Holmes’ final problems

As is well known, Conan Doyle killed off his creation Sherlock Holmes in the story “The Final Problem” in 1893, but, due, it is claimed, to public pressure, but more, I suspect, because he missed writing these stories, brought him back to life again ten years later in “The Empty House”. The resurrection isn’t s ingenious as is often claimed: there was, after all, no body recovered from the Reichenbach Falls, into which Holmes was supposed to have fallen, locked in deadly combat with Professor Moriarty; and this makes me wonder whether Conan Doyle wanted all along to keep up his sleeve the option of bringing Holmes back at some later date. He tested out the waters, as it were, two years before “The Empty House” with The Hound of the Baskervilles – a story that had presumably taken place before the incident at the Reichenbach Falls – and its spectacular success indicated there was still a strong public appetite for Holmes & Watson. And so, in 1903, back to life Holmes came – not in stories that had taken place before his presumed death, but in the here-and-now. And to the delight of Holmesians both then and now, “The Empty House” was followed in the Strand magazine by twelve others, and afterwards published together in The Return of Sherlock Holmes.

There are those, it must be said, who feel that Holmes wasn’t quite the same after the resurrection – that the earlier stories are superior to what followed. I think this is palpable nonsense. The best stories in this collection are among the finest in the entire canon – “The Priory School”, “The Six Napoleons”, “The Abbey Grange”, etc.; and, looking through the thirteen titles, there doesn’t seem to me to be a single weak link – certainly nothing as weak as, say “A Case of Identity” (in the first collection The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes), or “The Stockbroker’s Clerk” (which is effectively an inferior re-run of “The Red-Headed League”) in the second collection, The Memoirs. Indeed, The Return of Sherlock Holmes may well be the finest and most consistently inspired of the five collections.

However, it is much harder, it seems to me, to defend the fifth ad final collection, The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. After The Return, instead of publishing planned sets, Conan Doyle wrote and published these stories more sporadically – much as fancy took him. His Last Bow, published in 1917, is a collection of seven of these stories, along with the earlier story “The Cardboard Box”, one of the very finest of the entire canon. (This story had been published in the Strand magazine as early as January 1893, but Conan Doyle had omitted it from the collection The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, deeming it unsuitable for younger readers.) With the possible exception of “The Dying Detective”, every single story in His Last Bow seems to me a masterpiece, and two of them – “The Devil’s Foot” and “The Bruce-Partington Plans” – seem to me quite exceptional. The collection wraps up with the title story, “His Last Bow”, a tale of Holmes, now approaching old age, lending his talents to the British secret services, and foiling an espionage attempt on the eve of the First World War.

But despite the title of the last story, Conan Doyle, it seems, couldn’t stop writing about Holmes and Watson. Between 1921 and 1927, twelve more stories were published in Strand, and these, collected together in The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes, gave us, most finally and most definitively, his last last bow. And this final collection, it must be admitted, is harder to defend than the earlier collections had been. However, when you’re a fan, you’re a fan, and even the least of these stories is of interest. And, reading them over recently, I found them far more interesting than I had remembered.

Let us admit first of all – and get it over with – that there are a number of weak stories here. There are two stories here narrated by Holmes himself (“The Blanched Soldier” and “The Lion’s Mane”), and neither of these can be counted great successes. Holmes being the narrator isn’t really new: in two of the stories in The Memoirs (“The Gloria Scott” and “The Musgrave Ritual”), while Watson had provided the narrative framework, it was Holmes who had narrated the bulk of the story, and his storytelling there was certainly better than it is here. Furthermore, the two cases here are solved not by detection, but by Holmes having retained some esoteric facts at the back of his encyclopaedic mind.

“The Mazarin Stone” too, is weak. Conan Doyle was, it seems, attempting to emulate stage productions, so the whole thing emerges as a conversation piece, with the entire exposition, development and denouement all taking place in the same set (Holmes’ front room in 221b Baker Street), and in the time it takes to read the story. It doesn’t really come off, I’m afraid.

“The Three Garridebs” is an inferior re-hash of “The Stockbroker’s Clerk”, which is itself an inferior re-hash of “The Red-Headed League”; but it’s hard to regret this story, especially given the rare moment of tenderness Holmes displays for Watson when his friend is wounded by a gunshot. And while “The Veiled Lodger” doesn’t really display any detection work, it is redeemed by a genuinely interesting and thrilling backstory. And also by this delicious passage:

The discretion and high sense of professional honour which have always distinguished my friend are still at work in the choice of these memoirs, and no confidence will be abused. I deprecate, however, in the strongest way the attempts which have been made lately to get at and to destroy these papers. The source of these outrages is known, and if they are repeated, I have Mr Holmes’s authority for saying that the whole story concerning the politician, the lighthouse, and the trained cormorant will be given to the public. There is at least one reader who will understand.

Throughout this collection, there are tantalising references to other cases – most memorably near the start of “The Sussex Vampire”, where we are told of the case of the Giant Rat of Sumatra – “a story for which the world is not yet prepared”. Heard melodies are sweet, as the poet said, but those unheard are sweeter.

The one story in this collection I find hard to defend is “The Three Gables”. The story itself is pretty thin; and while we are accustomed to Holmes taking the law into his hands and letting the criminal off, it is hard to see why he does so in this case. And it is harder still to defend some of the comments made by Holmes to Steve Dixie – comments which, certainly by modern standards, can only be regarded as racist. (And the fact that Steve Dixie is a vicious thug hardly excuses Holmes’ comments.) Of course, they were different times, and the standards of what is acceptable have changed, but it’s nonetheless disappointing, especially given how warmly appreciative both Holmes and Watson had been of racial tolerance and of racial integration in the earlier (and rather touching) story “The Yellow Face”. If I had to lose just one story in the canon, this, I fear, would be it.

But the other stories in this collection I would strongly defend. “The Retired Colourman” and “Shoscombe Old Place” may not be Holmes and Watson at their best, but they are fine stories nonetheless. (In “Shoscombe Old Place”, Conan Doyle leads Holmes and Watson, quite successfully, I think, into the regions of Gothic horror.) And the much reviled “The Creeping Man” seems to me a splendid science fiction story: it is quite clearly a nod towards Stevenson’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and, while the science in the story may not exactly be watertight (any more than in Stevenson’s story), it is worth it if only for Holmes’ rather melancholy observation “When one tries to rise above Nature, one is liable to fall beneath it”.

But I’ve kept the three best ones till the last. If “The Creeping Man” is Conan Doyle’s riff on Jekyll and Hyde, “The Sussex Vampire” is clearly a response to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. And it’s a superb story. As in some other stories that hint at the supernatural (The Hound of the Baskervilles, “The Devil’s Foot”), the truth is entirely rational: Holmes (unlike his creator) will not have it any other way:

“Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts? It’s pure lunacy.”

But even without the supernatural, Conan Doyle communicates powerfully an atmosphere of fear and of mystery, and this story would not have been out of place in any of the earlier collections. Neither would “The Illustrious Client”, in which Holmes is up against a truly formidable opponent, and which has one of the most thrilling denouements in the entire canon. But best of all, probably, is “Thor Bridge”: reading this intriguing story, with its ingenious solution, it’s like being back in old times again. Place this story in any of the earlier collections, and it would still stand out as one of the best.

So a mixed bag, all in all, and even though, overall, it doesn’t quite match up to the earlier collections, no self-respecting Holmesian would be without it.

There were no more comebacks after this one: this was, most definitely, the final curtain. We needn’t repine: this was the right place to stop. With the possible exception of “The Three Gables” – and even that I think I’d be sorry to lose – there’s not a single one of these fifty-six short stories (and four novels) that I would want to be without. Why? Oh, I don’t know … There are certain things that defy explanation.

7 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by animatomdobbiegmailcom on September 12, 2021 at 4:55 pm

    the Reichenbach Falls – – – –
    He tested out the waters…
    hahahahahaha….. you have been drinking too much Irn Bru …..


  2. I was once in hospital for two or three days, and couldn’t sleep: so I read every single word of the canon. At no point was I anything other than gripped and entertained; and always was eager to keep moving on…. I think it’s some of the most consistently well-written literature I’ve encountered… – it’s certainly contains two of the most believable characters… – and, yes, the quality sometimes wavers: but it’s a massive amount of writing; and never dips *that* far. We are lucky to have these stories; and I am now – because of your essay – tempted to revisit them. Thank you!


    • I’ve tried before to explain the magic of these stories, and I just can’t. I honestly cannot account for their immense appeal. But these stories really are as indispensable to me as Shakespeare is, and when the BBC finally comes to its senses and invites me on tp Desert Island Discs, and I am asked which book I’d choose along with the Bible and the Complete Works of Shakespeare, there will be no hesitation on my part!
      Oh – the hours I spent in my room as a child reading and re-reading these stories when my parents thought I was doing my homework…


  3. Posted by animatomdobbiegmailcom on September 12, 2021 at 6:23 pm

    Is my sanity comprimised ?
    Over the past ten years I have read every one of the stories many times, collected all TV and movie versions watching them many times, collected a large number of audio versions from old radio broadcasts, saudio books.
    There are distributions of various qualities for these things, ranging from very good to very bad. Due to cost of production restrictions being high in film, there are only a few terribly bad versions. With audio being cheap and chearful, we get rather a large number of ‘never listen again’ and ‘switch it off quick. However, there are some diamonds to be mined.
    My mind is very creative and visual, which would normally label me as a butterfly. However, my repetition rate for listening, reading watching these is very high. Therefore i propose that there is something archaic, deep in the human psyche (Jung) that these stories align with. For some of us, to obsession.


    • You’re by no means the only Holmes obsessive. I’ve said often enough that the three most indispensable books in the English language are the King James Bible, the Complete Works of Shakespeare, and the Sherlock Holmes stories. On my 50th birthday, my wife gave me te handsome 3-volume Annotated Sherlock Holmes, and they’ve never been far from my bedside table since.

      There are many adaptations I love, but nothing beats the actual stories themselves, especially read in bed at night!


  4. Posted by farsouthproject on September 13, 2021 at 7:03 am

    What a great post! Thank you.


  5. Posted by David Taylor on September 17, 2021 at 7:19 pm

    The received wisdom picked up over the years is that Conan Doyle wanted to kill off Holmes because he was tired of the need to produce regular instalments to keep the public happy. He apparently wanted to devote time to more ‘serious’ literature (whatever that meant). However, as you point out in the excellent article, the truth is (probably) not that simple. The tone of doom in the story does make it feel as though there is no way back for Holmes, and that Watson has fully accepted his demise, however there is something incongruous about two men of such intellect as Holmes and Moriarty wrestling to the death on a rock ledge. We will never know Conan Doyle’s true intention but can only be grateful that he didn’t abandon Holmes. As you say there are some gems in the subsequent stories.

    On a visit to the Swiss Alps a few years ago I made a diversion to the town of Meiringen and the Reichenbach Falls where the final part of the story takes place. They certainly exploit their connection with Holmes, with sculptures, plaques, road and building names. The museum has a collection of Holmes artefacts and a very believable reproduction of the study at 221B Baker Street. On the falls they have even marked the spot where (in theory) the denouement took place.


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