"I traveled for two years in Tibet, therefore, and amused myself by visiting Lhassa, and spending some days with the head lama." -Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Empty House
"Neither the Dalai Lama (who was a teenager when Holmes disappeared), nor any other lama, would have appreciated being referred to as a "lama," a pack animal from South America. Conan Doyle's mistake went uncorrected in many early editions. Conan Doyle's cavalier reference reveals his desire to gloss over Holmes's adventures during the hiatus and get on with the story." Source: Stanford University
inspired by the radio play "Murder Beyond the Mountains" starring Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes, written for radio by Dennis Green and Anthony Boucher, and published in short story form by Ken Greenwald in The Lost Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
Please note: everything in this story is an imagined work inspired by the three items above; nothing in it should be taken as historical fact or as real-life practices/beliefs of the religion of Buddhism either in the present day or in the late 1800's.
Sherlock Holmes in Tibet
Sherlock Holmes didn't mind the cold. The air here was clean and crisp and stung him just enough to be a reassurance he was alive. It was almost enough to make him forget he'd ever choked on the smog of London or nearly lost his own life trudging through seemingly endless cold just weeks before. And the beauty of this place and the quietness of life here was almost enough to make him forget he'd ever wanted anything else. Almost. He was going to miss this.
"You do not have to leave," came a voice, interrupting his thoughts. "It is a mistake to overvalue one's life just as it is to undervalue it. We are not more significant than our fellows, nor are we less. We are. All of us, and when we are something else we will go on being. The world does not ache for want of you, for you are still in it and will continue in it. You do not share this belief, and yet once again I will offer to let you stay. You have been given a great gift, to be granted entrance to Lhasa; not many are granted the privilege, and I cannot guarantee you would be granted access again."
Holmes gave the proper respect. "Thank you. I am afraid, however, that my mind is quite made up."
Holmes and the Dalai Lama Strode about the garden. Everything here really was picturesque. Maybe one day, Holmes mused, he could return despite the other man's fears. After all, he'd made friends, not enemies here. He was confident he would be allowed passage a second time. That would be nice, to retire and live here among the mountains. Perhaps there would be peace and Tibet would become it's own country, a welcoming place for visitors. Then it would be able to share its rich culture with the world and not only allow in the occasional self-promoting, fame seeking explorer. Homes had a theory that one day people of all nationalities would freely travel to and live in all the countries of the world, but he was also sensible enough to be aware the likelihood of it happening in his lifetime was practically nil, and he would, very likely, never have the chance to return to this place.
"What calls you from your old life?" asked the lama after some minutes of walking in peaceful silence.
"London," Holmes replied without hesitation. "Everything about it, even that which no man should rightfully miss. The buildings, the fog, the river, the crimes, the shops, the streets, even Scotland Yard. London is my city, the place where I truly thrive. I especially miss the people in the city, some in particular as well as the diversity of life and peoples. When I made my choice, as you can imagine, I left behind everyone I've ever known. And, of course, I miss my work. I spoke the truth when I said your life of studying and meditating and serving appeals to me, but I have another work, and I must see it completed."
"I see," said the lama. "I, too, have work to do. As do we all," he continued, and they walked on in silence.
The man was young, Holmes mused. He was in his early days of being a man, not yet twenty, but he had Holmes' respect. Holmes had disclosed his true identity to the lama, and had been accepted, given a place to stay for as long as he needed. It was only during his talks with the lama that he could be himself, Sherlock Holmes.
"There is one person especially whom I miss and think of often," Holmes found himself continuing after a few more minutes of wandering. He felt a smile play across his lips as he spoke. "The man I'm thinking of is going to be particularly glad to see me. He's in London, living in wedded bliss, no doubt, but I'm sure he misses me. For some reason, he always did have a fondness for me. If he knew I was here, making a dangerous trek across the mountains alone, he would come help me. I'm sure he would, even though the trek would be harder on him than myself. He has never cared about putting his own life in danger, not when I have need of him. It's that kind of unselfish loyalty, however, that demanded I leave him behind. I did not want him to put himself in danger, not on my account, and not when he has his own life to return to. I didn't leave him unhappy, however; I'm sure he's perfectly content living a cozy life with his wife and no doubt flourishing medical practice. Still, I'm sure he thinks of me on occasion, and I can't wait to surprise him when I return."
They ended up at the cabbage patch at the end of his rambling, and Holmes set himself to weeding and harvesting as he spoke. The lama joined him.
"There are others wish to see as well," Holmes continued. "My brother, my old landlady, the men at Scotland Yard, some old friends, and the children, too." Holmes trailed off, apparently lost in thought.
"The children?" the lama prompted.
"Well, not quite children anymore," Holmes amended his statement with a small smile. "They are all still small and scrappy in my imagination and my memories, but I'm sure they are quite the strapping young men by now, most of them. I know they'll be happy to see me nevertheless. And there is one child in particular I want to see."
"Hmm?" the lama hummed in acknowledgement.
"I haven't met him yet. Or her, I suppose, but I have a feeling it will be a boy. I've been thinking about it often lately, how different a role I will need to play when I return, and I believe I will be a wonderful uncle. I'll take the boy on trips, teach him mathematics, tell him stories about his father, and ensure he grows into a respectable, well-rounded young man. His father and mother are quite the most exemplary couple in England, but having them as parents will fill his head with the idea that everyone in the world is as wonderful and caring as they are. I will keep his feet firmly planted on the ground and teach him how to look out for himself. Who knows but maybe there will even be two children by the time I return? And I will be uncle to them both and all their siblings to come and I will love them like they were my own. They will be my sole heirs and perhaps one of them will be astute enough to an apprentice to me. I can't wait to see their parents' faces when I start coming around just for social visits and when I pick up them up without complaining." Holmes sighed in a way that, for him, was nearly dreamily. "There are many things I am looking forward to. I thank you for your hospitality, but I really can't stay."
"I understand," said the lama, filling his basket with cabbage and lifting it. Holmes did likewise.
"There is one thing I would like to know before you leave," he continued as they headed back to bring the cabbage to the kitchen.
"Yes?"
"Why did the arrival of our Chinese emissary Wah-Tzun affect you so? You had been living with us quite contentedly for some days, but when he arrived you began to talk of leaving. You've been restless."
"Hmm," Holmes hummed, grinning softly. "I'm sure I don't know about that. Perhaps there's something about him that makes me think of my friend."
"He is dear to you, this friend."
"Yes, quite dear."
"Then by all means, you must return to him and not let him live in the knowledge you have passed on. We all have an obligation to each other. What is his name?"
"I… John. His name is John. And yes, I think it's time I try and make my way home."