by June Thomson
It is clear from even the limited list he gave Watson that Holmes’ reputation as a private consulting detective was spreading far outside the circle of his former varsity acquaintances and that he was considered expert enough to be consulted, presumably by the police, over such serious crimes as murder.
It is not known when Scotland Yard first asked Holmes for his assistance, but it was before the end of 1880, by which date he was already acquainted with Inspector Lestrade and was helping him with a forgery case. This investigation, which lasted into the early part of 1881, was probably one of the last Holmes undertook while at the Montague Street lodgings. His attitude towards what he called the ‘Scotland Yarders’ was contemptuous and shows all the arrogance of a young man aware of his own superior intelligence. As he grew older and more mature, he was to moderate his opinions. At the time he considered Lestrade and Gregson, whom he also met during this period, ‘the pick of a bad lot’, quick and energetic but shockingly conventional in their methods. He was exasperated, too, by their professional jealousy and their habit of claiming all the credit when a case was successfully solved.
Watson, with his gift for sketching people in a few vivid words, has given us descriptions of them. Lestrade was a ‘little sallow, rat-faced, dark-eyed fellow’ in contrast to Gregson who was a ‘tall, white-faced, flaxen-haired man’.
During these years, Holmes may also have made the acquaintance of Athelney Jones,* another Scotland Yard detective, a ‘very stout, portly man’, as Watson describes him. If Holmes met him before the end of 1880, then he was also involved in the Bishopgate jewel case, on which he lectured Jones and his colleagues on its causes, inferences and effects – an occasion which clearly rankled and led Jones several years later to refer to Holmes sneeringly as ‘the theorist’. His comment may well sum up the general attitude of the police at that time towards Holmes and his methods.
Holmes’ disdain was not entirely unjustified. At that time, senior police officers came up through the ranks and their standard of education was not high, compared with Holmes’. Nevertheless, one can appreciate how Lestrade, an officer of twenty years’ experience, must have felt when taught his business by a young man who was himself only in his twenties. Watson was right in thinking that at times Holmes was bumptious.
Watson has given us many descriptions of Holmes, the most detailed the one he drew of him soon after their first meeting. He was, Watson writes, rather above six feet in height and ‘so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller’. His eyes were ‘sharp and piercing … and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination’.
Over the years, Watson was to add further touches to this description, referring to Holmes’ deep-set, grey eyes; his narrow features; his dark, heavy eyebrows; his black hair, thin lips and his high, quick and ‘somewhat strident voice’.
Physically, Holmes was strong, especially in the hands, although, when necessary, he had ‘an extraordinary delicacy of touch’. Watson also states that Holmes’ senses were ‘remarkably acute’. Holmes had trained himself to see in the dark and was capable of hearing even the slightest sounds.
Towards the end of 1880 Holmes decided to look for other lodgings. He does not say what prompted this decision. Perhaps, now that his clientele was expanding, he needed more space. Or there may have been difficulties with his landlord or landlady or with other lodgers. He may even have been asked to leave. Many years later, Holmes was to tease Watson on this very subject when they were lodging in one of the university towns.*
‘What with your eternal tobacco, Watson, and your irregularity at meals, I expect that you will get notice to quit, and that I shall share in your downfall.’
This could be a wryly humorous reference to his own experience.
He cannot have been an easy tenant, with clients coming and going, quite apart from his own eccentric life-style, which included playing the violin at all hours and conducting chemical experiments in his sitting-room. As Watson was to discover, the stench from these could at times be offensive.
The need to move must have come at an inconvenient time. Not only was the number of clients increasing but Holmes was busy working at the chemistry laboratory at Bart’s on an experiment which, if successful, would be ‘the most practical medicolegal discovery for years’. This was a new method for testing the presence of blood in even a highly diluted form.†
Nevertheless, he decided to look for new lodgings at a reasonable rent, bearing out his own statement that although his practice was by this time considerable, it was ‘not very lucrative’. As someone who preferred his own company, he would certainly, given the choice, have rather lived alone. But, as he was to discover, finding the right accommodation at a price he could afford was not to prove easy.
* See Appendix One.
* See Appendix One.
† These acts were later repealed and replaced by the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971.
* See Appendix One.
* See Appendix One.
* See Appendix One.
* At the age of twenty-one, while still a medical student, James Paget, who was later knighted, discovered trichenella spiralis, the minute intestinal worm which infested humans and some animals.
* Presumably Athelney Jones is the same detective as Peter Jones, the inspector who was officially engaged on the Red-Headed League inquiry.
* Probably Oxford; see ‘The Adventure of the Three Students’.
† Christine L. Huber has suggested that Holmes’ method involved the use of sodium hydroxide and a saturated solution of ammonium sulphate. When these are added to distilled water containing only a drop of blood, a brownish dust is precipitated, denoting the presence of haemoglobin.
CHAPTER THREE
WATSON
Bart’s and Afghanistan
1872–1880
‘Watson has some remarkable characteristics of his own, to which in his modesty he has given small attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances.’
Holmes: ‘The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier’
‘In the year 1878 I took my Degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army,’ Watson states in the opening sentence of A Study in Scarlet.
It all seems perfectly straightforward. But for the sake of brevity, Watson has telescoped the information, leaving out certain important facts about his medical training. He has said nothing either about his life immediately preceding his entry to London University as a student. Apart from two oblique references elsewhere in the canon, he hardly touches on this period at all. As they are crucial in establishing Watson’s date of birth, it is necessary to examine them in some detail.
In The Sign of Four (1888) Watson remarks, on noticing the heaps of earth dug up by the Sholtos in the grounds of Pondicherry Lodge: ‘I have seen something of the sort in the side of a hill near Ballarat, where the prospectors have been at work.’
This is a reference to the gold-prospecting town of Ballarat in Victoria, south-east Australia. It is quite clear Watson has been there. But when? Some commentators have suggested he was taken to Australia as a child. This, however, is unlikely.
Also in The Sign of Four, Watson, who regarded himself as something of a ladies’ man, makes another revealing comment. He states that his ‘experience of women’ extended over ‘three separate continents’, by which he must mean Europe (England), Asia (India) and Australia, the only parts of the world of which at that time, 1888, he had any personal knowledge. It is unlikely he is referring to a childhood experience of women. As the remark is made on his first meeting with Miss Mary Morstan, to whom he was strongly attracted, it is clear from the context that this experience was gained when he was of an age to appreciate the charms of the opposite sex. The only period in his life before 1888 when such a trip to Australia was feasible
was in the years between his leaving school at seventeen or eighteen and enrolling as a medical student. He would then have been old enough to admire a pretty face although, at that stage, his ‘experience’ may not have extended much beyond an adolescent longing or a mild flirtation. Watson was always a little prone to exaggeration.
As we have already seen, Watson had a love of adventure and it was no doubt this urge which prompted him to set off for Australia on leaving school. He may even have been attracted by the possibilities of becoming a gold prospector himself, which would explain why he visited Ballarat. Whether or not this was the case, he may, like many other school-leavers, have wanted to travel abroad before settling down to further studies.
In The Sign of Four, Holmes remarks that Watson’s father had been dead for many years. If he died about 1870, the approximate date of this Australian adventure, Watson may have inherited enough money from his father to finance the trip. The time gap of eighteen years accords with Holmes’ remark.
The question of Watson’s date of birth hinges on this visit to Australia. The voyage took about two months by sea: four if one counts the return trip. Watson must therefore have been away for at least a year, possibly two, otherwise the trip was hardly worth the time and expense. If Watson left England at the age of seventeen or eighteen, he was aged between eighteen and twenty when he returned to England and began his medical studies.
As we shall see later in the chapter, Watson spent at least six years before qualifying as a doctor in 1878. This would place his date of birth between 1852 and 1854, the more likely being either the year 1852 or 1853.* He gives the impression of being a year or two older than Holmes, although this is an entirely subjective judgement.
We shall assume therefore that Watson entered medical school in 1872 at the age of nineteen or twenty.
The Medical Act of 1858 prohibited anyone from using the title of physician, surgeon, doctor or apothecary without holding a licence from one of the appropriate corporations: the Royal College of Surgeons, the Royal College of Physicians or the Society of Apothecaries. As Watson later practised both as a surgeon and a general practitioner, he must, at the very least, have qualified as a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons (MRCS) and, in order to prescribe medicines for his patients as a GP, must also have passed as a Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries (LSA), in addition to holding a medical degree (MD). It is less likely that he was also a Member of the Royal College of Physicians (MRCP). Most GPs at that time held only two licences, the minimum required. This agrees with the rather unkind comment Holmes makes in ‘The Adventure of the Dying Detective’ on Watson’s medical qualifications, which he describes as ‘mediocre’.
Watson would have had to sit an entrance examination before being accepted as a student at London University and, having passed, would have registered both with the university and also with the General Medical Council. Once these formalities were completed, he was then free to attend the medical school of his choice, in his case St Bartholomew’s Hospital.
Bart’s, as it is affectionately known, is one of the oldest hospitals in the world. Founded in 1123 by Rahere, an attendant at the court of Henry I,* it still occupies its original site in West Smithfield where it was established as a hospital for the poor. In Watson’s time it retained its charitable status, relying on donations from wealthy sponsors.
Although much has changed since the day when Watson first entered its gates, he would still recognise parts of it – as would Holmes, too, for that matter – in particular the church of St Bartholomew the Less and the square with its trees and central fountain. He could well have strolled here between lectures, enjoying a quiet cigar. But the old chemistry laboratory has gone: so, too, has the original Pathological Museum where Watson studied the anatomical specimens and perhaps shared a table with Holmes.
At that time, the basic course for an MD was four years, ten months of which had to be spent on the wards. In addition, students spent further time preparing for the examinations which would qualify them for membership of the professional medical corporations.
The early career of Frederick Treves, the doctor who later befriended Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man,* demonstrates this clearly. Although he studied at the London Hospital, his training would have been similar to Watson’s. Having taken his MD in 1873, Treves then sat for the licence of the Society of Apothecaries in 1874 and, in the following year, on passing the examination, became an MRCS. As he practised as a GP as well as a surgeon, we can see how closely his career parallels Watson’s.† Like Treves, Watson almost certainly took his MD first, in his case in 1876, before going on to qualify as an LSA and an MRCS, a fact which, in his abbreviated account of his medical training, he has failed to make clear, lumping all his qualifications together under the general title of MD. It was probably in 1878 that he was accepted by the General Medical Council as a fully qualified doctor, licensed to practise.
The first part of Watson’s course at Bart’s consisted of lectures given by the hospital’s physicians and surgeons, and anatomy demonstrations in the dissecting room. As we have seen, Holmes may well have attended some of these classes, which was when their paths could have first crossed.
Once the introductory courses were completed, the student then went on to study medicine and surgery, observing operations and accompanying the consultants on their rounds of the hospital wards.
Students were required to pass an interim examination in anatomy, physiology, botany and materia medica.* The final examination in their fourth year covered advanced studies in these subjects as well as the principles and practice of medicine and surgery.
In order to qualify as an LSA and an MRCS, students had then to take further courses in chemistry, including practical chemistry, forensic medicine, the theory and practice of medicine and surgery, midwifery and hospital practice. Holmes may also have enrolled for some of these classes, in particular those on chemistry and anatomy, subjects in which he had a special interest.
Like Holmes, Watson’s time was not spent entirely on study. There were diversions; in Watson’s case, rugby. Although it is not known in which position he played, he was good enough at the game to be accepted by Blackheath Football Club, the oldest open rugby club in the world. In Watson’s time, the club had no ground of its own and matches were played on the heath, with the spectators occasionally encroaching on the field. Watson almost certainly played under the captaincy of Lennard Stokes, considered by some the best drop-kick in rugby football. Stokes, who won twelve international caps, was studying medicine at Guy’s Hospital and several other players were, like Watson, medical students.
Watson’s physique suited him for the game. According to a subsequent description, unwittingly passed on by Inspector Lestrade when Watson was mistaken for an escaping burglar, he was a ‘middle-sized, strongly-built man’ with a ‘square jaw’ and a ‘thick neck’. At the time of this description, he also sported a small moustache, although this may be a later addition to his appearance.
Watson may have had lodgings at Blackheath. If so, it would explain an otherwise puzzling remark he makes in The Sign of Four regarding his own ‘limited knowledge of London’. Considering that at the time he had spent at least seven years in London at Bart’s Hospital, the admission seems strange unless he had lived somewhere on the outskirts and travelled into town every day. This was perfectly possible even from as far away as Blackheath. There was a regular train service from there to London Bridge station, from where he could have caught a dark green Bayswater omnibus which ran close to Bart’s.
In his last year as a medical student, Watson was required to serve at least three months as a dresser to one of the hospital surgeons, treating patients on the wards under the consultant’s supervision.
Watson’s career at Bart’s seems to have been average. He apparently won none of the prizes offered to the more promising students, unlike Dr Percy Trevelyan (‘The Adventure of the Resident Patient’), also a former London University man, w
ho was awarded the Bruce Pinkerton medal for his monograph on nervous lesions while at King’s College Hospital’s medical school. Nevertheless, Watson passed his examinations and was offered a post as house surgeon at Bart’s. House surgeons usually served for a year only, six months as a junior, six as a senior. Again, Watson makes no reference to this part of his career but the fact that he had his own dresser, Stamford, puts it beyond doubt.
The post of house surgeon was a lowly one with long hours and poor pay. Dr James Mortimer (The Hound of the Baskervilles), himself a ‘humble MRCS’, as he terms it, had served as a house surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital and as such was ‘little more than a senior student’, to use Holmes’ rather dismissive comment.
At the end of his year’s service as house surgeon, Watson was faced with a crucial decision about his future career: what should he do next? In order to set up in private practice, he needed capital which he did not possess, a dilemma also faced by Dr Percy Trevelyan, although he was lucky enough to find a wealthy backer.
On the other hand, he could remain in hospital service, although this had its own disadvantages. Hospitals then employed only four consulting surgeons and, as a consequence, promotion was slow. Watson might have to wait until he was in his forties before a senior post became vacant. He would also be required to qualify as a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons (FRCS). Watson may have realised that, as he was no academic high-flyer, he had better turn his sights elsewhere.
