#the sign of the four

[from-the-desk-of-john-watson]

“Yes, I have been guilty of several monographs. They are all upon technical subjects. Here, for example, is one ‘Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccoes.’ In it I enumerate a hundred and forty forms of cigar, cigarette, and pipe tobacco, with colored plates illustrating the difference in the ash. It is a point which is continually turning up in criminal trials, and which is sometimes of supreme importance as a clue...To the trained eye there is as much difference between the black ash of a Trichinopoly and the white fluff of bird’s-eye as there is between a cabbage and a potato.”

“You have an extraordinary genius for minutiae,” I remarked.

“I appreciate their importance. Here is my monograph upon the tracing of footsteps, with some remarks upon the uses of plaster of Paris as a preserver of impresses. Here, too, is a curious little work upon the influence of a trade upon the form of the hand, with lithotypes of the hands of slaters, sailors, corkcutters, compositors, weavers, and diamond-polishers. That is a matter of great practical interest to the scientific detective—especially in cases of unclaimed bodies, or in discovering the antecedents of criminals. But I weary you with my hobby.”

“Not at all,” I answered, earnestly. “It is of the greatest interest to me, especially since I have had the opportunity of observing your practical application of it.”

- The Sign of the Four

[desiccatedthyme]

6th October

"Drug Abuse/Addiction"

i burned myself out and couldnt hold a pencil for a few days, so this one is late! it's a redraw of an old piece. unfortunately, i didnt do it on such a scale as to include the mood patches from the original ^^" one must assume that for him, there was still the cocaine bottle.

[detectivejay]

I began writing this post before and lost my draft when I went to check how far along “Letters from Watson” is, so here it is without preamble. Lesson learned. 😆 (It appears to be up to The Hound of the Baskervilles at the time of this post.)

If you chose some combination of the short story collections and novels, I’d love to hear which ones in the comments and tags!

Please reblog for a larger sample size. :)

[tremendously-crazy]

Possible spoilers!

If you can't tell if use humor to cope 😭

[therulerofallpotatos]

Love reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle because you see Sherlock do some random super sweet and kind shit and then Watson be a rude ass little fucker in the same page and it's lowkey enough you may miss it but damn bitch, Judgy much?

[red-umbrella-811]

H: Why’d you have to add a romantic subplot :[[[

W: That literally happened; it was the backstory and motive for the entire murders; it was crucial to the story

H: Well maybe you should have skipped it anyway

[thefisherqueen]

I sprang from my chair and limped impatiently about the room with considerable bitterness in my heart. “This is unworthy of you, Holmes,” I said. “I could not have believed that you would have descended to this. You have made inquires into the history of my unhappy brother, and you now pretend to deduce this knowledge in some fanciful way. You cannot expect me to believe that you have read all this from his old watch! It is unkind, and, to speak plainly, has a touch of charlatanism in it.” “My dear doctor,” said he, kindly, “pray accept my apologies. Viewing the matter as an abstract problem, I had forgotten how personal and painful a thing it might be to you. I assure you, however, that I never even knew that you had a brother until you handed me the watch.”

This is such a touching passage. It shows us a piece of Watson's personal history, and his continued pain about it, and shows us as well that while it is true that Sherlock Holmes can get carried away in his work occasionally and then forget to consider other's feelings, he also is able to recognise them very well and apologise for his insensitivity. This has to be a significant point in Watson's and Holmes' relationship

[lunaxart]

Sherlock, John and Mari on the train journey in "the sign of the four part 5" made me sob, i love them so much.

[starlostlix]

Some of my favourite moments of MTP Volume 11 (since I just read it for the first time yesterday)

[I don't have any meta theory content right now tbh I'm too preoccupied with exams, I had started a whole thing about depictions of brotherhood in the series that's kind of interesting but idk if i'll finish it. Also I took pictures of the physical volume so sorry for my camerawork)

1) Jealous Sherlock Holmes and Miss Hudson calling him out. She's iconic and him being in denial about being jealous is funny as hell.

2) Whatever this is (Sherlock buddy I know what you are because why is William living rent free in your head bro)

3) More jealous Sherlock Holmes, he's literally third wheeling in the first picture and he's so pissed about it.

4) TOBYYYYY

5) William showing up in this double page spread between chapters despite having no plot relevance in this volume

6) This panel is fun idk

7) I don't have any pictures for this but Mary Morstan being the one to figure out that there's 2 intruders go queen. Also the whole Sherlock vs Mary 'mind games' type stuff is so much better in the manga than the anime they watered her down so bad.

That's all for now but I could probably write a lot about Mary's character and Sherlock's responses to her and his tests to try and find out her real goals because in the manga she's so much more interesting. I should be reading volume 12 soon which means I could potentially have a ton to talk about but also alevel exams are taking up a lot of brainpower right now so idk when that will be lmao.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

"Hey Holmes can I test your brain powers"

"Fuck yeah, it might stop me from being bored enough to take more cocaine"

[stephensmithuk]

Sorry, Mary, your Dad was corrupt

The jewels had belonged to one of the local rulers in India that the East India Company and later the British Raj used to run a good chunk of their empire in the Indian subcontinent. It was cheaper there and elsewhere in the Empire to use local rulers where possible to run some of their territory - they also just didn't have the numbers to garrison it all themselves.

The Rajah (ruler) in question had decided to split his money and jewels to cover himself for both possible outcomes in the 1857-1858 Indian Rebellion. He had then sided with the rebels and so was legally a traitor to the East India Company, which entitled them to, once he had been convicted of treason (which could be done in absentia) to seize all his estates and property. It would not be passed down to any heirs.

Small and the other three members decide to rob his courier and take the treasure for themselves, so it doesn't end up in the EIC's hands.

When Sholto is told by Small about the hidden treasure, he would be obligated to inform the higher-ups so it could be returned to the Raj (which had taken over operations) or perhaps more morally but far less likely, the rajah's successor.

Instead with Morstan's connivance, they choose not to report it and keep it for themselves. That's textbook corruption in a public office.

It's a good thing, in a way, it went into the river. Even that box is technically stolen property, so Mary can't sell that.

Apart from the marriage proposal, it's not been a great week for Mary Morstan.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Romance

After Holmes had arrested Jefferson Hope, and I had had a discussion with him that I was going to publish the story in The Strand - to let everyone know who had really solved the case - Holmes had agreed.

A better explanation would be that Holmes did not care. It did not matter to him who received the credit for solving the case in the newspapers. However, it did matter to me. Very much, in fact.

In what world was it fair for the police officers at Scotland Yard to take help from Holmes to solve the case every step of the way and not even thank him publicly? It simply could not happen. Not on my watch.

After having published the story, I decided to show it to Holmes. I was quite enthusiastic about it.

However, I had not expected Holmes to react so badly.

When I brought up the conversation, whilst he was consuming his damn cocaine - with his long and thin legs stretched out on the coffee table - he shook his head ruefully.

“I glanced over it,” said he. “Honestly, I cannot congratulate you upon it. Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid.”

“But the romance was there,” I remonstrated. “I could not tamper with the facts."

I had feared that this conversation might be going in a dangerous direction. Holmes was not insinuating the obviousness of my feelings for him - that had developed over time - was he?

Well, if he decided to spell it out, I would not hesitate to remind him about how much he had blushed after listening to my compliments about his detective work.

I could not say anything for sure, but as time passed, I had a feeling that there was something between us. A connection, of sorts. One that went beyond what a couple of flatmates usually had.

Holmes may have a habit of pretending that he preferred to be unemotional, but I was his closest friend. I lived with him. I might not be as brilliant as he was, but I could tell that he did not mean it.

"Some facts should be suppressed, or at least a just sense of proportion should be observed in treating them. The only point in the case which deserved mention was the curious analytical reasoning from effects to causes by which I succeeded in unraveling it.”

I was annoyed at this criticism of a work that had been specially designed to please him. Moreover, I was hurt to know that he would deviate this much from the truth.

Maybe I had miscalculated. Probably it was only I who felt the connection between us. Not him. I frowned at the thought and swallowed as I stopped pacing and took a seat on my armchair across from Holmes in the sitting room.

I was willing to speak up this time, though.

I inhaled deeply and held my breath as I spoke. "And why, pray tell, do you want to suppress the facts, specifically about romance? Is it because the same facts hit too close to home?"

Holmes came out of his dazed state, dropped his legs on the floor, and sat up straight with his grey eyes widened.

"What are you getting at, Watson?" asked Holmes cautiously.

"We have not been friends for that long, but for what little time I have known you, I've developed a profound respect for you and your work. There is more to it, however. I have grown to have feelings for you. Romantic feelings, in particular."

Holmes leaned forward in his chair and pinned me with an intense gaze. Fortunately, he did not try to interrupt me.

"I think that you have, too. Although I could be extremely wrong on that part, it makes little sense for you, of all people, to want to suppress the facts and events that happened for real. So, I want to know: Am I right about the real reason or not? I would certainly understand if I am completely off the mark and you do not feel the same, but I need to know."

I breathed deeply after having blurted all that out, hoping to dear Lord that I had not messed up everything and ruined our friendship.

"Oh, dear Watson," Holmes breathed. His long and thin fingers were tapping on his sinewy lap vigorously. "You are so exactly on point sometimes. Everything you said - all of it... I feel the same way."

My heart fluttered with excitement and happiness. A ridiculously wide smile spread across my face. It looked as though he wanted to say more, so I let him.

Holmes continued. "And yes, I do not wish for the whole world to know about it through your stories. I see I was a bit too harsh about it, moments ago. I apologise."

Holmes got up to make sure the door was shut and the window curtains had been drawn. They were. Holmes then walked across the room to approach me. I was still sitting, so he looked down at me with the same intensity as before.

I looked up to meet his gaze and locked my eyes with him.

He held out his pale hand to me in an offer.

My heart pounded as I took that hand and got up to meet his eye level.

His eyes were filled with longingness and pain. His brows were furrowed. "The world will never forgive us. They will never acknowledge that we are just two people in love who happen to be men."

He was right, as always. My eyes welled up as I gulped. I was still holding his hand, which felt warm and dry in mine.

"I know. Do you think this is a bad idea, then?" I tried to be prepared for the worst. 'Tried'.

Holmes placed his other hand on my waist and pulled me close. Our faces were just inches away. "I never said that, Watson. I was never the one to go with the rules, was I?"

We both shared a short laugh. Without another word, we leaned in and I captured his bottom lip with my mouth.

He made a desperate sound and we deepened the kiss with our arms wrapped around each other tightly. The dam had broken, and we were unable to let go for a whole minute.

I pulled away reluctantly. "Holmes, I-"

"Sherlock."

My ears had been aching to hear that correction. "Sherlock, I was saying that we need to deal with this in a practical way as well. I will not forgive myself if we were to be arrested because of this," I said with my brows furrowed.

"You are right," he said, holding my face in his hands.

"I suppose we would have to confine our relationship to the rooms of this flat." My heart was heavy.

My lover's ethereal grey eyes lit up with a mischievous glint in them. Christ, the effect those eyes always had on me.

"I have a plan."

Of course, he did. I was now looking at him with expectation and pride.

"You are going to have to marry a woman."

"What the deuce are you -"

"Shh." Sherlock placed a long finger on my mouth. "Just listen. That woman is a distant relative of mine. She is going to be our next client too. Her name is Mary Morstan."

I still did not get what was going on. Was he already pushing me away?

"For God's sake, do not look so heartbroken," he said and pulled my face close by my chin to press another kiss on my mouth.

"Her situation is just like ours. She has fallen in love with another woman too. Only I knew about that until now. She is in a constant state of having to look over her shoulder, trying to keep the prying eyes of this cruel world away. It occurred to me just now that if you married her, we would not have to worry about society anymore. It would be helpful for all four of us."

I sighed in relief and gave this whole thing a thought for a moment. "Excellent plan, Sherlock. This is brilliant!"

Sherlock smiled and looked down as he blushed.

"Just remember to never be on a first-name basis in public. John."

I grinned from ear to ear like an idiot, before pulling him in for a slow, drawn-out kiss again.

I knew what I had to do next. I just had to twist the facts in my next story to make it look like I was in love with Mary or whatever her name was.

Now, nobody would speculate a thing about Holmes and I, would they?

***

Sherlock September Challenge

Prompt Romance by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @lookingforlifeoutthere @clueless-mp4 @missdeliadili @curlyjohnlock @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear @kettykika78 @calaisreno

[myemuisemo]

In both #3 and #4 of the Letters from Watson for The SIgn of the Four, Watson loses his mind and babbles when he's trying to have a conversation in the presence of Mary Morstan, and I'm here for it.

For the rest of these two letters, especially #4, I feel like I've stumbled into a story by Edgar Allen Poe or Wilkie Collins. Mr. Thaddeus Sholto feels like exactly what would happen if a colorful Wilkie Collins character -- say, the terrifyingly affable, rotund Count Fosco from The Woman in White -- stumbled into Holmes' world of deduction and logic.

Thaddeus Sholto had me digging for physiognomy texts, as that protruding lower lip feels like a detail meant to say something specific in an era that took "facial composition as a sign of character" very seriously.

The Pocket Lavatar (1817) gives us one possible interpretation:

When the lower lip projects beyond the upper, it denotes negative goodness.

Also, relevant to Sholto's watery blue eyes:

Blue eyes are frequently found in persons of phlegmatic character; they are often indications of feebleness and effeminacy.

Physiognomy and phrenology both had multiple rounds of being in fashion in the 19th century, with different gurus disagreeing on what exactly your nose or the shape of your skull meant. The whole field is, of course, wildly racist, with a garnish of ableism and a drizzle of classism. It was also a fairly familiar vocabulary to contemporary readers.

Meanwhile, I feel like every reference to Thaddeus Sholto's snobby little habits is meant to make the reader chuckle at his pretentiousness and poor taste, but I can't prove it.

Since the premise of this story seems to require acting as if plundering India for gems and wealth is okay, my hackles went up at referring to Major Sholto's long-time Indian servant as Chowdar. Turns out this was a common transliteration of a name we'd now render more like Chaudhuri.

(Major Sholto had had malaria, by the way, as evidenced from the quinine bottle present when he received his startling letter. It's likely that malaria contributed to his fragile health.)

Major Sholto's relationship with his manservant Lal Chowdar is solid enough that they hide a body together, but I have to raise an eyebrow at the major's naivete.

If my own servant could not believe my innocence, how could I hope to make it good before twelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box?

His own servant saw how he behaved in India and probably has an accurate view of his ethics. That he'd kill out of greed happens to be wrong in this case (assuming a reliable narrator, which is a big assumption).

A face was looking in at us out of the darkness. We could see the whitening of the nose where it was pressed against the glass. It was a bearded, hairy face, with wild cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence. 

My bet was "monkey," but then the Sholtos found boot prints, so either it's a monkey that wears shoes, or it's a man. Oh well.

My hackles weren't up about taking Miss Morstan's mysterious pearls from a "chaplet," but they should have been. I blush to admit that I was envisioning some sort of tiara -- but I googled before making a fool of myself and discovered that a chaplet is prayer beads. It's like a rosary, but not all chaplets are rosaries, and not all rosaries are chaplets. Is this an Anglican chaplet made from stolen gems, or were Sholto, Morstan, and their friends straight-up stealing prayer beads of another culture?

Honestly, I'm up for the Sholtos being actively cursed, but since Holmes is a rationalist, I'm also up for the more plausible outcome of their actions having brought mundane vengeance down upon their heads.

[tremendously-crazy]

GUYS???? SHERLOCK & CO IS DOING THE SIGN OF THE FOUR GUYS AND ITS APPARENTLY GONNA BE 10 PARTS OMG IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH GUYS GUYSSSS

[emmahasadhd]

"Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa, and see if I can put you to sleep."

He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air,- his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation.

A. C. Doyle- The Sign of the Four

( My headcanon includes a lavender marriage with Mary, so I find this to be one of the best scenes ever)

[red-umbrella-811]

My guy you wrote a book that was basically about his own special doings you created this situation for yourself