Throughout my years of friendship and partnership with Sherlock
Holmes, I have been witness to many surprising features of this
extraordinary man. His talents in deduction have of course been recorded in
these annals countless times, and his many exploits have been told to the
world. On this occasion, however, I find I must tell the singular
experience in which Holmes had a few mysteries of his own that I was left
to unravel. Once unraveled, however, they proved to be quite fruitful and
surprising. While also being an excellent example of his amazing talents,
my tale also is an excellent example of the character of the man himself,
as well as grounds for some shocking revelations.
Holmes and I were seated in the sitting room on a comfortable Wednesday morning. The weather was fair, the breakfast exceedingly superb, and I was inclined to simply bask in the pleasures of the fine day. Holmes, however, was not exactly keen on my suggestion.
"You are quite a contradictory fellow, Watson." He chuckled after I had been vegetating in my armchair for quite some time. "One morning you beg my accompaniment on a fine walk, another you beg for my atrophy in an armchair."
"Certainly there is no harm in staying here, Holmes. You have no case." I replied evenly. Holmes laughed again.
"I must argue with you upon that score, Watson. I believe I hear the sound of the bell, and our dear Mrs. Hudson greeting the lady that comes to call." I immediately straightened up.
"Why, Watson," Holmes said, standing up to stretch. "You become quite spry when a lady is mentioned." I was ready to retort to his light-hearted teasing when the door opened.
"Doctor Abigail Montand, gentlemen." The lady who stepped into our rooms was of a striking nature. She was quite beautiful, with bright red tresses and piercing green eyes. She was impeccably dressed, and her bearing, the way she held her head up high, showed that she was not a woman to be trifled with. One of the upper class feminists who were comfortable in their place yet strove to achieve equality. And yet the unexpected title of Doctor ultimately dispelled that notion. A woman? A Doctor? I found myself unable to reason anything about her. But Sherlock Holmes was immediately able to discern a good many things about her, as shown from the curious and interested way he gazed at her. Why he hesitated for a moment in silence before addressing her I do not know, but at length he said:
"Welcome madam. I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my associate Doctor Watson. I see you share a profession." She smiled graciously at me.
"Indeed we do, though I highly doubt that your career parallels mine. I'm a retired army surgeon."
"While you, Miss Montand, conduct your practice in Gravesend?" The lady raised her eyebrow at my friend.
"You are quite correct Mr. Holmes. How did you come to know that?" From my friend's wry smile, I could see that he was favorably impressed with the manner and bearing of this woman, which was quite something from his misogynist attitude towards the fair sex. He waved his hand in a flippant manner.
"Mere analysis, madam. From your complexion, one can see that you are used to long and frequent walks along sun-lit roads. One can further see that the roads in question are in Gravesend. The dark soil upon your shoes is quite distinctive." We seated ourselves, and Holmes chuckled lightly to himself.
"If I really wished to amaze you, I would tell you that you write heavily in a study day after day, garner quite a bit of money and influence from your practice, and have a son who plays the piano." At Holmes' last words the lady's face fell, shifting from that of a charming debutante to that of a concerned woman.
"It is my son which brings me here today, Mr. Holmes." At this Holmes sat up in his seat, his eyes scrutinizing.
"What do you mean, madam?" I inquired.
"My fifteen year old son, gentlemen, has gone missing." She said cautiously, as if she expected some great reaction out of one of us. Holmes frowned.
"Why do you come to me three days after his appearance? I fear that places a very serious handicap upon your case!" His voice was stern and angry, and I eyed him disapprovingly.
"The train ticket I see in your hand, madam, is 3 days old. Ergo, you have been in London at the very least three days, and yet today you come to me." While I was amazed at his deductions, I thought surely he could be more the suave, professional he was known to be in such matters. The Doctor did not seem to notice his fantastic deduction however, and stood her ground.
"My son is adventurous, Mr. Holmes, and at times foolhardy. There were many easily explainable situations he could have placed himself in, and I did not wish to be over hasty. I have made my own inquiries into his disappearance, and, having come up short, I have come to you." Her voice was as cool as ice, challenging, almost daring Holmes to reply. He sighed, settling back into his chair.
"Perhaps, madam, you might furnish us with your life leading up to your son's appearance." I said, trying to ease the tension in the room. She nodded.
"My name then, as you have heard in Doctor Abigail Montand. I prefer my title, for I worked long and hard to attain it."
"Surely Madam, such a feat was championed by your illustrious family name. The Montands are out of London's highest circles, I believe?" Holmes murmured.
"They are, however my ambitions were not kindly accepted. I am afraid I was quite disowned before my father died."
"And your mother?"
"She died at my birth, and my father not very long after. My elder sister inherited the estate, and I was left to my studies." Holmes nodded, almost in a disinterested manner, as if he had heard all the information before.
"Where did you study, Doctor?"
"I managed to ease my way into Cambridge, and even after all my dedicated years of study, they waited almost a year after to award my degree to me. When my dear uncle died about the same time, he left his estate in Gravesend to me, and it was there in which I set up my practice. It was hard going at first. Most of the neighborhood carried the same view of the world; that a woman simply could not be a competent Doctor. However, at length I was accepted, and now enjoy a tidy practice."
"That's most commendable." Indeed it was no easy feat she had mastered. But I realized that the lady before me was anything but ordinary. Holmes' eyes opened, looking thoughtful for a moment. They then rested about the Doctor, bright and mischievous.
"And your son?"
"My son's name is John. And as you have said he is an-"
"No no, his attributes may come later. I was inquiring as to how he was born." The lady drew herself up, glaring at Holmes murderously.
"That sir, is a highly impertinent question."
"If I am to find the boy, Doctor Montand, I must not be ignorant to his past." She sighed; an angry, passionate glare still fixed on Holmes.
"His father was a very loathsome creature. Our marriage was not a happy one."
"Perhaps it is he who has-" The lady interrupted my statement with a shake of her head.
"No Doctor. John's father is dead, having drunken himself into an early grave. The boy has no recollection of him and hopefully will never follow in his footsteps."
"My condolences." I murmured uncertainly. The lady scoffed, smiling softly.
"Not at all doctor. Quite honestly I am glad to be rid of the man. He played so small a part in my life that I was loath to mention him." Holmes' eyebrow raised and he stared at the Doctor. She met his gaze equally. Finally, with a small laugh, she settled into his chair again.
"You have made your position quite clear to me. Pray proceed to your tale of his disappearance."
"I fear I have little to give you, Mr. Holmes. It was on Tuesday evening that I discovered his absence. I had just returned from my rounds and entered the house. He did not respond to my calls. I went to his room and found it to be locked. I opened it with my key. The room was entirely empty. All the windows were fastened and shut. I then made a thorough search of the house and asked the housekeeper after him. She reported nothing, and I could not find any trace of him. As I began to think on my son's disposition, I realized that perhaps it was not as malicious as my mind was imagining it to be."
"And what is your son's disposition?"
"John is young, but mature and very intelligent. He makes very reasonable decisions and never does anything without a definite reason. However, at times he is, as I have said, headstrong and foolhardy. He often disappears without an explanation and returns to my scolding without a hair out of place." I laughed.
"Sounds like you Holmes." For a moment, Holmes stared at me. His expression was something I could not quite put my finger on- perhaps, alarm? No that could not be it. Finally, he laughed softly.
"Well this does present a good many features of interest. Did the boy have any letters? Friends, family, anything?" For a moment the lady hesitated, her green eyes downcast to the floor.
"Anything at all can help, Doctor." I said gently. She raised her head, staring at Holmes almost suspiciously.
"No sir. He receives no letters."
"And had you any callers whilst you were away on your rounds? Patients, anyone?" She shook her head pitifully, and I could see that, despite this lady's strong accomplishments, her bravery and her tenacity, she was a mother who loved her son dearly, and his disappearance was taking its toll on her. Even now, I could see the barely suppressed worry in her eyes, and her frowning countenance showed that this was not her natural state. She seemed a woman unaccustomed to black moods, and the downward turn her lips made was hardly the smiles they seemed used to. Holmes sighed, and he leaned forward, giving her a suave, reassuring smile.
"Have no fears madam. We shall surely find him." The look of relief that passed over her face was wonderful.
"You will help me then?" Holmes' face instantly became outraged. Shock, dismay, and surprise seemed to flare up in them. For what reason I had no idea.
"Holmes?" He either did not hear me or ignored my comment, for his angry response to her was barely veiled with calmness.
"Why, madam, of course I shall. Why on earth would I not?" For the first time, Doctor Montand's head bowed, in concession and acquiescence.
"Forgive me. I had not though such a small problem would even be noticed by such an eminent man." Although she appeared to concede, her tone hardly matched her face. She said her apology in a voice of sarcasm and justification. Holmes drew himself up, clearing his throat.
"Not at all, madam. You may return to Gravesend now, and the good Doctor and I shall call upon you in an hour or so, hopefully to solve this little mystery." She nodded and rose.
"Until the afternoon then, gentlemen."
"Goodbye Doctor." I murmured, staring after her as she left the room.
"Farewell, madam." Holmes muttered before seating himself back into his chair with a sigh. I was nothing but perplexed. Holmes' reactions had been so inexplicable, so strange. And the lady's even more so. But I reasoned, there were logical explanations for both. The lady's I could put down to her agitated state. Holmes' I could put down to his own strange nature. And so I wiped any contrary ideas from my mind, and sat myself down next to him.
"Well Holmes. Seems a very murky business."
"Indeed, Watson. It does have intriguing qualities." He murmured unceremoniously. Whilst I could explain everything else, I could not explain his manner towards the case. It seemed as though the case really did not interest him, as though the details of it were not as interesting as he had said them to be. It was as if he had another reason for taking on the case. But what other reason could there be? While my mind struggled over it, Holmes interrupted me with his thoughts.
"It is interesting how the boy seems to have vanished into thin air."
"Yes. All the windows and doors fastened? What could have happened to him?"
"I know not Watson. However, if you will be so good as to check the times of the train and ring for a cab, we shall soon find out.".
Holmes and I were seated in the sitting room on a comfortable Wednesday morning. The weather was fair, the breakfast exceedingly superb, and I was inclined to simply bask in the pleasures of the fine day. Holmes, however, was not exactly keen on my suggestion.
"You are quite a contradictory fellow, Watson." He chuckled after I had been vegetating in my armchair for quite some time. "One morning you beg my accompaniment on a fine walk, another you beg for my atrophy in an armchair."
"Certainly there is no harm in staying here, Holmes. You have no case." I replied evenly. Holmes laughed again.
"I must argue with you upon that score, Watson. I believe I hear the sound of the bell, and our dear Mrs. Hudson greeting the lady that comes to call." I immediately straightened up.
"Why, Watson," Holmes said, standing up to stretch. "You become quite spry when a lady is mentioned." I was ready to retort to his light-hearted teasing when the door opened.
"Doctor Abigail Montand, gentlemen." The lady who stepped into our rooms was of a striking nature. She was quite beautiful, with bright red tresses and piercing green eyes. She was impeccably dressed, and her bearing, the way she held her head up high, showed that she was not a woman to be trifled with. One of the upper class feminists who were comfortable in their place yet strove to achieve equality. And yet the unexpected title of Doctor ultimately dispelled that notion. A woman? A Doctor? I found myself unable to reason anything about her. But Sherlock Holmes was immediately able to discern a good many things about her, as shown from the curious and interested way he gazed at her. Why he hesitated for a moment in silence before addressing her I do not know, but at length he said:
"Welcome madam. I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my associate Doctor Watson. I see you share a profession." She smiled graciously at me.
"Indeed we do, though I highly doubt that your career parallels mine. I'm a retired army surgeon."
"While you, Miss Montand, conduct your practice in Gravesend?" The lady raised her eyebrow at my friend.
"You are quite correct Mr. Holmes. How did you come to know that?" From my friend's wry smile, I could see that he was favorably impressed with the manner and bearing of this woman, which was quite something from his misogynist attitude towards the fair sex. He waved his hand in a flippant manner.
"Mere analysis, madam. From your complexion, one can see that you are used to long and frequent walks along sun-lit roads. One can further see that the roads in question are in Gravesend. The dark soil upon your shoes is quite distinctive." We seated ourselves, and Holmes chuckled lightly to himself.
"If I really wished to amaze you, I would tell you that you write heavily in a study day after day, garner quite a bit of money and influence from your practice, and have a son who plays the piano." At Holmes' last words the lady's face fell, shifting from that of a charming debutante to that of a concerned woman.
"It is my son which brings me here today, Mr. Holmes." At this Holmes sat up in his seat, his eyes scrutinizing.
"What do you mean, madam?" I inquired.
"My fifteen year old son, gentlemen, has gone missing." She said cautiously, as if she expected some great reaction out of one of us. Holmes frowned.
"Why do you come to me three days after his appearance? I fear that places a very serious handicap upon your case!" His voice was stern and angry, and I eyed him disapprovingly.
"The train ticket I see in your hand, madam, is 3 days old. Ergo, you have been in London at the very least three days, and yet today you come to me." While I was amazed at his deductions, I thought surely he could be more the suave, professional he was known to be in such matters. The Doctor did not seem to notice his fantastic deduction however, and stood her ground.
"My son is adventurous, Mr. Holmes, and at times foolhardy. There were many easily explainable situations he could have placed himself in, and I did not wish to be over hasty. I have made my own inquiries into his disappearance, and, having come up short, I have come to you." Her voice was as cool as ice, challenging, almost daring Holmes to reply. He sighed, settling back into his chair.
"Perhaps, madam, you might furnish us with your life leading up to your son's appearance." I said, trying to ease the tension in the room. She nodded.
"My name then, as you have heard in Doctor Abigail Montand. I prefer my title, for I worked long and hard to attain it."
"Surely Madam, such a feat was championed by your illustrious family name. The Montands are out of London's highest circles, I believe?" Holmes murmured.
"They are, however my ambitions were not kindly accepted. I am afraid I was quite disowned before my father died."
"And your mother?"
"She died at my birth, and my father not very long after. My elder sister inherited the estate, and I was left to my studies." Holmes nodded, almost in a disinterested manner, as if he had heard all the information before.
"Where did you study, Doctor?"
"I managed to ease my way into Cambridge, and even after all my dedicated years of study, they waited almost a year after to award my degree to me. When my dear uncle died about the same time, he left his estate in Gravesend to me, and it was there in which I set up my practice. It was hard going at first. Most of the neighborhood carried the same view of the world; that a woman simply could not be a competent Doctor. However, at length I was accepted, and now enjoy a tidy practice."
"That's most commendable." Indeed it was no easy feat she had mastered. But I realized that the lady before me was anything but ordinary. Holmes' eyes opened, looking thoughtful for a moment. They then rested about the Doctor, bright and mischievous.
"And your son?"
"My son's name is John. And as you have said he is an-"
"No no, his attributes may come later. I was inquiring as to how he was born." The lady drew herself up, glaring at Holmes murderously.
"That sir, is a highly impertinent question."
"If I am to find the boy, Doctor Montand, I must not be ignorant to his past." She sighed; an angry, passionate glare still fixed on Holmes.
"His father was a very loathsome creature. Our marriage was not a happy one."
"Perhaps it is he who has-" The lady interrupted my statement with a shake of her head.
"No Doctor. John's father is dead, having drunken himself into an early grave. The boy has no recollection of him and hopefully will never follow in his footsteps."
"My condolences." I murmured uncertainly. The lady scoffed, smiling softly.
"Not at all doctor. Quite honestly I am glad to be rid of the man. He played so small a part in my life that I was loath to mention him." Holmes' eyebrow raised and he stared at the Doctor. She met his gaze equally. Finally, with a small laugh, she settled into his chair again.
"You have made your position quite clear to me. Pray proceed to your tale of his disappearance."
"I fear I have little to give you, Mr. Holmes. It was on Tuesday evening that I discovered his absence. I had just returned from my rounds and entered the house. He did not respond to my calls. I went to his room and found it to be locked. I opened it with my key. The room was entirely empty. All the windows were fastened and shut. I then made a thorough search of the house and asked the housekeeper after him. She reported nothing, and I could not find any trace of him. As I began to think on my son's disposition, I realized that perhaps it was not as malicious as my mind was imagining it to be."
"And what is your son's disposition?"
"John is young, but mature and very intelligent. He makes very reasonable decisions and never does anything without a definite reason. However, at times he is, as I have said, headstrong and foolhardy. He often disappears without an explanation and returns to my scolding without a hair out of place." I laughed.
"Sounds like you Holmes." For a moment, Holmes stared at me. His expression was something I could not quite put my finger on- perhaps, alarm? No that could not be it. Finally, he laughed softly.
"Well this does present a good many features of interest. Did the boy have any letters? Friends, family, anything?" For a moment the lady hesitated, her green eyes downcast to the floor.
"Anything at all can help, Doctor." I said gently. She raised her head, staring at Holmes almost suspiciously.
"No sir. He receives no letters."
"And had you any callers whilst you were away on your rounds? Patients, anyone?" She shook her head pitifully, and I could see that, despite this lady's strong accomplishments, her bravery and her tenacity, she was a mother who loved her son dearly, and his disappearance was taking its toll on her. Even now, I could see the barely suppressed worry in her eyes, and her frowning countenance showed that this was not her natural state. She seemed a woman unaccustomed to black moods, and the downward turn her lips made was hardly the smiles they seemed used to. Holmes sighed, and he leaned forward, giving her a suave, reassuring smile.
"Have no fears madam. We shall surely find him." The look of relief that passed over her face was wonderful.
"You will help me then?" Holmes' face instantly became outraged. Shock, dismay, and surprise seemed to flare up in them. For what reason I had no idea.
"Holmes?" He either did not hear me or ignored my comment, for his angry response to her was barely veiled with calmness.
"Why, madam, of course I shall. Why on earth would I not?" For the first time, Doctor Montand's head bowed, in concession and acquiescence.
"Forgive me. I had not though such a small problem would even be noticed by such an eminent man." Although she appeared to concede, her tone hardly matched her face. She said her apology in a voice of sarcasm and justification. Holmes drew himself up, clearing his throat.
"Not at all, madam. You may return to Gravesend now, and the good Doctor and I shall call upon you in an hour or so, hopefully to solve this little mystery." She nodded and rose.
"Until the afternoon then, gentlemen."
"Goodbye Doctor." I murmured, staring after her as she left the room.
"Farewell, madam." Holmes muttered before seating himself back into his chair with a sigh. I was nothing but perplexed. Holmes' reactions had been so inexplicable, so strange. And the lady's even more so. But I reasoned, there were logical explanations for both. The lady's I could put down to her agitated state. Holmes' I could put down to his own strange nature. And so I wiped any contrary ideas from my mind, and sat myself down next to him.
"Well Holmes. Seems a very murky business."
"Indeed, Watson. It does have intriguing qualities." He murmured unceremoniously. Whilst I could explain everything else, I could not explain his manner towards the case. It seemed as though the case really did not interest him, as though the details of it were not as interesting as he had said them to be. It was as if he had another reason for taking on the case. But what other reason could there be? While my mind struggled over it, Holmes interrupted me with his thoughts.
"It is interesting how the boy seems to have vanished into thin air."
"Yes. All the windows and doors fastened? What could have happened to him?"
"I know not Watson. However, if you will be so good as to check the times of the train and ring for a cab, we shall soon find out.".
