A Study in Lavender: Queering Sherlock Holmes (20 page)

“For example, I just told Tanny about Linton Soames and what he did to Eric. My explanation to him was not the way I said it to you. Tanny’s background differs from yours. And his mind works differently. Anyway, he thinks I’m a magician, so he accepts my word as fact.”

“Whereas I enjoy fighting you?”

“You do fight, but fairly. That’s part of what I mean. You help me by being you. It changes my thinking to know it’s you that I’ll explain myself to.”

“Hmm. I was saying something of the kind to Jack Wright yesterday. He could make his stories better by imagining he was telling them to a specific friend, rather than satisfying the mindless demands of an anonymous public.”

“Exactly. Jack’s story will depend on who his fancied interlocutor is. If the boy wishes to write well, then he needs be careful in making friends among whom he can choose partners for his imaginary conversations. I am fortunate to have you for the explanations I concoct.”

I laughed. “A good attempt, Holmes! My sincere thanks for caring to make me feel useful. But you’re not believable.”

“I know I risk angering you, but do you realize that it is precisely most at those times when you are frustrated with my leaden, intransigent silence that I crave your help and I create a second, spectral copy of you in my mind and tell him what I won’t tell you? …It must be a copy of you and of no one else, because I would say different things were I with another. Logically, I am thus compelled to feel that you are somehow in part the author of what I tell you.”

I protested, “Of the wording, perhaps, and of the style of delivery – but not of the logic.”

“No, the logic – once formed – is immutable. But, of the hypotheses my imagination is able to conceive and from which the chains of logic proceed. Of the intelligence that guides my mind in choosing which facts those chains must link.”

This was ridiculous. “The words come out of your mouth, not out of mine.”

“Words? And what importance are they? Do you remember when we recovered the Beryl Coronet? I followed tracks in the snow – of a wooden-legged green-grocer and the maid he talked to – and of Alexander Holder’s son struggling with the thief to prevent him carrying away the prize. Those simple indentations in the snow were enough to indicate some bare facts of the crime, but they are in no way adequate to the scene that played that night. I know a little about the grocer, but I could not pick him uniquely from a crowd of similar men. Having seen the maid, I might make various guesses about the nature of the grocer’s hopes, but I cannot feel what he felt. I do not know at what points in their conversation they might have seen the moon break through the clouds. Now, suppose that, to explain what happened, I drive some thin metal stakes into the ground at the turning points of the action. I could attach ribbons with writing on them: ‘George Burnwell waited here under the window,’ and so on. The words inscribed on those ribbons would tell a meagre, selective distillation of one meaning of the footprints, enough for the single purpose of solving the crime, but far from exhausting the richness of life that left the footprints. Words are merely markers, boundaries. Useful for that, but no more.

“Let me change my metaphor. Suppose you and I walk together up a mountainside. We would keep each other on the path by pointing with our fingers, by nods with our heads, by glances into each other’s eyes, by gentle nudges and touches. The words we spoke aloud would form just an intermittent, occasional residue of how we worked together.

“So, yes, I am the rapporteur, announcing the minutes of our deliberations, later to be codified by you to report your readers, but I am not the sole member of the committee. I may even be its chairman, but I could not do it alone.

“You are essential to my work – as I am to your stories.”

When I was able to master myself, I said, “Thank you.” Grudgingly, I understood and finally admitted the reasons for Holmes’s belief that he needed me as much as liked me.

Tanny and I spent two evenings at the Ram’s Head before Major Soames, in uniform, came in on the third. Tanny recognized him at once, and the major was almost as quick to see Tanny in return.

Linton Soames took his place among his companions, and Tanny glanced flirtatiously at him – once or twice only – visibly joking with me about it. I was amazed at the intensity of Linton’s awareness of Tanny and at the sternness with which he disguised it from his fellows.

Tanny offered to get our next round and went to the bar rather than waiting for the barmaid. The major drifted over to him. Tanny manoeuvred deftly among the customers to avoid ever standing next to him. They talked. Tanny was inviting, but not enough so to embarrass Linton. Once Tanny pointed at me.

Finally Tanny left the major and returned with our beers, which he set on the table. I started to get up. Tanny laughingly pushed me back while hinting that for Linton’s benefit I should act out the part of saying I was eager for him, wanted to go, and didn’t mind leaving the drinks. I did, and Tanny allowed me to get up. His smile promised me the best evening of my life.

We went out of the Ram’s Head, passed the beggar outside, and took a cab back to Tanny’s room. Shortly, Holmes appeared. We reported, and he complimented us on our success. He added, “Major Soames did not try to follow your cab.”

At night, at the docks, away from the traffic of the city, it was silent. Or, rather, the warehouse itself seemed moored within a yet wider river of quiet and shadows, between the distant banks formed by the city’s noise and light. The ships at the quays were somnolent, tied close to each other, unmoving except their gentle rocking in place. Only a few boats motored now on the water, slowly, interrupting the opaque glow of the moon’s reflection and adding their small pools of yellow lamplight to the vast silver incandescence of the river surface.

The warehouse was as huge as Tanny had described it in the tale of his adventure with Eric. Aside from the indoor storage he had mentioned, there were large roofed-over areas for cargo outside, with open yards in between. They presented an intricate maze with darkened, irregular paths between cranes, between stanchions, between crates, and between loose wares.

Tanny and I hid ourselves and waited.

Just before the appointed time, Tanny went out and seated himself idly, appealingly, on a crate. He had one foot on the ground and the other leg drawn up.

A hansom came down the street with the horse’s hoofs ringing on the cobblestones and its wheels thudding up and down. Linton Soames got out and sent the cab away.

“But not in the sexy style you expect. You’re on your way to hell, you little degenerate.” Linton advanced closer. “I’m going to put an end to your filthy life.”

Hopkins said to him, “In the name of the Queen, I arrest you for soliciting prostitution, for gross indecency with a male, for threat of bodily harm, and for attempted murder.”

Linton’s courage returned. He resumed his military bearing. “What about your friends here? You’d have to arrest them too. It seems to me you’re all caught in your own trap.”

Two four-wheelers turned into the street and rolled toward us.

Hopkins was cool under the major’s bluster. He replied, “These two men,” indicating Tanny and me, “have been acting under my direction as agents of Scotland Yard. One is the famous and respected Dr Watson. You have offered this other man money to perform indecent acts and you have threatened both men’s lives in full view and hearing of a Metropolitan Police inspector and two constables.”

“I am prepared, temporarily, to be lenient in view of the unblemished reputation and memory of your father, General Sir Attwood Soames, and his magnificent services to our Queen.”

Linton smiled.

Hopkins took a paper from his inner pocket. He said, “You have only to sign this confession. It will remain, sealed, in my desk drawer, available to Sherlock Holmes, to Dr Watson, or to me to use in the event that any harm of any kind should ever befall this young man here or either of your two brothers. The slightest threat or suggestion to them will bring you down. If I ever hear your name, except as mentioned for bravery in dispatches from your military superiors, I shall gaol you.”

He handed the paper to Linton, who read it and exclaimed, “This accuses me of kidnapping my brother, battering him, and holding him against his will. I will never sign such a lie!”

Hopkins replied with calm indifference. “Well, then, do as you like. If you prefer instead, it is within my power to arrest you and make you by noontime tomorrow the most famous officer in the British Army.”

Linton signed the paper and returned it to the inspector.

6. The Conclusion

The door of one four-wheeler opened and Sherlock Holmes stepped out. After him came a young man who resembled Tanny, and who must be Eric Soames. He was followed by a boy, his brother Andrew. Previously warned by Holmes, I prevented Tanny from rushing into Eric’s arms in front of the policemen.

Linton saw his two brothers and exclaimed, “You! And you!”

Hopkins said, “Your solicitors will be receiving visits from solicitors representing your brothers and wishing to settle your late father’s estate. I advise you to ensure it is done with scrupulous fairness. There will also be papers for you and your mother to sign, appointing Eric as Andrew’s guardian.”

Linton looked as if he were ready to choke.

The inspector continued, “You are free to go. If you wish, these two constables can bring you in their cab and drop you where you want.”

Eric gave the elegant, insouciant, yet warm and honest smile I recognized perfectly from Tanny’s account of him. “I owe you my life. It belongs wholly now to you. But then, of course, it always has.”

Tanny sobbed, “If you remember, I – owe you my – freedom too.”

We six got into the remaining four-wheeler, I next to Tanny and Eric, and Holmes next to Hopkins and Andrew. We gave the driver Tanny’s address and got under way.

Holmes said, “Andrew here has been one of the heroes of today. It’s good that he returned from Summer Half at school and was available. He met me by prearrangement at his front door with the key to Eric’s room, which he had borrowed. When his mother appeared as I was unlocking it, I was able to say it was by Andrew’s invitation. I convinced her it would be best for her late husband’s reputation to forestall a Scotland Yard enquiry by allowing Eric and Andrew to depart.”

Andrew blushed, and Tanny reached across to squeeze his hand and say, “Thank you, Andrew.”

Hopkins smiled to Tanny and Eric. “In the course of this investigation, I have heard various hints about both of you. I am entitled to discount them. I also understand that you are close friends and may wish to live together. But please, for all our sakes, do not allow any suspicion of activities with other persons to reach me.”

They assured him that they wouldn’t. I worried at first how they would support themselves without their usual employment, but then I realized that Tanny had his savings and Eric had some too, and also hopes now of an inheritance.

Holmes added, “Actually, I believe you will both be fully occupied. Tanny, forgive me, but I’ve presented your story to the Marquess of Ottenbury. He was chief of Her Majesty’s forces in Afghanistan during the time your father was there. As I expected, he has taken it as an insult that the young child of a man who fought and died under his command should have been forgotten and left so defenceless. It particularly outrages him that your education from Mr Kent was so superior to what your country would have given you.

“The Marquess has proposed reforms in the orphans’ and the veterans’ laws. He and his wife are also organizing two foundations, for boys and for girls. They will house poor children with exceptional ability, especially children of fallen servicemen, who will receive the best teaching England can offer. The Queen herself has become enthusiastic and has donated two properties to house them. Many of the nobility have contributed.

“The need is to find suitable persons for the daily administration. The Marquess and his wife are to be nominal heads, but are elderly. It has been suggested to Her Majesty that the Marquess might be seconded in the direction of the boys’ foundation by the middle son of General Soames and by the son of a sergeant who gave his life at Maiwand.”