Honestly surprised that Lucy Hebron doesn't get more attention in media focusing on the Sherlock Holmes extended universe.
Like, you're born in Atlanta Georgia sometime in the 1880s. Your mother is a white English immigrant. Your father is an African American lawyer who has managed to become fairly wealthy off his practice.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle claims that your parents were married, but they almost certainly weren't or, if they were, they probably had to go elsewhere to get married and their marriage wouldn't have been recognised in Georgia. Realistically, they were facing huge amounts of prejudice that are only increased when you are born.
(Your mother openly says, in front of you when you're older, that it is a âgreat misfortuneâ that you were born with darker skin than even your father.)
Then disaster strikes. Your father dies. Your mother can't stand to stay in America without him and returns to England.
She does not take you with her. She says this is because of your health. It's just way healthier for you to stay where you are, as a parentless mixed race child in the Jim Crow era American South. Rather than going with your only living relative to England (which, while obviously still very racist, at least doesn't have any actual laws against people like you existing).
Your mother meets a new man. A merchant. He's white. She signs over all your father's money and investments to him when they marry. She doesn't tell him about you. She's worried he wouldn't understand. She later explains that this was a major ordeal for her. That she struggled in vain to resist the urge to send for you for three years, until it got too much to bear.
So now you live in England. In a cottage on the estate that was partly paid for by your father's money.
You're not allowed to leave the cottage, because if anyone sees you outside in the daylight then they might find out that you're black. While you're in the cottage, even (apparently) at nighttime, you are made to wear long gloves and a fucking mask, so that nobody can accidentally look through the window and find out that you're black.
Your mother visits you occasionally. She tells you that you're her âown girlie and mother's petâ whether you're âdark or fairâ. When her husband comes to see what's going on, you and your nurse get shoved out the back door so he won't see you and find out that you're black.
Unfortunately, your stepfather has noticed that his wife keeps randomly going off in the middle of the night to visit a mysterious cottage where the only inhabitant seem to be a weirdly secretive servant woman and a strange masked figure, and has decided that something Fucked Up is going on.
So he goes to consult the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes. Normally, the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes can work this kind of shit out in his sleep, but unfortunately your family is so dysfunctional that you override his borderline magical deduction abilities, and the best theory he can come up with is either âsecret affairâ or âweirdly convoluted blackmail schemeâ.
Fortunately however, this does lead to your stepfather eventually meeting you and finding out who you are. Including the fact that you're black.
Turns out he's fine with it.
Like completely. Quite possibly more so than your own mother is. Turns out there was no need for the traumatic abandonment, the years of separation and then the even more traumatic being forced to live like The Man In The Iron Mask in a cottage in the middle of nowhere.
Nope. Turns out you could have been allowed to go outside in daylight this entire time. You all go back to the big house (that was paid for in part with your father's investments) together and we never find out what happens to you.
I mean⊠what. The. Fuck.
Like, I'm not expecting Sir Arthur CD to have written an entire child psychology textbook to go with what was meant to be a fun little short story about racial tolerance, but holy shit.
I want a book about teenage Lucy Hebron at boarding school dealing with all the fucked up shit that went on in her childhood whilst also solving mysteries with the help of correspondence from her friend and mentor Sherlock Holmes. I want that shit yesterday.
