A Study in Lavender: Queering Sherlock Holmes (11 page)

Following in the wake of Birling came the other, more reluctant conspirators. On Birling’s heels came Schrader. Tall and thin, the solicitor removed his hat upon entering the chapel. Looking left and right into the darkness, it seemed he expected a horde of demons to leap from the shadows. Following some distance behind the solicitor came the rotund Gillis, his dull eyes downcast. Finally Dr Jenkins, no more willingly than Gillis but with a spark of wary intelligence in his eyes. Removing his cap, the doctor ran a nervous hand over the smooth crown of his head.

“Who is here?” Arthur Birling demanded of the darkness. “I demand you show yourself immediately!”

Ignoring the large man’s outburst, Holmes waited to strike his match until Birling marched up to the long table blocking the aisle. Then, with a lazy gesture, Holmes brought the flame to the candle. Holding the lit match in his hand, Holmes spoke. “That’s far enough gentlemen. Take a seat.”

With a wave Holmes extinguished the match. The dull light of his candle barely served to illuminate his sharp features but in the flickering light the detective seemed calm, almost bored. Though I knew better, it seemed to my eyes that Holmes had presided over a thousand such courts. Certainly his confident indifference to those lined up before him produced a marked effect in the conspirators. Meekly they examined the table, pulling the chairs out for a seat.

Only Birling stood his ground. “Listen here, what is –”

“Surely all this is familiar to you?” Holmes said, his voice loud enough to interrupt Birling but still maintaining its unexcited tone. “Not a month has passed since you summoned a similar ‘court of honour’ for Adam Bellamy. Gentlemen, under each candle you will find an envelope with your name written on it. Please take your seats. You may wish to wait before opening your envelopes but – and believe me when I tell you this – under no circumstances should you allow any eyes but your own to read the letter bearing your name.”

Birling attempted to squeeze his bulk between the heavy table and the first pew. “That’s quite enough! I see no reason why we should be forced to listen to you! When I get up there, you’ll wish –”

The time had come for me to strike my match and light my candle. Birling, still trying to negotiate passage around the heavy table, stopped at the sight of me. As he judged the intent in my eyes I could see his resolve falter. There was a loud scrape as Gillis pulled out his chair and took his seat. The others paused, waiting to see which direction Birling took before committing themselves. For his part Birling seemed poised on the balance point, uncertain himself what he would do.

“You’ve no right to be here,” Birling growled, indignation in every syllable.

“No more than you had,” Holmes argued. “You have three choices before you. One: You could continue up here and attack us. While I won’t deny the idea has a certain appeal, you should harbour no illusions regarding your chances of surviving such a course of action.”

Birling sneered. “You don’t frighten –”

My service revolver made a loud sound as I set it on the table beside the candle. Although Birling was the focus of my attention, I saw Jenkins pale at the sight of the weapon.

“Second,” Holmes continued as if there had been no interruption. “You may leave. No one will stop you. Of course should you ignore our little court you risk punishment. Third: You may take a seat. Decide now and stop wasting our time.”

Birling cast a glance at his fellows but found no comfort there. Jenkins took his seat while Schrader looked at the envelope bearing his name as if it were a serpent coiled to strike. Reluctantly Birling retreated to the accused side of the table.

“First, gentlemen, let me congratulate you on your eagerness to answer your summons,” Holmes said. “The sooner such unpleasantness is begun, the sooner it is finished. Now, as was stated in the summons, you have been called before this court to answer for the murder of your classmate Adam Bellamy.”

“We did nothing wrong,” Birling spoke defiantly.

“Indeed?” Holmes considered Birling’s statement. “You summoned Adam Bellamy to this chapel to face accusations from your own court of honour. The four of you instructed Bellamy as to the method of suicide you had determined would be most effective. Had Bellamy refused you threatened to take it upon yourselves to reveal his secrets. Bellamy is dead because of your actions. Do you deny any of this?”

Schrader cleared his throat before speaking. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Can’t I?” Holmes smiled cruelly. “You asked me my name before, I feel you should know it now. I am Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps, as a member of the legal profession, you have heard of me? In any event this is not a court of law but a court of honour. The rules of evidence are somewhat different here, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Schrader?”

It was apparent from Schrader’s panicked expression that he was aware of Holmes’s reputation. The solicitor’s wide eyes darted from Holmes to the letter before him, then dropped downwards. His hands came up, covering his face, and the man’s shoulders shook.

“Do any of you wish to protest your innocence?” Holmes enquired. “Mr Schrader, did you not rush to report the provisions Adam Bellamy made to his will regarding his nephew Eric? Dr Jenkins, when Mr Birling made enquiries regarding how to arrange for an accidental death, did you pretend such talk was idle speculation? And Mr Gillis, don’t imagine I am unaware of the purchase you made on the court’s behalf. And Mr Birling, creator and chief justice of the court of honour. Your schoolmates had to be dragged to this place, blackmailed and bullied, but their reluctance didn’t stop you. Gentlemen, you are so quiet. Nothing to say? Very well, let us proceed.”

Holmes looked over the accused at their table, only Birling was able to meet his gaze. “It is the judgement of this court that each of you is guilty of causing the death of Adam Bellamy. The court will forgo punishment provided you respect Adam Bellamy’s last will and testament.”

“What?” Schrader said. “Bellamy’s sister was at my office just the other day, it is almost complete –”

“Not that will, “ Holmes interrupted. “You will respect Bellamy’s amended will, the one granting a portion of his estate to Eric Birling.”

“Outrageous!” Birling cried, knocking his chair backwards as he stood to face Holmes. “I will not allow it!”

“That is your choice.” Holmes spoke as if it made no difference to him what Birling said. “Then the punishment of court falls on each of you.”

Nodding, Birling turned and started marching down the aisle, ridiculous walking stick in hand. At the table Gillis and Jenkins shared a look of dismay while Schrader, wiping his eyes, looked up at Holmes.

“What sort of punishment?” Jenkins asked timidly.

“These envelopes,” Schrader voice was a whisper. “What’s in them?”

“The envelopes contain your punishment,” Holmes answered Schrader’s question. Birling paused partway down the aisle, looking back over his shoulder at Holmes. “Defying the court will naturally cost each of you your honour. Before I summoned you here I indulged myself by investigating your lives, hoping to discover some item, some scandal, capable of causing each of you some inconvenience. The letters within your envelopes summarise the results of my investigations as well as detailing exactly how I intend to use what I discovered. Blackmail, gentlemen, the same tool you employed against Bellamy. When I undertook my investigation I expected it would be difficult to uncover useful information from four seemingly upstanding gentlemen. Imagine my surprise. You will recall I cautioned you each to protect the contents of your letters from your classmates. I had no wish to expose any of you to the risk of further blackmail. Now there’s no need for further secrecy. The contents of your letters will be public knowledge soon enough. Gentlemen, I cannot say it has been a pleasure but I do feel I owe you a debt of professional gratitude. In my career as a detective I have encountered a wide variety of murderers. I thought I had seen killers of every stripe but you gentlemen introduced me to an entirely different, entirely loathsome type of murder.”

“Wait,” Jenkins said, raising from his chair and casting panicked looks at his fellows. Gillis had already torn open his envelope, his eyes wide as he read the letter. Schrader simply stared at his envelope. Jenkins turned to Birling, who stood frozen in the aisle.

“He has nothing on me,” Birling continued. “I will not release my nephew to depravity simply because this man claims to knows something.”

“At least look at your letter,” Jenkins begged.

“He has no need to read his letter,” Holmes informed the doctor. “He already knows what is written there. A daughter, born out of wedlock.”

“Which is not against the law!” Birling shouted at Holmes. “You cannot bring charges against me for that!”

“Quite true,” Holmes agreed. “But you forget, this is not a court of law. Allow me to explain how this court operates. You married well, Mr Birling, fortunately, as your own holdings suffered under your management. I will ensure your wife learns of your daughter. Furthermore I will make certain others of her circle also learn of her. I will provide your wife and her family ample scandal to force your departure should they wish it. To my eye your wife does not seem to…”

“You leave her out of this!” Birling bellowed, his walking stick raised over his head.

Holmes did not rise from his chair. Leaning forward, closer to the weak light of the candle, Holmes spoke his words sharply. “The same mercy you showed Bellamy? This court simply follows your precedent. Do I make myself clear, Mr Birling? If you wish to speak with your fellow accused you may do so. This travesty has gone on too long already. Decide your fates.”

As if pressing against a wind only he could feel Birling walked back to the table and snatched up his letter. He ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter. Even in the dim light it was clear how his hand shook. For a moment I thought he would swoon and I wondered – in a curious, detached way – if he would fall. I made no move to help him. By his own actions Birling had placed himself outside my compassion.

“Damn you!” Birling barked.

“You’ve decided then?” Holmes asked. “Do you accept the will of this court?”

“We do,” Birling said, to the relief of the others. Turning, he threw his walking stick into the shadows. I knew as well as Holmes how much the man wished to hurl his weapon at the detective. My hand reached for my service revolver but there was no need to raise it. The expression on his face, the posture with which he held himself, left me no doubt the fight had been drained from Arthur Birling.

“There will be no further summons, gentlemen. If word of any interference in the execution of Bellamy’s will, or of any attempts to meddle in Eric Birling’s affairs, reach my ears I will act swiftly. I trust you understand the evenings you’ve spent writing summons and convening secret trials are at an end? Very good. The court grants you liberty to leave.”

They rose. Schrader tucked his still unopened letter into his jacket pocket, Birling held his crumpled in his fist. They had entered together but they walked away without meeting one another’s gaze. I sat on the stage, watching them leave, filled with a grim satisfaction. My plan had worked as I had hoped, yet in the end it had accomplished very little. For what it was worth Bellamy’s last will, the will that had started all the trouble, would be respected. Yet he was still gone, his secrets buried with him.

Behind me I heard the scrape of a chair as Eric Birling stood. He walked over to me. The candlelight revealing tears on his handsome face. I was not surprised.

“Why did you do this?” Eric Birling asked. “Did you even know Adam? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful – without you I would never have learned the truth – but why you would help someone like –”

I looked at the man in confusion. “Yes?”

“Come now, Watson,” Holmes chided me. “Surely you are not yet so removed from society you fail to recognize why Adam Bellamy chose death over revelation? My apologies, Mr Birling. I assure you Watson meant no offence. It is just that, like myself, he has seen more of the evils of the world than most. While we don’t mean to diminish your difficulties, such scandals seem very small indeed once you have looked into the eyes of a murdered innocent. You have lost a dear friend and you have our condolences.”

“Well said, Holmes,” I agreed. “If we have helped, Mr Birling, it has been our privilege. I do hope you will visit Mr Bellamy’s sister, I know she would find comfort in meeting another who mourns her brother. How much you reveal to her is a matter for your discretion, however, for what it is worth, she seems to me a most trustworthy and compassionate woman.”

A double investigation is at the heart of this story in which Holmes comes to the rescue of a gay man whose lover has disappeared. Tanny is a man with a history, a very interesting history, which Holmes and Watson absorb with interest. Holmes, astute as ever, instantly grasps everything about the situation and determines what must be done. Watson, intrigued by Tanny and Tanny’s attraction to Holmes, determines he must initiate his own investigation. What he and Holmes discover is yet another tale that Watson kept hidden from the public until now.

by William P. Coleman

Our visitor was an exceedingly alert man, thirty years of age, dressed in a quiet tweed suit, but retaining the erect bearing of one who was accustomed to official uniform. I recognised him at once as Stanley Hopkins, a young police inspector for whose future Holmes had high hopes.