The Adventure of the Devil's Foot
It’s going to be a lengthy post because this story is ripe with marital bliss and hurt/comfort.
1. “[...] Dr. Moore Agar, of Harley Street [...] gave positive injunctions that the famous private agent lay aside all his cases and surrender himself to complete rest if he wished to avert an absolute breakdown. The state of his health was not a matter in which he himself took the faintest interest, for his mental detachment was absolute, but he was induced at last, on the threat of being permanently disqualified from work, to give himself a complete change of scene and air.”
The issues with Holmes’s health must have been pretty serious indeed if Watson needed a second opinion to diagnose him, and moreover, to persuade him to drop everything and get some rest. It was Holmes’s personal record in disregarding his own well-being if some other doctor besides his own had to threaten him into taking a holiday. Even in The Adventure of the Reigate Squire Holmes wasn’t that pigheaded.
2. This is followed by a country idyll. I adore the plural possessive which is usually reserved for married couples (and they absolutely are):
“our little whitewashed house”, “Our simple life and peaceful, healthy routine”, “our little sitting-room”,“our breakfast hour as we were smoking together, preparatory to our daily excursion upon the moors.”
Peaceful and healthy routine, really—like sleeping in, regular meals, regular walks in open air, regular sex. Also, the diversity of Holmes’s interests never ceases to amaze me. A comparative analysis of a Celtic and a Semitic languages? Why the hell not? Piece of cake. But of course all Watson’s efforts were ruined when a case found them even there.
“The ancient Cornish language had also arrested his attention, and he had, I remember, conceived the idea that it was akin to the Chaldean, and had been largely derived from the Phoenician traders in tin. He had received a consignment of books upon philology and was settling down to develop this thesis when suddenly, to my sorrow and to his unfeigned delight,”
3. Watson, however, is too a determined fellow to give up that easily. He’s so protective of his Holmes. Holmes is amused and apologetic. Note “our peace” and “our cottage”, oh this possessive case again:
“I glared at the intrusive vicar with no very friendly eyes;”
“I had hoped that in some way I could coax my companion back into the quiet which had been the object of our journey; but one glance at his intense face and contracted eyebrows told me how vain was now the expectation. He sat for some little time in silence, absorbed in the strange drama which had broken in upon our peace.”
“My friend smiled and laid his hand upon my arm. “I think, Watson, that I shall resume that course of tobacco-poisoning which you have so often and so justly condemned,” said he. “With your permission, gentlemen, we will now return to our cottage [...]”
4. Here’s another evidence of how Watson is essential for Holmes’s thinking process. He’s like a catalyst—Holmes feels at ease and untroubled when his Watson is at his side, and it helps his brain to work more efficiently.
“Let us walk along the cliffs together”
There, Watson deduces Holmes’s mood and thoughts from his features again:
“he returned with a slow step and haggard face which assured me that he had made no great progress with his investigation.”
5. And then that infamous experiment with the lamp. Of course Watson wouldn’t leave Holmes to deal alone with danger, luckily for Holmes. It was pointed out many times before that Watson would do nigh impossible to keep Holmes from harm:
“Oh, you will see it out, will you? I thought I knew my Watson.”
“I broke through that cloud of despair and had a glimpse of Holmes's face, white, rigid, and drawn with horror—the very look which I had seen upon the features of the dead. It was that vision which gave me an instant of sanity and of strength. I dashed from my chair, threw my arms round Holmes, and together we lurched through the door, and an instant afterwards had thrown ourselves down upon the grass plot and were lying side by side”
6. Another instance of Holmes apologising to Watson. Holmes of the canon wasn’t rude and in most cases he readily admitted being wrong:
“Upon my word, Watson!” said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, “I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one's self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry.”
It’s a fun thing that Watson of the canon is less snarky than the Granada Watson. He’s so in love with his Holmes it hurts:
“You know,” I answered with some emotion, for I have never seen so much of Holmes's heart before, “that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.”
There was a glimpse of Holmes’s heart, a crack in the marble, as Jeremy Brett called it, and then Holmes retreats behind his shield of humour and cynicism. The point he makes is so true—they’re both crazy in a sense, because there’s no limit for him, and his Watson will follow him headlong into any mad endeavour to keep him safe.
He relapsed at once into the half-humorous, half-cynical vein which was his habitual attitude to those about him. “It would be superfluous to drive us mad, my dear Watson,” said he. “A candid observer would certainly declare that we were so already before we embarked upon so wild an experiment.”
7. If anything threatens Holmes, Watson is ready to protect Holmes, no matter how formidable an opponent can be. It happens throughout many cases, and it is so beautiful:
“For a moment I wished that I were armed. Sterndale's fierce face turned to a dusky red, his eyes glared, and the knotted, passionate veins started out in his forehead, while he sprang forward with clenched hands towards my companion.”
8. For a person who claims to have never loved, Holmes knows and understands what love is really well. Would he be able to, if it were a completely alien notion to him?
“I have never loved, Watson, but if I did and if the woman I loved had met such an end, I might act even as our lawless lion-hunter has done.”
