The Confabulannotated Sherlock Holmes, Chapter 1.8
Featuring ghost-written biographies, careless anagrams and entymology
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Previously on my confabulannotations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Hound of the Baskervilles: Mortimer coveted Holmes’ skull
And now, the story continues…
Sherlock Holmes waved1 our strange visitor into a chair. “You are an enthusiast in your line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am in mine,” said he. “I observe from your forefinger2 that you make your own cigarettes. Have no hesitation in lighting one.”
The man drew out paper and tobacco and twirled the one up in the other with surprising dexterity. He had long, quivering fingers as agile and restless as the antennæ of an insect3.
Holmes was silent, but his little darting glances showed me the interest which he took in our curious companion4. “I presume, sir,” said he at last, “that it was not merely for the purpose of examining my skull that you have done me the honour to call here last night and again today?”
“No, sir, no; though I am happy to have had the opportunity of doing that as well. I came to you, Mr. Holmes, because I recognized that I am myself an unpractical man5 and because I am suddenly confronted with a most serious and extraordinary problem. Recognizing, as I do, that you are the second highest expert in Europe—”
“Indeed, sir! May I inquire who has the honour to be the first?” asked Holmes with some asperity6.
“To the man of precisely scientific mind the work of Monsieur Bertillon7 must always appeal strongly.”
“Then had you not better consult him8?”
“I said, sir, to the precisely scientific mind. But as a practical man of affairs9 it is acknowledged that you stand alone. I trust, sir, that I have not inadvertently—”
“Just a little,” said Holmes. “I think, Dr. Mortimer, you would do wisely if without more ado you would kindly tell me plainly10 what the exact nature of the problem is in which you demand my assistance.”
END OF CHAPTER ONE
This should be understood to be a ‘Mexican wave’, one of the earliest literary references to the annoying sporting crowd celebration.
There is no mention here of the positioning of Mortimer’s middle finger, which is perhaps for the best.
Conan Doyle does not specify what kind of insect, but entymologists of the era (polymaths trained in both etymology and entomology) speculate it might have been a Yorkshire Skulking Weevil.
The sexual tension between the three characters here is palpable to modern eyes, but readers at the time would have been more likely to interpret the ‘darting glances’ as the sharing of a private joke or perhaps one tacitly inviting the other to a public demonstration of the effects of static electricity.
Mortimer’s lack of practicality is an overt sign of his societal standing. Only the most privileged citizens of the era could afford to be openly ‘unpractical’. Indeed, many members of the aristocracy would go so far as to flaunt their inability to complete - or, for higher levels of nobility, even understand the necessity of - such everyday tasks as stoking a fire, pouring a whiskey or, in extreme cases, winding a pocket watch.
asperity (noun, offensive slur): in the manner of one who suffers from Asperger syndrome.
‘Monsieur Bertillon’ is believed by most Holmes scholars to be an anagram of ‘Albert Einstein’, albeit one that is ‘severely fucked up’.
Snippy Holmes is widely considered to be the best Holmes.
‘A Practical Man of Affairs’ was the title of the scurrilous unauthorised biography of Thomas Edison, believed to have been ghost-written by Nikola Tesla over a particularly mischievous weekend.
Linguistic analysis of the various Holmes texts reveals that when the detective is annoyed, his dialogue contains 43% more adverbs (as well as 19% fewer references to bees). Source: The Royal Entymologist Society of London.