Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, Volume 9

by Marvin Kaye

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #9 (Vol. 4, No. 1) is copyright © 2013 by Wildside Press LLC. All rights reserved. Visit us at wildsidemagazines.com.

  Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine is published by Wildside Press, LLC. Single copies: $10.00 + $3.00 postage. U.S. subscriptions: $39.95 (postage paid) for the next 4 issues in the U.S.A., from: Wildside Press LLC, Subscription Dept. 9710 Traville Gateway Dr., #234; Rockville MD 20850. International subscriptions: see our web site at

  www.wildsidemagazines.com. Available as an ebook through all major ebook stores.

  * * * *

  The Sherlock Holmes characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle are used

  by permission of Conan Doyle Estate Ltd., www.conandoyleestate.co.uk.

  STAFF

  Cover Art: Thomas Gianni

  Publisher: John Betancourt

  Editor: Marvin Kaye

  Assistant Editors: Steve Coupe, Sam Cooper

  FROM WATSON’S SCRAPBOOK, by Dr John H. Watson, M.D.

  So here we are in our ninth issue of Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine. I confess to some trepidation that it would not last this long, though Holmes never had any doubts whatever, and that I do believe is a function of his ego—new adventures of the illustrious detective? Why, how could anyone resist?

  In the following pages, you will encounter perhaps for the first time my account of that unpleasant business of The Five Orange Pips. I have also given permission to Mr Jack Grochot to interpret my handwritten notes (no easy task, for what they say about a physician’s cuneiform is, alas, true) of The Case of Vamberry the Wine Merchant, which I declare to be one of Holmes’s more impressive performances, as well as a go-ahead to Mr Bruce Kilstein, a fellow physician, to tell the dramatic recounting of The Blackheath Collapse.

  At first, Holmes was somewhat reluctant to permit this periodical to be published, but he is now an enthusiastic supporter thereof, for he feels that he has been handsomely and accurately represented in these pages. As for myself, I am always and ever pleased to receive royalties for my efforts.

  Holmes and I both look forward to the next issue, which shall consist solely of his ratiocinative exploits. Indeed, it will contain The Field Bazaar, which was not a case at all, but instead, a domestic scene between Holmes and me at 221B.

  But now I must report on a new publishing venture that fills me and Holmes with chagrin. Some ragtag rascals who call themselves publishers intend to print new versions of some of my tales about Holmes with the added element of erotica perverting the plots. We have tried to secure an injunction against this disgusting effort, but because of some legal loophole we cannot do so. This, by the way, is not the first time this sort of thing has been tried. I have in my library a blue (literally as well) pamphlet which had me relating how I treated the wounds inflicted on the villain’s wife in The Hound of the Baskervilles. Said injuries required my rubbing in ointment ever so gently to her aching naked buttocks. Of course, this never happened, but it was at least rather mild and its tone was as gentlemanly as possible, so I chose to ignore its existence. I doubt, though, that such good taste will be evident in the upcoming publications.

  Now I shall turn over this forum to my colleague and co-editor, Mr Kaye.

  — John H Watson, MD

  Welcome back! It is always a pleasure to edit this long-overdue magazine that celebrates the many adventures of Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, as well as other tales of crime and mystery.

  In addition to the three aforementioned Holmesian adventures, our contents this number includes stories by Marc Bilgrey, Carla Coupe, Jay Carey, John M. Floyd, Paullette Goudet, Janice Law, and Nijo Philip. I was especially taken by the nastiness of Ms. Coupe’s all-too-real villain—actually, it was not he who I was glad to read about, but his altogether deserved punishment. I also quite liked Mr. Floyd’s charming tale, Valentine’s Day, about a new elderly distaff detective. We will be publishing more of her adventures.

  The upcoming tenth issue of Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine will, as Dr Watson said, be entirely devoted to Holmesian stories. Among its participants will be Carole Buggé, Peter Cannon, Herschel Cozine, Christian Endres, Jack Grochot, Martin Rosenstock, Mark Wardecker, and Zack Wentz. The nonfiction section will include a study of Sherlock Holmes and science-fiction (!).

  —Marvin Kaye

  New York City

  March, 2013

  CARTOON, by Marc Bilgrey

  COMING NEXT TIME . . .

  It’s another special

  ALL SHERLOCK HOLMES FICTION ISSUE!

  *

  Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #10

  is just a few months away…watch for it!

  SCREEN OF THE CRIME, by Lenny Picker

  Miller Time? How TV Reinvented Holmes For Modern Times—Again

  It took me nine episodes for the new CBS drama Elementary to win me over. I had watched an advance copy of the pilot with my long-suffering wife (regular readers of this column, if any, may recall that she endured screening multiple versions of Hound, and one-is-more-than-enough viewing of Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace—watch this space for details of that experience), and we both found it enjoyable enough. But with memories of the mind-blowing second season of BBC’s Sherlock fresh in our minds, this version of a Holmes walking modern streets, using 21st century technology, felt less than compelling.

  I dutifully recorded the subsequent episodes on my DVR, where they sat in a virtual pile of unwatched programs. Eventually, my schedule cleared a bit, and I made my way through episodes two through eight, without much changing from my initial impression. There were too many parallels with USA Network’s Monk—an eccentric sleuth, a female “companion” attempting to keep him in line, a friend on the force with a younger police colleague. And Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman cast a huge shadow, and will likely do so for some time.

  But the series, from the outset, did carve out a unique niche in the large universe of screen adaptations of the Canon. No, not in having a female Watson (or the functional equivalent)—there was Joanne Woodward in 1971’s They Might Be Giants, Jenny O’Hara opposite Larry Hagman’s Holmes in 1976’s The Return of the World’s Greatest Detective, Margaret Colin in 1987’s The Return of Sherlock Holmes, and Debrah Farentino in 1993’s Sherlock Holmes Returns. (By the way, all of these were in contemporary settings.) And not in the New York City setting—apart from They Might Be Giants, who could forget Roger Moore and Patrick Macnee in 1976’s Sherlock Holmes in New York, not that some of us don’t wish to?

  So what is really novel here (there is something new under the sun), is the emphasis placed on Holmes’s addiction to narcotics. It is that destructive habit that led his father to hire Joan Watson (Lucy Liu) as his sober companion, and gave this Holmes (Jonny Lee Miller) a foil to help him get through the initial transition after a stint in rehab. (The setup makes it less than surprising that Watson’s role in Holmes’s life continues well past the time of her original engagement.) Thus, it only makes sense for Holmes’s former drug use, and struggle to avoid relapsing, to be part of every episode. We see Holmes at meetings of fellow addicts, watch Watson attempt to hook him up with a sponsor, and her fear that he’s gone back to drugs when he drops out of sight.

  In an experience of Holmes on screen that extends over four decades and two continents, I am not aware of any series that puts this problematic aspect of the character front-and-center. (The film of The Seven Percent Solution obviously did so on the big screen, but about midway through, Freud helped Holmes kick the habit, making the action-packed denouement indistinguishable from other films; and had Nicholas Meyer’s superior—and less
ambitious—second pastiche, The West End Horror, made it to film, that picture would not have.) And it is a problematic aspect; with my 12-year-old sons about to delve into the Canon, how do I explain my attachment to and reverence for a character who abuses his body on a regular basis? And given Holmes’s love of logic, how could he not absorb the reasoned arguments Watson made about the dangers of cocaine and morphine: “Count the cost! Your brain may, as you say, be roused and excited, but it is a pathological and morbid process, which involves increased tissue-change and may at last leave a permanent weakness. You know, too, what a black reaction comes upon you. Surely the game is hardly worth the candle. Why should you, for a mere passing pleasure, risk the loss of those great powers with which you have been endowed?” (The Sign of the Four). If guessing was destructive to the logical faculty, as Holmes stated in The Sign of the Four, how much more so was the introduction of mind- and mood-altering chemicals?

  Small wonder that adapters have treaded lightly here; the Rathbone Hound ended, illogically, with him calling for Watson to get him “the needle.” The Canon rationalizes the use of drugs as a coping mechanism to deal with boredom, and as a substitute for mental stimulation—circumstances that didn’t apply when he’d just laid the Baskerville family curse low. That throwaway line, which was literally thrown away—cut from initial prints of the film—adds less than zero to the plot or character, and it’s as close as the Rathbone series got to acknowledging Holmes’s addiction.

  Something about adapting Hound brings this out—the 2002 Roxburgh version has Holmes shooting up in the midst of the case, which is even sillier, given that the Canonical Holmes justifies his use of cocaine, by stating that he would resort to “artificial stimulants” only in the absence of strenuous mental exercise from a challenging investigation.

  But clearly, focusing on Holmes as a recovering addict is not an out-of-left-field gratuitous addition to the character. And the problem is handled naturally; at the outset, Holmes does not share his recovery with his liaison with the NYPD, Inspector Gregson, fearing that it will disqualify him from serving as a consultant to the Department. And Watson is explained away as a valet or personal assistant.

  Having Watson hired by a thus-far-unseen father to Holmes (as opposed to a more canonical paternal elder brother Mycroft) is also an interesting innovation. Show co-creator Robert Doherty commented on this aspect of Elementary. I suppose that it humanizes him in certain ways.

  Holmes wasn’t “made,” he wasn’t sent here from space—he’s a real man with a real family from a real home. There are stories to tell about how he got here from there, why he does what he does, how he got along with his family, etc. I look forward to meeting Dad one of these days.

  And humanizing Holmes, in my view, is essential for viewer engagement. If the Holmes of the books, or on radio or the screen, was actually “the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen,” the character would not be so popular over 125 years after his debut in print.

  Miller’s Holmes is less acerbic than Cumberbatch’s, and more sentimental. That is best-illustrated by the ending of episode nine, “You Do It To Yourself.” The main plotline centers on the murder of a professor (a puzzle inspired by one of the canonical tales), but the subplot is just as gripping; Watson is contacted by Liam Danow, her former lover, who is also a heroin addict. This backstory fleshes out the character nicely and results in a very moving closing scene (nonspoiler alert—it has nothing to do with the murder mystery).

  Watson thinks that Liam may finally be ready to get clean permanently and arranges to meet with him at a clinic. Given their shared history, and her understanding of the challenges of addiction, her presence at the appointed time is a triumph of hope over experience.

  To her surprise, and the viewer’s, Holmes shows up to keep her company; he knows that Liam is a likely no-show, and rather than let his friend go through the anxiety of waiting alone and going through the shattering disappointment when lingering no longer makes any sense without support, he’s there for her. They sit quietly, as the mournful, downbeat lyrics of No’s “The Long Haul” (no, I never heard of this band, either, before) play. It’s a powerful ending, and a moving one, that made me want to rethink my attitude towards the series.

  Miller is not Cumberbatch or Brett or Merrison or Rathbone. But, with Elementary green-lit for a second season based on its high ratings, at the end of that season in 2014, Miller will have played the part in over 40 episodes, almost 29 hours (in these diluted days of 42-minute hour dramas), which would elevate him to the very first rank of portrayers of the Master. (I haven’t done the math on the Ellie Norwood silent films, but Clive Merrison’s radio Holmes aside, only Jeremy Brett’s 45 episodes will rank ahead of Miller, a distinction that a third season will shatter). And in terms of viewership, only Robert Downey, Jr. is in the same class.

  So for many, Miller’s Holmes will be the Holmes they first experienced. Having his Canon-derived flaws out in the open and an integral part of the portrayal may not be such a bad thing, even if the format of the show dictates less complicated cases, and less brilliant deduction than BBC’s Sherlock showcases. The concept may have originated when Doherty and friend Carl Beverly (now coexecutive producer for the show), started kicking around Beverly’s idea of “Sherlock Holmes in New York City.”

  But in choosing to highlight something that was background at best before, the pair have hit on an interesting new interpretation.

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  Lenny Picker, who also writes for Publishers Weekly, can be reached at chthompson@jtsa.edu.

  ASK MRS HUDSON, by Mrs Martha Hudson

  Dear Mrs Hudson,

  I wonder what the most dangerous case might be that Mr Holmes personally involved you in? I am guessing it may be the one Dr Watson called “His Last Bow,” although he did not personally narrate it. Details would be appreciated!

  Sincerely,

  Lillian Prendergast

  Montclair, NJ

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  Dear Mrs (or Miss) Prendergast,

  Thank you so much for your missive—it is much appreciated, and does my heart good to know someone is reading my little literary efforts, such as they are. I would not presume to intrude upon Dr Watson’s territory—he is the true writer—but I am always gratified to hear from my readers.

  Actually, the most dangerous case I was personally involved did not so much contain risk to myself as it did Dr Watson. In fact, I think the dear man was so disturbed by what happened that he never put pen to paper to write about it. I have on two occasions mentioned it to him, but when I do, he goes quite pale and makes some excuse or other as to why he is too busy to write about it. I am not possessed of his literary gifts, but I will do my best to narrate it in brief here. It was in the early days of Mr Holmes and Dr Watson’s tenancy, and I daresay if it had happened later the outcome would have been different.

  The story concerns a Miss Valerie Carstairs, who arrived at Baker Street on a wet afternoon in late October. She seemed most distressed, and when I escorted her upstairs, Dr Watson greeted her and invited her to sit by the fire and tell him the purpose of her visit. Mr Holmes was out, engaged by Detective Lestrade in a case of grand larceny that he later said was quite easily solved—but as he was not to return for some time, Dr Watson persuaded the young lady to tell her tale to him. As I was serving them tea, I chanced to hear the main points of it myself.

  It seems the young lady’s former fiancé had taken it rather hard when she broke off their engagement, and continued to plague her with repeated letters, visits, and most recently, threats to her person. You can imagine Dr Watson’s reaction to this—ever the gallant protector of women, he fairly seethed with rage and determination to send this young blackguard on his way. Though I begged him to wait for Mr Holmes’s return, he insisted that this case called for no keen deductive powers, but rather the kind of stalwart fortitude that he as a former military man could offer.

  The young lady’s insist
ence that her fiancé (whose name was Edmund Simpson) was a dangerous man fell on deaf ears—Dr Watson’s sense of chivalry had been aroused, and he insisted on calling upon the young man immediately to warn him to cease his harassment of Miss Carstairs. Perhaps sensing the good doctor’s intentions, Simpson refused to see him, even though he was clearly at home when Dr Watson called. I was persuaded to call upon him myself later than afternoon, on the pretext that I was a long-lost aunt who had come into some money that I wished to leave to him. What ambitious young man can resist such an intriguing suggestion, even if he suspects trickery?

  I was duly admitted into the household, while Dr Watson waited out of sight—and just before the door closed behind me, he forced his way into the establishment and confronted the miscreant in his foyer. While Miss Carstairs had informed us the young man was dangerous, she failed to mention that he was a fencing champion—or that he kept a collection of swords in his foyer. Grabbing a well-sharpened foil, Simpson attacked Dr Watson while I watched, horrified. The poor man received several nasty wounds before my screams brought help in the form of a constable whose daily beat luckily took him past the townhouse in question.

  Mr Simpson was arrested and charged with assault and attempted murder, for which he received a lengthy prison term—the jury being moved by the introduction of his repeated threats to Miss Carstairs into evidence.

  Dr Watson recovered from his wounds, though the slash on his shoulder left a scar and continued to ache in damp weather. I think his pride was injured as well, as he never spoke of the incident afterwards, and, as I said, has refused to write about it. Mr Holmes has never brought it up since, knowing, I think, how it pains Dr Watson to think of it. After that he seldom went on a dangerous case with Mr Holmes without bringing his service revolver.

  There is another very dangerous case that I was personally involved in—a bit too personally, perhaps, and if you care to read it, you may do so in the novel The Star of India, which has been recently rereleased by Titan Books.