Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes

A Game?

It was Christmas of the year 1883. I still held my lodgings at Baker Street at that time.
Although my friendship with Mr Sherlock Holmes was, I suppose, still in its infancy;
through accompanying him on some of his investigations, a few of which I have already
documented in this very chronicle, I had begun to feel quite close to him, insofar as one
can become close to a man with a nature such as his. I was, however, ever-eager to
ingratiate myself with my fellow lodger and so on the eve of Christmas, having returned
to 221B full of festive cheer I endeavoured to involve him in the spirit of the season.
How about a game Holmes? I suggested enthusiastically.
He raised his eyes languidly from the newspaper he was studying with the air of one who
has suffered an unwanted interruption to his thoughts. They remained raised just long
enough for him to remark:
I really do not see that such childish frivolity would benefit us in any way. And
then he returned them to the article he was reading.
I was rather hurt. I had not yet known Sherlock Holmes so long that I was completely
immune to his sometimes rather cold manner.
Oh come now Holmes, why ever not? It is Christmas!
I do not see why that should particularly merit the need for a game. he retorted,
this time without even lifting his eyes from the page.
I fell back into a morose silence. Although I was by this time quite accustomed to
Holmes often tempestuous moods it still irked me somewhat that he had not even
attempted to be a little more congenial, especially in view of the time of year. However,
as I looked about the room I wondered at how either of us even knew what time of year it
was; for, as a result of my being wholly engaged in my work of late, our housekeeper
having left to spend Christmas with her relations, and the familiar lethargy which had
once again descended upon Holmes, there was not a sign of the season to be seen.
Furthermore, because my friend had spent the past week lying prostrate upon the sofa
buried among old news-sheets and books, the sitting-room had been allowed to reach an
even more deplorable state of untidiness than was usual. Indeed, as I looked at the
mantelpiece I noticed a large pile of letters and telegrams which lay neglected at one end.
Holmes, I sighed, have you even glanced at these?
I received no reply. He was still hunched over his newspaper, gazing at it intently whilst
the light of the fire threw dark shadows across his brooding features.
Holmes! I repeated.
What is it Watson? he said irritably.
I was asking whether you had even glanced at this tottering pile of correspondence.
Of course I have, he snapped, And a glance was all that was required to show that
they are decidedly lacking in interest. Lacking in interest most probably meant that
they offered no distraction from his boredom in the shape of a promising problem. I
picked up the first of the pile. It was signed Mrs Helen Armitage and wished Holmes
and I the fullest compliments of the season.








Why Holmes, there is one here from Miss Stoner! I exclaimed, referring to the client
who drew our attention to the case which I have named in these little accounts of mine as
that of The Speckled Band.
If you observe the signature Watson, he muttered, She no longer goes by that
designation or surname.
Yes said I with almost, I fancy, a slight note of sadness in my voice, for I had
quite admired the lady.
It was accompanied, as I recall, by a gift. he continued.
Really? I said, brightening.
I think, he replied curtly, it was intended for me. It is in that box beside the letters.
I opened the box to find a pocket watch and chain, similar in style and shape to my own
family heirloom. It was accompanied by a small card, upon which was written the
touching inscription: Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes. A thank you for saving my life and
my happiness.
Holmes! I cried in an attitude of mock disapproval, You should not have opened
this, it is not yet Christmas morning!
Pah! came the dismissal from the other side of the fire, Dont be so sentimental
Watson.
I smiled and said: Well as long as youve already opened it you should at least leave it
out of the box. It is really quite handsome. And with that I put it down next to the
jack-knife which skewered yet more correspondence to the mantelpiece.
I took my own seat by the fire and looked across at Holmes who was still
scanning the newsprint intensely, probably hoping for some more interesting item to
catch his eye. However, his search would most likely be in vain. Londons criminal
population, unlike Holmes it seemed, was not completely immune to the sentiments of
the season and a feeling of Good will to all men appeared to be prevailing. I was in no
doubt that this was the cause of my friends irritable mood. Sure enough, after having
perused every inch of the newspaper possible, he tossed it aside with something close to a
growl and sat hunched up in his chair scowling into the fire. We remained that way for
some time.
Finally, I glanced tiredly at my watch and was on the point of seriously
considering turning in early, such was the monotony of the silence, when Holmes sat up
suddenly. I looked curiously in his direction and saw to my surprise that a faint smile was
beginning to play across his thin lips.
Yes Watson, he said, How about a game?
I was startled, to say the least, at this sudden change of heart. I was, however, so eager for
entertainment that I did not dwell upon it.
Excellent. I replied happily, What do you suggest?
Aha! he exclaimed with a smile that was almost fiendish, Perhaps a little
something of my own invention.
You arouse my curiosity. I said, leaning forward in my chair, Pray, what does your
game entail?
Come Watson, he said, standing, and I will show you.
He then took me abruptly by the arm and fairly pushed me from the room. This only








served to arouse my curiosity all the more and as I was manhandled onto the landing I
turned to Holmes with the intention of questioning him further. The words never passed
my lips however, for no sooner had I turned to face him than Holmes, to my utter
astonishment, leapt back into the sitting-room and promptly slammed the door closed
behind me.
What the deuce are you doing? I laughed, looking inquisitively at the door,
Holmes?
I received no reply.
I had had enough experience of Sherlock Holmes eccentricities however, to not
be unduly worried by this singular occurrence. I listened intently for any sound from the
sitting-room which might give me a clue as to his movements. Indeed, there was soon a
great deal for me to listen to. It sounded as if he was engaged in rearranging the entire
furniture of the room. After a while the thudding and scraping sounds abated and all was
silent. On that draughty first-floor landing, a longing for the sitting-room fire soon came
upon me and I began to pace up and down in an effort to keep warm. I was beginning to
lose my patience, when the door to the sitting-room was suddenly flung open. I stopped
abruptly in front of it.
Cold, Watson? came that familiar voice. Holmes stood framed in the doorway
with an amused twinkle in his eye.
Come in my dear fellow, he said with a flamboyant gesture, I do apologize for
keeping you waiting.
Upon doing so I was surprised to find that his exertions appeared to have few
results as everything was exactly as it had been when I had left the room. As I noted this
a vague idea of the form which Holmes game might take began to take shape in my
mind.
Yes Watson, said he, A treasure hunt.
I must have shown some surprise at his timely perception of my train of thought because
he then proceeded to laugh and say:
It was quite obvious that you would hear my movements from your position on the
landing. We have lived together in this humble abode for quite some little time now and
you know as well as I do that the thickness of the walls leaves much to be desired. You
arrived, quite correctly, at the conclusion that I was upsetting the furniture. On
re-entering the room and seeing that I had replaced it, you would not fail to ask yourself
what activity could possibly involve such preparation.
Now I too was laughing, though more from amazement than amusement.
And what, pray, am I hunting for? I asked.
I shall merely say that I have hidden something of yours within this room. he replied,
the light of suppressed excitement showing in his eyes. I once again began to chuckle.
Well there are a great many things of mine in this room. I said in jest, How am I to
know which one of them is hidden?
This remark of mine appeared to amuse him greatly, and he answered this time with an
even broader smile.
Precisely, my dear Watson! he cried, rubbing his hands together with glee, Your
first task is to identify which of your possessions is missing.








This seems much more complicated than the treasure hunts I used to go on as a
child. I said.
As I have already told you, Holmes answered, settling himself happily in his chair to
observe my movements, I have no time for childish frivolity.

____________________


The Hunt

A preliminary glance about the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Indeed, if I
hadnt distinctly heard the racket which Holmes had made upsetting the furniture I should
never have believed that he had moved a single item. Everything was in its proper place,
and I was at a loss as to which of my possessions could possibly be missing.
Holmes, this is absurd! I cried, turning to face him.
Giving up already Watson? he chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
I sighed and looked about me once more. Which of my possessions had Holmes chosen
to hide? There was, I reflected, not as much to choose from as may have first appeared.
My days serving in India and Afghanistan had engrained in me a tendency to keep
belongings to a minimum and much of what I did own I kept in my room on the floor
above. There were a few portraits of mine in the sitting-room of course, but I discounted
these at once for none had been moved, and if they had it would have been extremely
difficult for Holmes to conceal the fact. As I was coming to this conclusion I was looking
my portrait of Henry Ward Beecher which stands upon my books and I hit upon the idea
of Holmes having removed one of the volumes beneath it. The usual number seemed to
be present, but it would have been easy for him to replace one with another of his own
which looked similar to make it appear as if nothing was amiss. All he would have to do
then would be to simply hide the original, and it should have been very difficult for me to
realise that it was from there that the object had been taken. Yes, I said to myself,
thats just the sort of clever trick Holmes would employ.
I went excitedly over to the bookcase, pleased to think that I may have divined his
plans so quickly, and began to make an intense study of the titles present. Nothing
immediately leapt out at me, however. In fact, it proved even more difficult than I had
anticipated as I came upon a few which I had not given a thought to for such a long time
that, as so often happens with those objects that one simply takes for granted, I had at
first no recollection of where they had come from, and so naturally viewed them with
suspicion! My ensuing inward confusion threw me at first and I was almost seriously
considering the possibility that Holmes had in fact swapped several of my books just to
spite me when I heard my tormentor give a low chuckle.
My dear Watson, remarked Holmes, surely you do not think I could be so cruel.
For one wild moment I believed that he was once again indulging in that unsettling habit
of his whereby he would divine my innermost thoughts, and I whirled around in
astonishment. However, he merely continued:
You are considering the possibility that I have removed one of your books and








replaced it with something similar to throw you off the scent, correct? But do you not
think that that would have been just a little harsh on my part? To force you to trawl over
every one of those spines so minutely. He now began to laugh heartily. Why, Ive
never seen you scrutinise that bookshelf so carefully. I shouldnt be surprised if you
discovered some volume you never even knew you had in your possession!
I coloured slightly at this. It was one of Holmes more mystical characteristics that never
failed to cause me private discomfort. Even when he hadnt the slightest intention of
delving into my thoughts some heightened instinct within him seemed to be aware of
them, and he would voice them without ever having been conscious of the true import of
what he had said.
No, no Watson, he said soothingly, I should not be so troublesome to you. It is only
a game, after all
It was precisely because it was so troublesome that I was convinced you had devised
it! I exclaimed exasperatedly.
There is some logic there, I suppose. he chortled. I must congratulate you. No
Watson, you are yet again demonstrating that unfailing characteristic of yours of going
about things completely the wrong way around. You take what should be your last resort
as your first and thus cause yourself no end of unnecessary difficulty.
What, then, is your suggestion?
Never discount the obvious my dear fellow. Remember, it can sometimes be so
obvious that we are blind to it.
Holmes! I cried, You are speaking in paradoxes!
Nonsense. It makes perfect sense that the logical thinker must be able to see the wood
in spite of the trees, does it not? Anyhow, you will agree with me that when considering
which item of yours to conceal, my first thought would not be of your library. I would
settle upon something more singular.
I suppose that my books would not immediately spring to mind. I said, thinking
aloud.
Exactly Watson! he said encouragingly, Put yourself in my place and imagine what
you would have chosen.
I thought then of my medical bag. What object could be more readily associated
with John H. Watson M.D. than that? I wheeled round to face the table where I had
placed it when I had returned to Baker Street that evening. However, it lay there still and
I picked it up with an air of disappointment. Holmes however, seemed rather pleased.
Well done Watson! I admit that that was one of my first thoughts. Mind you, I think
that I was correct in going against the idea. A look of mock concern spread across his
features. If I had had some sudden attack of illness during the proceedings the fact that I
alone knew its whereabouts may not have been particularly helpful.
No I replied with an amused smile, as a sudden vision of myself turning the
sitting-room upside down in a wild panic while Holmes lay insensible upon the bearskin
rug passed before my eyes.
But what then? I asked.
Have heart, friend, urged Holmes, youll hit upon it sooner or later.
I folded my arms in an attitude of despair and stared fixedly at the floor. Upon








crossing my arms my hand brushed my waistcoat pocket and I felt suddenly that
something was amiss. I fumbled frantically for my watch chain and drew it quickly from
my pocket. Sure enough, the chain was still there but the watch itself had gone.
Bravo Watson! Holmes shouted, laughing and clapping his hands together, At last!
Though I fancy it was more luck than pure deductive reasoning that lead you to it.
How on earth did you get it? I ejaculated.
You may have noted that my manner in removing you from the room was somewhat
rough, he remarked with a revealing grin, In order to bring certain criminals to justice
one must first deduce the nature of their methods and I, like all scientists, find that the
best proof of the validity of a method is being able to recreate it to the same effect. Ones
evidence cannot, then, be questioned. I am afraid that I know many a dodge.
By Jove! I gasped, staring disbelievingly at the empty watch chain that dangled
before my eyes.