From The Sealed Vault of Doctor John H. Watson

The Marmalade Mystery

A goodly number of cases that I, Doctor John H. Watson had the pleasure of working on with my friend Sherlock Holmes, were neither noteworthy, nor clever, nor required any of his amazing powers of observation and deduction. Nonetheless, there are several worth documenting in my private diaries, for no other reason than simply being amusing. Such is the "Marmalade Mystery" case in which I document here.

It was a lovely spring morning in 1883, during those early days when Holmes and I were first rooming together at 221B Baker Street. A point I may not have covered was the layout of the flats at Baker Street and the fact Mrs. Hudson occupied the bottom level flat, which had a small adjoining rose garden outside the backdoor. It was no more than a few dozen yards square and surrounded by a low, lichen-covered stone wall that predated the building itself. There was room enough for flowers and rosebushes, a birdbath and a white wicker tea table with chairs.

Often, Mrs. Hudson would invite Holmes and I to have tea in her rose garden when the weather was pleasant and the flowers were in bloom. Occasionally, I took her up on the offer, enjoying the flowers and the sounds of birds, while Holmes rarely joined me and preferred to have tea indoors.

This day was one of the rare occasions Holmes joined me for tea in the rose garden and we sat talking and sharing a basket of warm scones and an assortment of half a dozen fruit jams in tiny jars. Holmes had turned the handwritten labels of the jams away from him as soon as he was seated at the table, as was his habit with any assortment of flavors. He preferred to deduce the flavors of things, rather than making a choice based on favoritism as most people would. It was the only time I saw him take a real pleasure in eating and break from his normal machine-like precision when it came to taking in meals.

"I do hope I get a case soon! It's been so boring of late, I could scream. Not even a robbery, or a murder in weeks! I'd even settle for a boring case. Anything to keep my mind active." Holmes complained bitterly, as he slathered a spoonful of clotted cream on a scone, followed by a hearty smattering of jam.

"You're the only person besides the criminals who feels sad over the lack of murders and robberies. Most people would consider it a good thing." I laughed.

"I'm not sad over it. I'm bored. There is a difference. The world is full of bad people and many terrible things happen." Holmes insisted, "Murders happen. Robberies happen…and…and…and…" he stammered, his gray eyes going wide as they fell upon the low stone wall of the rose garden, "And I've spoken too soon. Look! Look there! We have a…a crime scene, Watson!"

Holmes let his scone drop to his plate and set down his teacup and his gaze transfixed on a small red stain on the stone wall of the rose garden. I chuckled as Holmes stood up, rushed over and pulled his magnifying glass out of his pocket and knelt next to the wall. I dabbed my mouth with a white linen napkin and followed him.

"It was a brutal attack, by a vicious predator…a murderer…I'm sure of it!" Holmes said gravely, as he pointed at a bloodstain surrounded by several tiny droplets, about a quarter of the way up the low, 4-foot stone wall. "The attack happened right here. The victim was pinned to the wall, then gouged by a sharp, very tiny weapon, likely at the throat, then they were dragged off as they bled out. Look there…you can see the blood spatter and the trail of evidence." He followed several drops of blood to a little spot in the dirt with a coin-sized puddle of blood and a tiny clump of short dun-colored hair that looked as if it had been forcefully rooted out.

"Holmes!" I rolled my eyes and laughed heartily, "That's no murder! It's obvious what happened here, it looks like…"

"Shhhh!" Holmes said fiercely, "DON'T say it, Watson! Obviously, a fatality took place here and we must follow the evidence to prove our murder case!"

I sighed, "Very well, then, Holmes. We're on a case." I said, resolutely, as I straightened my waistcoat and checked the time on my pocket watch, "Will I be needing my revolver for this one?"

"Yes, Watson, absolutely!" said he.

"You're not serious." Said I.

"No, no…of course not!" Holmes laughed, "Come now, follow me!" he said, leading the way as he followed the tiny blood droplets over the wall a few feet away from the first stain, then placed his hands atop the wall and nimbly leapt over it.

I followed with a groan behind him, as I swung my scone-stuffed and slightly less nimble self over the wall and into the neighbor's garden. I eyed the closed curtains of the neighbor's back windows and shook my head.

"Holmes, we're trespassing! This isn't right!" I insisted in a whisper.

"Nonsense! They'll understand. This is a very delicate matter. Now, DON'T destroy the evidence! You know better than to trample on a crime scene. We can't have your footprints obscuring the blood trail!" Holmes scolded, pointing to the spot I stood in.

I stepped aside, "Very well but if we get caught…"

"I'll do the talking." Holmes said. "We'll just explain that we're conducting an important investigation."

I rolled my eyes and smirked, "Indeed!"

He led me around some hedges and to a small outhouse. We peeked behind it and he looked at me triumphantly as he pointed to the bloody, gruesome crime scene.

"See? SEE THERE? We've solved another murder case, Watson! We've caught her!" Holmes said, placing both hands upon his hips and thrusting his chest out proudly.

"I suppose we should send a telegram to Scotland Yard at once!" I blanched, "Tell them we caught a dangerous murderess."

"We caught her IN the act!" Holmes agreed. "She's guilty, Watson. Just look at that face. Cold. Emotionless. She's stained in her victim's blood, yet she doesn't care. She sits there gloating over her crime. She doesn't even care that she's been caught. She's proud of it!"

A pair of emotionless green eyes peered up at us from the bloody crime scene and I knew this murderess had no remorse but she wasn't about to run away from the scene of her crime, for she was enjoying the spoils far too much to leave. I turned away from the bloodstained face. As many gruesome things as I'd seen, a dismembered and gutted body still wasn't a sight I cared to look upon for too long.

"I don't suppose we'll need cuffs for this one." Said I.

"No, arresting her wouldn't do any good. She'd surely escape and just kill again. Criminals like her never learn. They just keep killing…But, at least we've solved the case." Holmes said, shrugging and putting his magnifying glass back into his pocket.

"One of our easier cases." I mused.

"It was over FAR too quickly!" he complained. "Come now, let's go finish our tea and scones."

"I think I've lost my appetite!" I grimaced as we made our way over the stone wall back to Mrs. Hudson's rose garden.

"You? An army surgeon?" Holmes looked at me, confused. "Surely, you've seen worse sights and on a much larger scale! You've seen battle wounds. You've seen men blown to bits. How is that little crime scene any worse?"

"Yes…But surgery is different because I have things under control. Seeing Mrs. Hudson's cat, Marmalade gutting a large rat isn't the same thing as surgery. I know it's nature but still…it's just…it's savage, Homes! I don't wish to look upon savagery as I enjoy my morning tea!"

Homes laughed as we sat back down at the table. He picked up his scone and continued eating it as if nothing had happened, pausing to unscrew the lid of each jar of jam, sampling each one alternately.

"Bah! It's not savage to her! Marmalade is enjoying a mid-morning meal on a lovely spring day, just as we are enjoying our scones, dear Watson!" said he. "It's nature at it's finest. We are lucky to witness such an amazing display of cunning and efficiency. Catching a rat is no easy business. Catching criminals is far easier. Even most humans can't catch rodents, which is why we have cats. Marmalade is every bit a hunter as a lioness is because in her mind, she IS a lioness. She doesn't know that she's a house cat. All she knows is that rodents taste good, just as zebras taste good to lions. It isn't any more savage than humans eating a Christmas goose."

I shook my head and chuckled and poured myself more tea. Several minutes later, the fat, fluffy, orange tabby jumped onto the stone wall and began licking rat blood from her ginger-colored paws. Marmalade looked quite pleased with herself. I laughed at the idea of this beautiful, well-groomed, pampered animal with her pink rhinestone collar being a "cunning and efficient" predator. At the same time, I knew Holmes was right. She was just doing what was in her nature. Even if humans bred cats to have pretty faces, long coats and lovely colors, they'd always be predators at heart.

Marmalade looked over at Holmes and blinked her large, jade-green eyes slowly a few times as she met his gaze. For a moment, it was as if man and beast understood one another's thoughts. Just as much as Holmes understood human nature, he understood animals too and moreover, he understood that humans and animals aren't as different as we like to pretend. Marmalade let out a soft meow before jumping down from the wall and trotting over to the side of our table. She was such a lovely and good-natured cat, it was hard to believe that she'd ever hurt a fly, let alone rip a rodent to pieces, gut it and devour it. I had to remind myself that however domesticated humans thought our animals were, they still were just animals at heart and would follow their instincts.

"Marmalade! You naughty girl. Have some milk to wash down that rat!" I joked, as I poured some milk onto a saucer, then set it beside the table.

Never one to refuse a treat, Marmalade began lapping up the milk eagerly.

"Nonsense." Holmes insisted, "She's a good girl. She's keeping the rat population down!"

"Yes, and the bird population too!" I laughed, recalling that she'd caught a bird the week before and there were still stray feathers in the garden from it.

"I'm grateful to Marmalade for giving me a mystery with my morning tea!" Holmes said, as he smiled and poured himself another cup.

"A most noteworthy case, Holmes." I laughed, "I shall document this one immediately with the utmost urgency."

"It's an absolutely riveting case, Watson!" he agreed, as he reached for the basket of fresh scones.

I could see that he was serious and I just smiled as I spread clotted cream and jam on my scone, knowing that great brain of his needed puzzles and problems and stimulation, the same way a predator needed to feel the thrill of the hunt. Just as Marmalade wasn't happy eating table scraps and craved fresh meat, Holmes craved fresh problems. The mere sight of a spot of blood on a wall and a clump of rodent fur on the ground was irresistible to him. Even when the everything about the scene made it obvious what happened, he still needed to investigate it and follow the clues.