Already a subscriber? Log in
Holmes’s words were uttered in a delirium, for he sat in his lodgings, not a hansom cab, and the institution he spoke of had no existence. That keen mind, blunted by a fatal fondness for narcotics, now rambled dementedly. As a medical man I deplored his habits; yet I could not desert him. Once again, I summoned Mrs Hudson. ‘This is Mrs Snodgrass, Principal of the Society,’ I explained.
‘Ah yes,’ said Holmes. ‘A lady who once resided in the Malay Peninsula, has worked as a milliner, a pearl-diver and the corresponding secretary of a badminton club, breeds ptarmigan as an avocation and was successfully treated for St Vitus’s dance in Lisbon. I further observe that she has recently attended vespers at Brompton Oratory.’
‘Astonishing!’ we both gasped. ‘Uncanny!’ In truth it was a bitter charade, but performed out of love.
Basil Ransome-Davies
‘There, in one crewel stroke,’ Holmes confided, ‘I will disentangle the ravelled skein of a remarkable yarn for your somewhat embellished chronicles of our little adventures. I am immodest enough to confess authorship of a monograph elucidating how the Smyrna Cross, Algerian Eye, Bokhara Couching, Cretan and Chiara stitches might be used to convey coded messages of State. I have also perceived the deft crocheting of your waistcoat, my dear Watson, from which I infer you are aware that the School has a unique reputation for hand embroidery. What I alone know, however, is that its founder, our dear Queen’s second daughter, Princess Christian …But, halloa! Its imposing portals are before us!’
Looking up, I saw a heavy curtain twitch. A small, round, black-bonneted face peered out. ‘Holmes!’ I ejaculated. ‘Hush, Watson,’ he whispered. ‘Her Majesty awaits….’
David Loshak
‘As you may know, Watson,’ said Holmes, answering my unspoken question, ‘we have in our midst a notable from the Almanach de Gotha.’
‘Archduke F— ’ ‘This personage,’ said he, shooting a warning glance towards our driver, ‘is this morning to be presented with a tapestry worked by the good ladies of the Society to commemorate his visit. For fear of some incident instigated by Balkan insurrectionists, our friend Inspector Lestrade has been charged with providing police protection. I was privy to his arrangements, which seemed sound until he received some telegraphic intelligence not divulged to me. On that basis he committed his forces to searching the cloacal tunnels beneath our city.’
‘For good reason, presumably.’
‘I wish it were so. Unfortunately, on reflection I much fear that the good Inspector, oblivious of what may be achieved with a bare bodkin, has misconstrued the word “sewer”. Pray God we are in time.’
W.J. Webster
Only when the cab was clear of Marylebone did Holmes offer an explanation of our precipitate departure. ‘This is a potential crime, Watson,’ he said, ‘which might, if it succeeds, destroy a royal house.’
‘I hardly see …’ I began, but Holmes cut me short.
‘I’d lay odds that you’re familiar with the Bayeux Tapestry, but not with the Skopje Arras, its Macedonian equivalent, a fascinating endeavour which I may well include in a trifling monograph on lineage that I’m composing. It’s a pictorial account of the Battle of Belgrade, but between the figures, woven in barely perceptible thread, is the Reizenschein family tree. If what the milliner told us is true, the mysterious Lithuanian sempstress has been unpicking and replacing threads. I need hardly explain how this might affect their Highnesses. Faster, driver! And, Watson, we’re about to visit needleworkers; your revolver is spoiling the line of your Norfolk jacket.’
Gerard Benson
I could tell that my companion was singularly aroused, and took the reins. A lady with a haggard expression came to the door.
‘You are a Scot?’ Sherlock Holmes’s voice had become preternaturally hoarse. To my surprise, the lady looked, not at Holmes, but directly at myself.
‘Miss Winifred Soutar,’ she confessed, extending an unsteady hand. Immediately, I recognised that her eyes were bereft of vision. ‘Miss Soutar,’ continued Holmes, producing some exquisite embroidery, ‘you are an Ayrshire flowerer, are you not? Pray, examine this piece of whitework.’
She duly complied. ‘Whitework has driven many Ayrshire seamstresses blind,’ remarked Holmes. ‘Stitching white upon white exasperates the eyes. Satin threads on our victim were suggestive of embroidery but only a sightless needleworker would have murdered entirely the wrong man. Take care, Watson!’ His speech was uncommonly timely, as Miss Soutar plunged a needle into the incorporeal air I had lately vacated.
Bill Greenwell
In an instant we were rattling through Whitechapel. Sitting forward eagerly in his seat, Holmes explained the purpose of our journey. ‘The art and science of detection resemble those of needlework, Watson. The thread; the pattern; the stitching together; the whole thing finally sewn up.’
‘But, Holmes, you of all men have little need of instruction in such matters,’ said I.
‘That is incontestable,’ he replied with a faint smile. ‘However, the same cannot be said of yourself. I have long felt that could I but acquaint you with the principles of detection in some more concrete fashion —’
‘Holmes!’ I wailed. ‘I am not a proud man, but—’
He laid a restraining hand on my knee. ‘There is an additional reason,’ said he. ‘Climbing into the cab you sustained an injury to your trousers the extent of which would embarrass even Mrs Hudson …’.
Richard Ellis
No. 2438: Beastly behaviour
You are invited to write, in the spirit of Aesop or La Fontaine, a rhymed fable involving animals. Maximum 16 lines. Entries to ‘Competition No. 2438’ by 6 April.
Also in Society
Latest
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in