Translator's note: This story was posted in 2009 by Shae on a Russian fanfic site, and translated for the Advent challenge on the watsons_woes LJ comm by myself.
(Link to the original work: archiveofourown dot org slash works slash 3211247)
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My second Christmas at Baker Street was marked by my decision to give Holmes a pleasant surprise. The thing is, Holmes has a sweet tooth. Few people know about it: as a rule, Holmes cultivates faults which are far more strange and unacceptable in regular society-for example, his habit of using morphine and other opiates. The penchant for sweets in such a man as my friend might harm his reputation, destroying the image of the hard, stern man who has only harmful habits. To have such an analytical mind and at the same time, to be very fond of chocolate candies… No matter what one says, sweets should have no place in Holmes' life.
I didn't know about his partiality until a memorable evening in Covent Garden. After the performance, we went to a small restaurant nearby, and when Holmes saw the waiter holding a tray of chocolate candies, my friend's eyes lit up and he made a dead-set at them, like a borzoi at a fox. However, he quickly took himself in hand, drank some sherry, and behaved as he usually does for the rest of the evening. The next morning, a parcel containing three dozen of these candies arrived at Baker Street. I am so well informed about that fact because I was the one who gave the delivery boy a sixpence as a tip. Later on, when I started observing my friend's gastronomical preferences more thoroughly, my suspicions were strengthened further.
So, for Holmes' Christmas gift, I ordered a box of truffles to be sent to him-the very best chocolate candies one can find in London. Moreover, it was this variety of candy that Holmes preferred over all other sweets. That was to be the pleasant part. The surprise part was supposed to occur because I sent the chocolates anonymously, thus offering Holmes to deduce who the sender was: even in the criminal world, Christmas is widely celebrated, and, therefore, it's not at all strange that during the holidays, the law is violated far less frequently.
It was a glorious, snowy, and sunny Christmas morning. Holmes was already sitting at the breakfast table, apparently waiting for me, when I came down to the sitting-room. A little to the side of his plate, on the table, I noticed the parcel which I myself had sent two days before, from one of the post offices near London. The wrapping paper was torn nearly open, but the box itself remained sealed.
"Good morning, Holmes!" I greeted him and handed him my non-anonymous gift: a tobacco pouch. (Yes, this story took place back in those olden times, when I believed the Persian slipper to be only a dispensable touch in my friend's portrait.) Having received an encyclopedia of medicinal herbs, with colour illustrations, in return, I started on my breakfast, and Holmes followed my example.
After we satisfied our hunger thanks to Mrs Hudson's efforts (and it must be noted that her efforts were impressive: the consomme was wonderful), I took a chance by drawing Holmes' attention to the candy box. However, he replied:
"I am certainly not going to eat any of these candies. Because they are poisoned. Most likely, they contain arsenic. As a rule, arsenic is the poison used specifically in chocolates."
I am sure that you, reader, can understand that I was puzzled at first, and then, indignant. However, I put great effort into remaining calm.
"But why is that, Holmes? It is a gift, and the candies are likely to be delicious. They are certainly not anything like asparagus, which you cannot stand."
"Because I do not know who sent them. And if the sender didn't exert enough effort to sign his name, then he has something to conceal. No, no, Watson, better safe than sorry. I never use-let alone consume as a foodstuff-something that was sent anonymously. Consider it my method of staying alive."
"All right then," this conversation was making me quite angry. Such remarks completely destroy any inclination to give presents. "All right. I'm going to eat one of these candies right now, and you'll be able to see that there is no poison in them whatsoever; they are perfectly safe and suitable for dessert." Saying these words, I picked up one of the candies and almost put it in my mouth, when Holmes grabbed my wrist. I dropped the candy.
"You know what, Watson? I shall show you a...trick. I think it will visually demonstrate to you the validity of my position. Let's go."
Taking the candies with us, we walked to the far end of the sitting-room, in which Mrs Hudson had kindly allowed Holmes to conduct his experiments in return for the promise that my friend would never conduct such experiments there that could have a negative effect on the health and well-being of the inhabitants of the house number 221 on Baker Street.
I have never before been present at one of Holmes' experiments, and what I now saw only reinforced my opinion that he was a meticulous and well-informed researcher. Everything to the least trifle was well-thought out here: a comfortable small table, a gas lamp, small drawers and sacks with contents unknown to me. Shelves with retorts, flasks, and test tubes were all also within reach, which, doubtless, is convenient for someone who is used to always working alone.
"Oh, I see you have an excellent laboratory!" I exclaimed. "You're a knowledgeable chemist."
"How shall I say it… Of course, the greater part of my life I devoted to the study of chemistry," replied the detective. "Chemistry and criminology are indivisible, friend Watson. Come sit over here, please."
Holmes offered me an old but comfortable armchair as the observation post. Then he began taking all kinds of jars, flasks, tubes and a Bunsen burner down from the shelves-apparently, with the help of all this equipment, he intended to convince me that his stance was correct.
Nonetheless, despite being rather miffed at my friend, I was extremely interested. And I also appreciated the fact that Holmes invited me into his sanctum sanctorum.
"Well then, my dear Watson, to detect arsenic in those sweets, which, in your opinion, are absolutely harmless ones, we will use the Marsh method. Or, using its classic name, the Marsh-Liebich-Berzelius method. First of all, we need an apparatus for obtaining hydrogen. That is a regular flask, into which I'm going to pour some sulfuric acid and add a small piece of zinc. See, it's producing hydrogen. Now, if we add arsenic or any of its compounds, it will form AsH3-hydrogen arsenate. From this flask, the gas moves to this tube with calcium chloride, for drying. Naturally, the calcium chloride powder must be dry… Then the gas moves to this narrow tube. We heat up the gas using the Bunsen burner, and it breaks down into hydrogen and pure arsenic. And then the arsenic precipitates onto the walls of the tube as a shiny greyish black layer-the so-called arsenic mirror…
I suppose you have probably not heard of this experiment before, despite your medical education.
I shook my head 'no', and Holmes continued,
"That is not surprising: the Marsh method is used almost exclusively in forensic medicine." Saying those words, Holmes lit the Bunsen burner. And I suddenly felt that I, too, now shared Holmes' conviction that the candy I sent contains poison.
Silence reigned in the room. We both eagerly awaited the results of the experiment.
At first, nothing happened, and I was already prepared to greet the minutes of my triumph with a smile, when waviness appeared on the walls of the flask, and I saw that the walls became greyish-black. There was the arsenic mirror in my gift.
Holmes extinguished the Bunsen burner and regarded me closely.
"Well, what did I tell you? Now are you convinced that it's not a good idea to eat candy sent by unknown persons?"
I felt crushed. Leaping up from my armchair, I made the attempt to at least somehow explain my prior action, which was suddenly revealed to be such an abominable one.
"Holmes," I began, but my tongue would not obey me, and I had to start over. "Holmes, you must know: I am the one who sent you these candies. I simply happened to notice that you like them, and I didn't want to let you know that I was aware of something you most likely consider a weakness. Holmes, but I didn't fill them with arsenic!" I couldn't understand why and how arsenic could have gotten into the candies, which were supposed to have been a very ordinary, very innocent present.
My horror must have shown on my face, because Holmes gently pushed down on my shoulders and sat me in the armchair.
"I must ask your pardon, my dear Watson, for all this performance with the candies. I have long ago noticed your interest in my diet, and at first, I thought that you wanted to influence my tastes in some way. You know, to teach me to adhere to a healthier lifestyle," Holmes snorted. "Later, having put together certain facts, I realized that you were interested exclusively in my desserts, and my opinion was confirmed after a conversation with Mrs Hudson. Frankly speaking, I was expecting to receive this kind of gift from you, and was almost certain that you wouldn't sign the box. I...Watson, forgive me. I substituted the candies in your box. It was not because I wanted to humiliate you, my dear friend-please believe me, that wasn't the reason! With this escapade, I merely wanted to show you how unacceptable the thought of accepting anonymous gifts is to me.
A strained silence fell. I must confess I hardly knew what to say. To some extent, I felt offended by what Holmes had done, but at the same time, given I had been Holmes' fellow-lodger for several years by that time, and had participated in the famous detective's dangerous adventures many a time, should have thought how much he would dislike receiving an anonymous letter. Yes, that was a palpable blow to my conceit.
Nonetheless, it was a glorious Christmas morning, and we returned to the holiday table. Mrs Hudson brought the teapot, and, having drunk some tea and eaten some candies, Holmes and I agreed on the opinion that candies sent without the name and address of the sender being marked do not always conceal a threat in the form of arsenic. However, sincerity between friends goes above all.
A/N: This is the author's postcriptum:
"This text does not claim to be true or serious, nor does the author claim to be an expert in Canon. This story was intended to be humorous, and it remains humorous to this day. The author obtained the idea for this story (along with the description of the Marsh method) from the biography of Karl Blumquist-a detective no less brilliant than Sherlock Holmes, but far less famous.
Also, I do know that Holmes performed his experiments right in the sitting-room, but several years ago, when I was writing this story, this fact had slipped my mind (how awkward!). I have tried to revise the text so as to get rid of the basement, but somehow it didn't sound right, and I have left everything as is."