was the one joyous moment in the affair and even today continues to provide me with hope for my hope.

While I may not be responsible for Holmes’ attitudes and decisions, I cannot but confess to having been sorely disappointed by his performance and dismayed at his failure. Yet at the same time I believe had I chosen different words or methods to challenge his theory, or had I intruded more forcefully upon the course of the investigation and insistent upon looking for alternatives, I might have somehow prevented this most unfortunate of failures among his many endeavours. I cannot but also be elated the matter was not a serious one, and the combined failures of the three of us, Holmes, Munro, and myself, had no worse result than they did.

In writing the sketch upon “The Yellow Face” I endeavored to present it in such a light as might give some small joy, along with justification, for including it among his published works, yet show the deficiencies to which even he has been, at least this one time, subject, in hope it might be kindly received, and do him no harm, while still serving as a warning to us all. If even he who is possessed of such abundant and strong powers of observation and reasoning can so badly fail and fall, what of the rest of us? Yet it was what it has been, and so, it seems, shall it ever be. He continues on, and continues to be the world’s only consulting detective.

Note To The Reader: The manuscript whose contents are presented here was found in the remains of a building being demolished in London, England. It has been passed down through the generations and members within the family, finally coming to me. It is submitted here for your review with the greatest respect for the love - almost reverence - held by so many for both the detective Sherlock Holmes, and his chronicler, John H. Watson, M.D.

............................................... Lloyd R. Hedberg Jr.

 

[Deimos]

Well done....reads very much like the Watson with whom I have a longstanding, if not intimate, familiarity.
(And the oblique reference to the 7% solution did not go unnoticed 😉)