"I have never loved" [DEVI]
The linking of Valentine’s Day and love started in Europe in the Middle Ages, continued with written notes of verse in the 1500s and evolved in to giving tokens of affection, sometimes left anonymously on the doorstep of the beloved. Gloves were a popular gift because the name contained the word love. Flowers became widespread in the 1700s when Charles II of Sweden imported selam, the old Persian art of the
language of flowers to the West where it evolved to specific flowers and fruits having specific meanings, the giving of which conveyed messages to the receiver.
writes Watson in "The Final Problem," giving a headache that chronologist masochistically enjoy. Which three? Well, certainly "The Adventure of the Red Headed League" gets an almost unanimous nod, and "The Adventure of the Copper Beeches," with its list of cases from the first year of Watson’s marriage comes in a close second. That leaves an opening for only one other case.
“You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland…" [REDH], which would seem to settle it; "A Case of Identity" it is, except most chronologists are loath to put it in 1890, because in "The Adventure of the Dying Detective," Mrs. Hudson visits Watson “in the second year of my married life,” which would put it in 1890, if Watson was married in 1888 and if this is not a reference to the doctor's second marriage. Oh, Watson, why didn’t you tell us when the start of your “own complete happiness” began? The majority of chronologists relegate "A Case of Identity" to 1889.
*Despite the sexy title, it is a monograph which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure Sherlockiana that it is said that there is no one in the Holmesian world capable of understanding it.
The “maiden,” as Holmes calls Mary Sutherland, asks Holmes to find her missing fiancé, Hosmer Angel. That budding mathematician, that doctor with an eye for figures, Watson, finds something slightly ridiculous and wanting in the new client,
“a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess-of-Devonshire fashion over her ear…. the boy in buttons entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchantman behind a tiny pilot boat.”
And he later notes her “...preposterous hat and the vacuous face.”
Angel disappeared from the cab in front of St. Savior’s Church on a Friday, which according to Mary’s “Missing” ad was the morning of the 14th. In 1890, the fourteenth fell on a Friday in February, March and November. November would be too late, for that would occur after "The Red Headed League" in October. Traditionally, weddings are not held during Lent (and this was to be a church wedding); Ash Wednesday was on February 19 and Easter on April 6, which eliminates March. So the perfidious James Windibank planned for Hosmer Angel to vanish on Valentine’s Day! The most romantic date on the calendar now becomes the most tragic day of Mary Sutherland’s life.
Holmes feels some sympathy for Miss Sutherland: “Quite an interesting study, that maiden. I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one….But the maiden herself was most instructive." And harbors something of a deep protectiveness: “But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel, and selfish, and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.” Holmes comes across as a chaste knight errant to a maiden who he judges, rightly or not, as unable to protect herself, leading to his famous quote to Windibank, “I’d horsewhip you, if I had a horse.” No, wait that was
Groucho Marx.
"The law cannot, as you say, touch you,” said Holmes, unlocking and throwing open the door, “yet there never was a man who deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!” he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, “it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting-crop handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to—" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road.
But Holmes’ gallantry goes too far:
“And Miss Sutherland?”
“If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.’ There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world.”
Did he really think she was too delicate and psychologically fragile to handle the truth? Perhaps to spend the rest of her life as a spinster, never to find true love? Or did he think that the danger of snatched delusions was more physic than psychic—for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction? Indeed, did he see a different type of passion in the depths of Mary's astigmatic eyes? Did those parallel cases in Andover in '77 and The Hague “last year” have a victim who sought her revenge? Poison in the family soup? Forty whacks with a handy ax?
Whatever his reasoning, Holmes was overprotective of his client, treating her like a child, not a woman. Leave it to Watson, with experience of the “fair sex”
over three continents and many nations to adjudge correctly. After a cooling period of a year, he unveiled the treachery of her step-father to her and to the public, perhaps also stopping a cold-blooded scoundrel in his rise from crime to crime.
Maybe Watson thought Mary's published humiliation was the just the shake of the shoulders she needed to wake her up and move on with her life. Cupid’s arrows wound all heels as well as bring the sting of love.