Part 5

Several welcome allusions are made to the odors of flowers or of vegetation. The scent of flowers, gardens, greenhouses, trees, meadows, swamps, and the decay of autumn leaves often bring back memories of other times and places. In _The Naval Treaty_, we find “... the rich scent of the garden ...”; and in _A Study in Scarlet_, we read of “... the balsamic odours of the pine trees....” All of us have experienced the refreshing and delightful odors of a flower garden, and those who have been in the north, or in the mountains in almost any latitude, remember with pleasure the clean smell of the evergreen trees. In _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_, our attention is called to the scent of thyme on the downs. I am sure that to many people the faintly exotic aroma of thyme (which belongs to the mint family) is enjoyable.

Some plants have a distinctly heavy, cloying odor--for example, certain lilies. The effect produced may actually be unpleasant. Dr. Watson, in describing a greenhouse, brings this out (_The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton_). He speaks of the heavy fragrance of certain plants which actually causes a choking sensation. The odor of decayed plants arising from the treacherous Grimpen Mire is emphasized in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. Most of us are familiar with the miasmic vapors which often arise from swampland. Presumably, everyone has his own favorite odor. Some people enjoy the exquisite fragrance of the rose, some that of the carnation, and others the faint and delicate odor of the sweet pea. The city dweller who was raised in the country may yearn for the sweet smell of newly mown hay, and, strangely enough, may even long for the pungent ammoniacal smell of the barnyard.

Throughout the tales, we find mention of bracken, bramble, bushes, ferns, gorse, heather, hedges, laurel, lichens, rhododendron, shrubs, and vines. We have already alluded to many of these. To my knowledge, in only one instance is there a reference to blood-stained vegetation indicating that a murder might have been committed. We find, in _The Adventure of the Priory School_, that Holmes, to the horror of Watson, held up some flowering gorse which was blood-stained. The surrounding heather, too, showed evidence of old blood stains. It will be remembered that these were found on the spot where the unfortunate German master of the Priory School had met his death.

Everyone interested in Sherlock Holmes will vividly recall the meeting between Holmes and Professor Moriarty on the brink of the falls of the Reichenbach. Dr. Watson inspected the spot shortly after the meeting:

A few yards from the end the soil was all ploughed up into a patch of mud, and the brambles and ferns which fringed the chasm were torn and bedraggled.

_The Final Problem_

The patches of mud and torn vegetation gave clear evidence of what had taken place on the edge of the falls. We learn later, of course--much to our surprise and satisfaction--that Holmes had, by his superior skill, triumphed over his arch enemy. The meeting marked the end of Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime.

Dr. Watson’s many allusions to botany give added charm to the tales, and indicate not only his love for the flora of England but also his zest for nature.

THE SURGICAL DOCTOR WATSON

“... the thin white hand he laid on the mantelpiece ... was that of an artist rather than of a surgeon.”

_The Resident Patient_

Dr. Watson professed to be a general practitioner of medicine. Such a person is called upon from time to time to do minor, but under ordinary conditions he does not attempt to do major, surgery. To my knowledge, there is no particular reference to major surgery in any of the tales, although one or two famous surgeons are mentioned. On the other hand, numerous allusions are made to minor surgery. I am cognizant of the fact that there is often but a thin line between major and minor surgery.

Dr. Watson evidently felt that a good surgeon must have large and supple hands, for he writes: “... the thin white hand he laid on the mantelpiece ... was that of an artist rather than a surgeon” (_The Resident Patient_). The size of the hand probably is not of major importance. It is the ability to use the hands that counts. Several eminent surgeons, to my own knowledge, are men of large physical stature, and I am sure have correspondingly large hands. But I have seen some equally capable men, hardly of average height, who had small hands. Harvey Cushing, the brilliant Harvard brain surgeon, was a man of medium size, and, if I recall correctly, had rather small hands. Let us not labor this point further, for this is not an essay on surgeons’ hands, but turn to the tales of Sherlock Holmes.

It is axiomatic that every man who practices medicine, regardless of his specialty, must be familiar with the current literature in his field. It is gratifying that Dr. Watson appreciated this. In _The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_, Watson observes that one stormy night he and Holmes sat together in silence; the latter was working on a palimpsest, while Watson was reading a treatise on surgery.

Holmes appreciated that a correct diagnosis is of paramount importance to a conscientious surgeon. In _The Problem of Thor Bridge_, we find Mr. Neil Gibson, the “Gold King,” telling Holmes that he was like a surgeon, because Holmes wanted to know every symptom before he ventured a diagnosis. Holmes quickly retorted that this was quite true, and strongly implied that his client was withholding important information which Holmes needed before the mystery about which he was being consulted could be solved.

There are a number of references to scalp wounds or injuries to the skull, or both. In the rough-and-tumble life a detective leads, it might be expected that he would often see such injuries. Let us examine some of them.

Once Sherlock Holmes himself came under a surgeon’s care. The great detective had been attacked on the street by two ruffians and had been pretty roughly handled (_The Adventure of the Illustrious Client_). Sir Leslie Oakshot, the eminent London surgeon who had been called in, stated that Holmes had suffered lacerations of the scalp and that several stitches were necessary. Holmes fortunately made an uneventful recovery, and we learn that the stitches were taken out on the seventh day.

Dr. Watson describes a man in _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_ who had suffered a severe scalp wound. He had been found unconscious, although the bones of the skull had not been penetrated. Another case is mentioned which surely must puzzle the layman (_The Adventure of the Dancing Men_). A bullet passed through the frontal portion of the brain. The reader is assured that, although the patient was unconscious, she would live. The medically trained person would think immediately of an accidental lobotomy.

One is reminded in this connection of the skull of a workman exhibited in the museum of the Harvard Medical School. This rare specimen shows an enormous hole made by a tamping bar. The bar passed through the skull, and a considerable amount of brain substance was destroyed. Remarkably enough, the patient did not die from this terrific injury, but lived for a long time afterward--surely a most unusual case. It should be added that he suffered an unfortunate change in his personality following the accident.

In several instances, the head injuries mentioned were immediately fatal. For example, in _The Adventure of the Empty House_, an expanding revolver bullet was fired into the victim’s head. In _The Boscombe Valley Mystery_, we find that: “The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon.” In this last story, Dr. Watson gets technical: “In the surgeon’s deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon.” But contrast the following nontechnical description: “The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was found to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his head, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt weapon” (_The Crooked Man_). This is a good example of a wound so simply described that anyone could easily understand and appreciate it. With few exceptions, Watson never forgot that he was writing for laymen.

Scalp wounds and injuries to the head are often used to dramatize detective stories. The average layman instinctively feels that such wounds are extraordinarily dangerous, and that people experiencing such accidents are nearly always in a critical state. This, of course, may or may not be true, because nature has provided a strong bony cage to protect the brain.

In _The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_, there occurs a reference concerning an orthopedic problem. Dr. Watson writes that the gait of a fifteen-year-old boy suggested plainly that he had a weak spine. We are further informed that a fall in childhood had brought about this condition. The devoted father spoke of the lad as being an unfortunate cripple and quite inoffensive. He was quite mistaken, for this so-called inoffensive lad became so insanely jealous of his normal, healthy baby half-brother that he tried to do away with him by use of curare, the South American Indian arrow poison. When Holmes unearthed this diabolic scheme, he reluctantly informed the boy’s unsuspecting father. Holmes prefaced his remarks by stating that he was a busy man and would come to the point quickly; and he used the simile that, the swifter surgery is done, the less painful it is.

The idea Holmes expressed in regard to swift surgery holds our interest. In the early days, before the discovery of ether, surgeons for obvious reasons attempted to perform operations in the shortest possible time. Indeed, the skill of a surgeon was largely gauged by the speed with which he could perform an operation.

In at least two of the tales, the carotid artery was the focal point of interest. In _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_, we find that when Professor Presbury was viciously attacked by his wolfhound, the teeth of the dog narrowly missed the carotid artery. In spite of the rather severe hemorrhage which followed, it will be recalled that the professor recovered. In _The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_, the victim was not as lucky. His carotid had been severed by an old-fashioned sealing-wax knife, and death ensued in a short time. Watson emphasized that the wound was small but deep. He was aware that a large blunt instrument might have pushed the elastic artery aside rather than piercing it.

We find one reference to an amputation, although it was not performed by a surgeon. Early one morning, there appeared in Dr. Watson’s consultation room a young engineer who, during the preceding night, had undergone a harrowing experience in which his thumb had been hacked off by a vicious counterfeiter. The doctor was astounded when he saw the wound: “It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding fingers and a horrid, red, spongy surface where the thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right from the roots” (_The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb_).

When Dr. Watson asked the victim whether the wound had bled a great deal, the answer was: “Yes, it did.... I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly around the wrist and braced it up with a twig.” Watson’s succinct reply was: “Excellent. You should have been a surgeon.” To satisfy the reader’s sympathetic curiosity, it should be mentioned that Dr. Watson gave the patient a drink of brandy, and cleansed and bandaged the wound. Since the thumb had been “torn right out from the roots,” it seems that Dr. Watson should have taken a few stitches to bring the cut tissues together. No such mention is made, and it is to be hoped that the wound healed satisfactorily.

It is noteworthy that this engineer must have had a rugged constitution. Dr. Watson, after caring for the wound, took him to 221B Baker Street, where he joined Holmes and Watson in eating a substantial breakfast. Then, for the benefit of the consulting detective, he related the night’s terrible adventure at some length. He next accompanied Holmes and his companions on a train journey to Eyeford, a little Berkshire village. This was a strenuous program. The question arises, why did the kind Watson allow his patient to do all these things? This young man should have received a narcotic to deaden the pain, which must have been severe, and then should have gone to bed. If the patient experienced difficulty in going to sleep, a hypnotic should have been administered. In this instance, Dr. Watson placed himself in an indefensible position.

Let us now turn from injuries of the human flesh and consider something relatively less gruesome. A surgical instrument is described and, interestingly enough, the name of the manufacturer is given. Holmes himself calls our attention to it: “... an ivory-handled knife with a very delicate, inflexible blade marked Weiss & Co., London” (_Silver Blaze_). Parenthetically, it should be stated that Weiss & Co., are still famous makers of knives. Indeed, there are several in my laboratory at the present time.

When Holmes speaks of the singularity of this knife, and suggests to Dr. Watson that surely this was in his line, the latter states, “It is what we call a cataract knife.” Holmes replies, “A very delicate blade devised for very delicate work.” The reader should be reminded that the knife in question was not employed to murder a human being, but a villainous horse trainer had intended to use it to cut the tendon of a famous race horse. It will be remembered that the nefarious scheme was never carried out, for the highly nervous thoroughbred animal killed his trainer by kicking him on the head before the operation could be performed.

As far as I am aware, Watson did not make any specific mention of any other surgical instruments in the tales. He does, however, on one occasion make an allusion to a surgeon’s choice of his instrument during an operation. He is commenting on Holmes’ selection of tools when attempting to open the safe of the notorious blackmailer, Charles Augustus Milverton, and points out that Holmes chose his instruments with the same scientific precision as a surgeon about to perform an important operation (_The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton_).

In the present essay, we have discussed only those cases which are concerned with surgery. But in England the medical man is often spoken of as a “surgeon,” rather than a physician or a doctor or a general practitioner. We find such expressions in the Sherlock Holmes stories: “And here comes the country surgeon ...” (_The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_). Numerous other references could be cited, but this one will suffice. Furthermore, a doctor’s treatment room is spoken of as his “surgery.” This latter expression is often found, especially in English novels. The villain Stapleton, in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, tells Dr. Watson that he had been visiting with Dr. Mortimer, and that while they were in his “surgery,” Dr. Mortimer had pointed out Dr. Watson through the window. In another instance, we find, “The surgery, where I used to make up my drugs ...” (_The Sign of the Four_). In this country, we would simply call it “the doctor’s office,” or if we wanted to be more specific, his “treatment” or “examining room.” These are minor differences, it is true, but they are of passing interest.

Some of the wounds so dramatically described by Dr. Watson surely became severely infected, and the patient’s suffering must have been considerable. Pasteur and Lister had already published the results of their brilliant researches, and the medical profession was well aware of the dangers of infections at the time. In spite of this, not much could be done once the wounds began to suppurate, for the antibiotics had as yet not been discovered. We may rest assured, however, that Dr. Watson did all he could to alleviate the patient’s pain and to promote healing of the wound.

SHERLOCK HOLMES, THE CHEMIST

“A formidable array of bottles and test tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him.”

_The Red-Haired League_

Mention is made from time to time in the tales of certain chemical problems which occupy the attention of the great detective. Moreover, the chemical desk and chemical paraphernalia in the rooms at 221B Baker Street are referred to frequently. Indeed, the reader would be disappointed if they were not mentioned, for he has come to accept them as he has the Persian slipper and the gasogene. Since we are living in an age of chemistry, it is pertinent and timely to review Sherlock Holmes’ interest in this important field. It is, moreover, of certain intellectual and historical interest to examine--even though rather superficially--the status of any phase of chemistry during the last quarter of the past century, or, for that matter, of any period. At the time of which we write, biological chemistry was still in its infancy, but organic chemistry was already an important subject.

In _A Study in Scarlet_, it will be remembered that when Stamford took Dr. Watson to the laboratory of the medical school to meet Sherlock Holmes, they found him working on a chemical problem. So enthusiastic was Holmes that, even before Stamford had had an opportunity to present Watson, Holmes sprang to his feet and cried: “I’ve found it! I’ve found it!... I have found a reagent which is precipitated by hemoglobin, and by nothing else.” He then acknowledged the introduction, and made the famous remark, “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.”

Holmes proceeded next to give a demonstration of his new test:

“Now, I add this small quantity of blood to a litre of water. You perceive that the resulting mixture has the appearance of water. The proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a million. I have no doubt, however, that we shall be able to obtain the characteristic reaction.”

As he spoke, he threw into the vessel a few white crystals, and then added some drops of a transparent fluid. In an instant, the contents assumed a dull mahogany color, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the bottom of the glass jar.

Holmes was so well pleased that he added, “Now we have the Sherlock Holmes’ test....”

At this point a sour note can be injected. Assuming that Holmes did discover a sensitive test for hemoglobin, it was nevertheless not a specific one for human blood. The blood of many animals contains hemoglobin. In a case of murder, for example, if blood were found on a cudgel, a knife, or on the clothing of a suspect, it would still have to be proved that it was human blood. This, incidentally, can now be scientifically shown, but it is a long, delicate procedure.

After Holmes had demonstrated his brilliant experiment, the trio sat down, and Holmes and Watson discussed the possibility of sharing rooms. Holmes volunteered, “I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments.” Parenthetically, it may be stated that Watson on later occasions complained about the odors produced by these experiments. As we know, however, an agreement was reached, and perhaps the two most famous characters in fiction decided to cast their lot together and locate on 221B Baker Street.

The staid Dr. Watson, after living with Holmes several weeks, took it upon himself to make an appraisal of his unusual roommate. His conclusions were that Holmes’ knowledge in certain areas, such as literature, philosophy, and astronomy, was “nil,” but in the field of chemistry, “profound.”

Holmes as a college student had evinced a marked interest in chemistry. When telling Dr. Watson the story of _The “Gloria Scott,”_ his first case, he said: “All this occurred during the first month of the long vacation. I went up to my London rooms, where I spent seven weeks working out a few experiments in organic chemistry.”

Holmes maintained his interest in chemistry throughout the years. In _The Red-Haired League_, Watson describes how he called on Holmes one day: “A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him.” When Watson asked him whether he had reached a solution, Holmes answered in the affirmative, and stated it was the bisulphate of baryta. Watson, evidently disgusted said, “No, no, the mystery.” Holmes’ reply was: “Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.” Today one seldom hears the word “baryta” in this country; we speak of it as “barium.” The bisulphate of baryta, therefore, which Holmes mentioned, becomes barium sulphate.

The hobby of the great detective, it appears, afforded him relaxation, for we find:

“Well, I gave my mind a thorough treat by plunging into a chemical analysis. One of our greatest statesman has said that a change of work is the best rest. So it is. When I had succeeded in dissolving the hydrocarbon which I was at work at, I came back to our problem of the Sholtos, and thought the whole matter out again.”

_The Sign of the Four_

In his later years, Holmes must have missed his chemical experiments; for once, when he was away from home, we find Watson writing that his friend’s temper was on edge because he especially yearned for his chemistry bench and his scrapbook (_The Adventure of the Three Students_).

Holmes was wont at times to announce the results of his chemical researches in a dramatic manner. According to Watson, his hero was not averse to seeking the limelight. We already have seen how Holmes acted when he discovered an agent precipitated only by hemoglobin. He insisted upon telling of his important discovery before giving Stamford an opportunity of presenting Watson. We find another typical example in _The Naval Treaty_:

Holmes was seated at his side-table clad in his dressing-gown, and working hard over a chemical investigation. A large curved retort was boiling furiously in the bluish flame of a Bunsen burner, and the distilled drops were condensing into a two-litre measure. My friend hardly glanced up as I entered, and I, seeing that his investigation must be of importance, seated myself in an armchair and waited. He dipped into this bottle ... and finally brought a test-tube containing a solution over to the table. In his right hand he held a slip of litmus paper.

“You come at a crisis, Watson,” said he. “If this paper remains blue, all is well. If it turns red, it means a man’s life.” He dipped it into the test-tube and it flushed at once into a dull, dirty crimson. “Hum, I thought as much!”

It is hardly necessary to point out that such dramatic chemical discoveries so glibly announced by Holmes are rare, and it is not given to any one individual to find many of them in a lifetime.