Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Romance

From Sir ACD's online biography:

…[Sir Arthur] Conan Doyle wrote a play about Sherlock Holmes...The very successful American actor William Gillette having read the script, asked for permission to revise it. Conan Doyle agreed, and when the actor asked permission to alter the Holmes persona, he replied, "You may marry him, murder him, or do anything you like to him."

A/N: So this is me doing anything I like to him – marrying him but not murdering him. The character of Molly Hooper is temporarily borrowed from BBC's "Sherlock" and the other characters are temporarily borrowed from the wonderful Robert Downey, Jr. & Jude Law "Sherlock Holmes" movies. Oh, originally posted on tumblr and heavily revised and edited and corrected since then!

From the private journals of Dr. John H. Watson

The first meeting between my good friend Sherlock Holmes and the woman who would become his wife was, to say the least, not an auspicious one.

I had stopped by Baker Street to announce the happy news that my dear wife, Mary, was expecting our first child in six months' time, only to discover Holmes clattering down the stairs from his flat, struggling to adjust his cravat whilst simultaneously stuffing his unlit pipe into his coat pocket. "Ah, Watson, just the man! Come along, we don't want to be late!"

"Late for what, Holmes?" I called out as I turned and exited the building, pulling the door closed behind me.

As always, a Hansom cab appeared just as Holmes stretched out his hand, and soon we two were ensconced in the stuffy interior, on our way to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where we were apparently to interview the newest pathologist on staff, one Dr. M. Hooper.

"Stamford sent me a message," Holmes explained when I breathlessly demanded to know why we were going to that esteemed hospital. "He's asked me to evaluate this new fellow's skills and give my opinion as to his suitability for the work. Your opinion will be of some small value as well," he added, directing a sly grin in my direction.

I ignored the gibe, having grown used to his manner in the many years we'd known one another, and concentrated on the gist of his statement. "A new pathologist, eh? Surely he's hired pathologists in years past; why does he require your opinion of this one in particular?"

Holmes shrugged, pulling out his pipe and fussing over it. "Isn't it obvious, Watson?" he asked after several puffs of noxious smoke had thickened the air around us.

I couldn't help the sigh of annoyance that escaped my lips; to Holmes, everything was 'obvious'. I gave a pointed cough and waved my hand about to clear the air, with no success. "No, Holmes, it most certainly is not," I replied firmly. "Please, spell it out for me."

He glanced at me, huffed out an annoyed sigh of his own, and deigned to respond. "Stamford clearly has some uncertainties regarding this new hire, and wishes me to help ascertain if he's made an error in bringing this new man on staff. The message arrived shortly after this morning's papers would have been read by the good doctor, who is as much a creature of habit as you are in the mornings, and today's headlines should explain the rest."

A bomb had exploded the previous evening at a meeting hall where a well-known group of suffragettes were about to gather. The newspapers had delighted in describing the anxiety and distress suffered by the ladies, none of whom had thankfully entered the building as of yet. The more liberal newspapers had decried the act while at the same time gleefully pointing out that the building was actually owned by a member of the House of Lords, one who was most vociferous against women's rights. "You believe Stamford is concerned that this new employee is somehow connected to the bombing?" I asked, puzzling it out as best I could.

Holmes beamed at me as though I were a prize pupil. "Well done, Watson! I see my methods have finally rubbed off on you! Yes, Stamford's concerns were made quite clear in his message." Clenching his pipe between his teeth, he reached into his jacket pocket and whipped out the piece of paper in question, handing it to me to read.

"Come by St. Bart's this morning if convenient on a matter of some urgency. I have some concerns regarding our newest pathologist, Dr. M. Hooper, that I wish to discuss with you after you have had the opportunity to perform a skills evaluation and perhaps an interview. Yours, Dr. M. Stamford," I read aloud.

"Clearly he has had second thoughts and hopes that I can discover some reason to revoke the offer of employment." Holmes' eyes were gleeful as he gazed at his steepled fingers, raised to his lips in a familiar manner, indicating that his remarkable brain was already hard at work on the matter. "As New Scotland Yard has had no interesting cases to present me of late, I agreed to share my expertise, although it hardly matters one way or the other if the fellow turns out to be an ill-advised hire."

"Holmes!" I protested, aghast at his callous indifference to the possibility that he might be about to ruin some poor, unsuspecting man's life. "Surely it would be preferable if you were to discover that Stamford has instead found his new employee to be a perfectly respectable physician with no connection to the bombing!"

Holmes shrugged indifferently. "Either way, as I said, it makes no difference in the end. It is simply a small puzzle to be worked out, undoubtedly in less time than this cab ride shall take. Now do be quiet, Watson, I wish to think more on the matter." And he closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the cab.

I recognized the signs; further attempts at either protest or genial conversation would be ignored equally, or else met with sharp words meant to quell any attempt at speech. I therefore did as he requested, albeit unwillingly, and the remainder of the ride was spent in silence.

oOo

Upon our arrival at St. Bartholomew's, or St. Bart's as Stamford had so whimsically abbreviated it in his message, we were met by the man himself, who it appeared had been most anxious to greet Holmes personally before sending him to the basement morgue where the new pathologist awaited him. He greeted me effusively as well, and congratulated me when I belatedly remembered that I had originally gone to Baker Street to share the good news regarding my wife's pregnancy. I had a moment of discomfort in knowing that I had actually forgotten my excitement over the matter in light of Holmes' enthusiasm for this very visit, but set it aside, knowing that my darling Mary would certainly forgive me for getting so caught up in the possibility of denouncing an anarchist – or, more agreeably, confirming a man's innocence.

Holmes of course ignored the announcement, concentrating instead on deducing things about Stamford. "Ah, you were so agitated about this morning's newspaper accounts of the bombing that you were unable to break your fast until a few minutes ago, and left your home in too much of a hurry to allow your wife to fuss over your appearance as she usually does." He followed that statement up by brushing some crumbs from Stamford's jacket and straightening his tie, his eyes flickering toward the stout man's ink-stained fingers before once again meeting his gaze. "I can see that you are quite concerned that this new pathologist is connected to the bombings," he announced as he started down the corridor leading to the stairs. "You feel you've made an error in hiring him, and seek my expertise in either confirming this or, as you would much rather hear, eliminating your suspicions."

Stamford gave me a bemused glance before hurrying to follow Holmes' energetic strides. I also hurried my steps, interested to hear Stamford's response as it had been on my mind as well. "It's not that I'm worried Dr. Hooper will be a danger to the hospital; quite the contrary, Holmes. I'm concerned that others will perceive Dr. Hooper as...well, you'll soon see," he concluded in an indeterminate manner as Holmes bounded down the stairs.

I paused when Stamford did, giving him a curious look. He merely shook his head and gestured for me to accompany my over-enthusiastic friend. "You'll see what I mean, Dr. Watson. I look forward to discussing the matter with the two of you when Holmes has concluded the interview, and I'll wait for you in my office." He hesitated, then added: "Just...please do your best to keep him from saying anything too harsh, if you can."

With that enigmatic statement, he turned and retraced his steps, leaving me to follow Holmes, my mind buzzing with questions and half-formed theories as to why our old friend was behaving so oddly. I believed him when he said he felt Dr. Hooper was no danger to the hospital, but if he wasn't concerned about the man's political leanings or connection to the bombings, then what, exactly, could the problem be?

The answer to every question I had was answered as soon as I reached Holmes' side. He thrust open the door to the morgue, and was rewarded for his impulsive efforts – the man never did remember that he should first knock when entering a room – by the sound of a dismayed shout and a loud crash as the ladder that had been leaning against the wall fell to the floor.

A dismayed shout which my confused mind quickly recognized as being distinctly feminine in nature. This fact was confirmed by the sight of the woman Holmes had caught in his arms as she fell. She was a petite, auburn-haired, elfin featured young lady, wearing a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles that had slid down her nose, giving her a rather endearing air of scholarly dishevelment. Her arms were loosely entwined around Holmes' shoulders, and he held her easily, as if she weighed little more than the air through which she'd fallen.

As he gazed down at her, I saw an expression on Holmes' face that I'd only ever seen directed at one other woman, the late Irene Adler; a certain softness coupled with a keen interest. The woman in his arms wore an expression of dazed interest that very much matched his own, and I felt a smile spread across my lips at the sight.

"Well," Holmes said after he and the young lady had spent a long moment gazing at one another, "although the circumstances are not ideal, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Dr. Hooper."