9th Dec: From Winter Winks 221 - True meaning


Upon the publication of A Study in Scarlet I was most eager to hear Holmes's feedback. After all, I had written the thing in an effort to honour to him, so it mattered a great deal to me what he thought. I waited patiently the few months until he spoke of it, assuming him to be busy with some case or other.

"I didn't know you had a middle name," he declared one evening as we sat in companionable silence. I looked up and saw he had picked up the copy of Beeton's Christmas Annual which I had left so strategically in the living room.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"I am puzzled," he continued with no heed for my question. "What is the 'H' for? Henry?"

"No it isn't. What did you think of the story?"

"Harold?"

"Holmes."

His lips twitched. "Now that would be a coincidence."

"Oh for Heaven's sake, man!" I threw up my hands in exasperation. "What did you think of the story? The writing?"

He set the book aside, going to light his pipe. Who would have known the subject of my middle name would be cause for such speculation?

"Hamish? Hayden?"

I sighed. "You didn't like it, did you?"

"Hugo? Harrison? Hector?"

"Holmes-"

"Hugh?"

"Holmes!" I finally exploded. "I do not have a middle name! I simply put the H in on my publisher's advice. He said it would not be memorable otherwise."

Holmes smiled, but I sensed he had known the answer all along. "And that, dear Doctor, is the entire issue with your writing. You embellish."

I deflated entirely at that. "Oh. So you dislike it."

He sighed. "Really, Watson. You must not take it so personally. It is just so romanticised."

"But a great deal more entertaining than one of your own monographs," I quipped before I could stop myself.

Affronted, he laid down his pipe and curled up gloomily in his armchair. The two of us spent the rest of the day simmering in resentful silence.