Russell's Young Man

Part 7: A Lesson in Detection

by Brains and Spirit

I met Holmes at the gate, and smiled when I saw the outline of the chess set in his coat pocket. Perhaps Holmes, too, wanted a day spent on our old familiar ground; he, my friend and mentor, me his apprentice. We strode the Downs in companionable silence; letting the salt air fill our lungs and the sun warm our backs and faces. Finally we came to one of our favourite stopping places, a small grassy hillock slightly up from the cliffs overlooking the channel. I flopped down in luxurious abandon, and Holmes folded himself more slowly, sitting with one leg out and one knee bent up beside him.

Instead of taking out the chess set, though, he sat in silence and looked at me for a long moment. Then he reached out his hand and gave one of my plaits a gentle tug. tug. "It won't work, Russ," he said. "You can't go back". Damn the man! I thought, stricken. Couldn't he be obtuse for once?

"I must admit that I sometimes forget, but braiding your hair will not make you fifteen again. You are a grown woman now, with all that entails. Do you recall that you and I once sat here and discussed what makes people kill?"

"Yes. And you became very angry with me, as I recall."

"I shouldn't have, which is why I apologised, as you may also recall. I forgot how young you were. Why your age continually eludes me, Russell, I cannot think." He paused and looked out to the channel, then continued, not meeting my gaze, with the air of a man steeling himself for a difficult task. "Russ, I brought you here because I realise that there's a conversation you and I need to have, out of anyone's earshot, that we ought to have had somewhat earlier in our association. I find-much to my chagrin- that I need to apologise to you once again, Russell."

I felt a twinge of apprehension and annoyance. Surely the impossible man wasn't going to apologise for comforting me last night. He'd done nothing wrong, I didn't want to discuss it, and... it had been rather lovely. Of course it was just a temporary aberration. Even so, given the postwar shortage of men and my present feelings on the subject it was going to be a long time before a man held me in his arms again. I didn't want my memory of it spoilt by discomfiture on either of our parts.

"Apologise, Holmes?" I said." For what?"

"Because I see in retrospect that I had a certain duty to you as your teacher and friend that I signally failed to perform, and that my failure to do so may have contributed to the unfortunate situation you found yourself in last night. I know your Aunt didn't make much of an effort, and there was the War of course, but I suppose that Mrs. Hudson, or Watson, or I, should have encouraged you to come out, to go to parties, or dances"-he threw up his hands- "or somewhere you could get acquainted with young men and make your choice among them. Perhaps I was wrong in keeping your company to myself, I should have..."

Ah, that was it. Seeing Holmes at a loss was not without its entertainment value, but I thought both his self-blame and chivalry a bit misguided. After all, this was the twentieth century, and more than time to break up the party.

"Holmes," I said, " Do you remember that trip we took to Paris last year before Michaelmas term?"

"Yes-quite well, it was most diverting. That evening on the rive gauche comes to mind. I am still astounded to think that you would know all the words to that particular song."

I shot him a quelling look. "My Aunt, as you remember, was quite violently opposed to our going off together without a chaperone. She made herself rather loudly unpleasant on the subject, at some length. Nevertheless, we went, did we not?"

"That we did."

"Now do you seriously believe that if I had wanted to come out at our local Hunt Ball, which darling Auntie would no doubt consider a most proper and ladylike activity, that I would not have done so?"

His face lightened, to my relief, and he raised his left hand as a fencer does when acknowledging a hit. "Touché, Russell. Of course you would have. And God help the scions of the local gentry." He grinned. He actually grinned. How that man had survived to fifty-nine years of age often amazed me.

"Holmes," I said dangerously.

"I'm not impugning your personal attractiveness, Russell. Far from it. I have only to recall the party we attended in the American Quarter of Jerusalem. I supplied you with what I considered a plain and spinsterish frock, only to find when I arrived that every unattached male under the age of thirty was swarming around you like, if you will forgive so obvious a simile, bees to honey. I am sure that you could have an equal effect on any number of young Sussex men, if you chose. Nevertheless, I do surmise that a young woman so much of the twentieth century might prove a bit daunting for our local young men still mired in the nineteenth."

I was flabbergasted. A complement of this order from Holmes was unusual; for him to speak in such favorable terms of my appearance and femininity was simply unheard of. The sun deciding to rise in the west could not have astonished me more. I took refuge in acerbity.

"What would I talk to them about, Holmes, haemoglobin? I've hardly the interests and proclivities of the typical young lady. Cricket and fox-hunting both bore me witless, and I'm sorry to say the same for gossip and small talk. It's not the sort of thing I could keep up except as a persona." I hesitated, bit my lip, and then reached over to touch his hand. "Now see here, Holmes, you hardly lured little Mary Russell from the bosom of a loving family. I walked into your life that April morning, not the other way round. No one forced me to be with you. Every time I've come through your door since then has been because I chose to. And you should know by this time that I am quite capable of choosing for myself. " I paused again, not wanting to embarrass Holmes or myself with a display of sentiment or emotion. So many things between us were understood without words. "You and I, Holmes-never a dull moment, is there?"

At that Holmes' face lit with one of his rare, unexpected, gentle smiles. "No, Russell," he said. "Never a dull one. And here we are."

I looked at him then and gathered my courage. This would be asking a lot of a Victorian gentleman, but if I was to put last night behind me I had to know.

"Holmes?"

"Yes, Russell?"

"l've something to ask you that I cannot ask anyone else, although you may think it rather indelicate."

"And what might that be?"

"What makes a man do to a woman what David did to me?"

"Is your interest general or specific?"

"Both."

Holmes lit his pipe before answering. There must have been some trick of the light as I thought for a moment that I saw the faintest flush on his cheeks. "Very well. But there's one item I need clarified before I can frame a suitable explanation. Will you be continuing to see Captain Bonham-Pryce socially?"

"No!" I answered, firmly. "That is to say, I won't flee screaming if I run into him, but I've no particular desire for his company after last night. Might be a bit awkward with Alix, though."

"Perhaps. I suggested that her father tell her that her brother suffered a mental breakdown, and he attacked you because he believed you to be someone else. Not, I am afraid, the ideal basis for continuing your friendship, but the best I could do."

"Thank you."

"Now to answer your question. I trust you remember, Russell, the three component factors necessary for the commission of a crime?"

"Motive, means and opportunity" I recited obediently.

"Precisely. I am pleased to see that your wits are still about you."

He puffed his pipe for a moment and then spoke thoughtfully. "First; motive. I have had a few cases of this kind, thankfully unrecorded by Watson, from the Ripper murders to others less sensational. It's my general finding that while such acts involve the basest behavior of mankind, the desires of the flesh are less significant to them than is generally believed. The world, after all, is full of women who are willing bestow their favours on any man who can meet their price- which need not be anything so vulgar as money. The charming Mrs. Langtry, in her prime, did a nice line in houses and jewels. No, it is the lust for power rather than the power of lust that usually motivates such a man. Some flaw in his character, some twist in his background, some terrible experience in has past, has given him the need to dominate another through physical violation."

Holmes, gesturing with his now bunt-out pipe, seemed to become more at ease as he spoke. Undeniably, this was an awkward subject for a man of his generation to discuss with a woman, even, or perhaps especially, a woman of mine. But as he warmed to the topic, we both found the chanciness of the subject matter easily subsumed by the familiar context of a lesson in the art of detection.

"Next, method: In the rarer cases where the victim is not known to the criminal the method is similar to that of any strong-arm robbery -isolation, use of superior force to achieve the desired objective, sometimes followed by murder to conceal the criminal's trail. Ah, Russell, if I am skeptical of both love and religion, it is because I abhor the atrocities that followers of Eros and Jehovah will commit in their names. However, in the majority of the cases I have handled, the criminal was known to his victim. The methods employed were a varying combination of seduction and violence, all with the same ghastly outcome."

Holmes knocked the dottle from his pipe and relit it, puffing thoughtfully for a few moments before continuing. "Society also unwittingly conspires to afford such men the most damnable degree of protection. Persons of goodwill surrounding both the victim and the perpetrator may feel that their paramount interest lies in preserving reputations and hushing the whole affair up. It seldom comes to a police matter unless woman is killed- which most are not. This leaves the man free to find another victim and repeat his crimes with impunity. I confess that I did not fully appreciate the ramifications of this until it came to your case, Russ. I will countenance no harm befalling you. Yet exposing the Captain would ruin your reputation along with his. On the other hand, how could I see the man who hurt you go unpunished, or leave him free to harm another woman-who might not be able to fight back as you so capably did? It's a fine line to walk, and I am not entirely satisfied with how I have walked it today. I believe I at least put sufficient fear into the major's mind for him to send his son to a psychiatrist and watch him carefully. One can only do one's best." He sighed and looked away.

"I actually think you did rather well, Holmes," I managed to say.

He snorted. "Having touched upon motive and method, then, we come to the question of opportunity. You know, there actually was a use for the old chaperonage rules that your generation delights in discarding. They originally served to deny these unfortunate situations the opportunity to arise. I admit that I am glad of your good left arm and your knowledge of the martial arts, Russ. Your life seems to have more potential for the rough and tumble than that of the average Oxford undergraduate."

"Thanks to you," I interrupted with a smile.

Now it was his turn for a quelling look. "But anyone, no matter how intelligent, strong or capable can be overcome by an opponent with the advantage of numbers, strength, or surprise. This has happened to me and it can happen to you. I've never known you to lack courage, Russell, but there's such a thing as foolhardiness. In this particular circumstance, I fault you only for imprudence. You assumed that if a young man is intelligent, charming, and of your own class he would automatically behave as a gentleman. And that assumption put your in harm's way. A bit more caution on your part might be helpful indeed."

"Oh that I've acquired." I answered fervently. "Without a doubt, Holmes, that I've got."

Holmes visibly relaxed. "You needn't become unduly fearful, but do take good care, Russ. For God's sake, or even to satisfy your old friend Sherlock Holmes, be careful." Then he turned to me and took my hands in his.

"My dear Russell," he said, with unwonted earnestness, "there have been times in my career when I've had to examine the bodies of women who were reckless in these matters. They were not lovely to behold. I find that I exceedingly dislike the prospect of seeing you in hospital again, and the thought of identifying you at a postmortem is... one I cannot think. The world would be a poorer place without my Russell." He swallowed, let go of my hands, and looked out to sea again, avoiding my eyes.

My own eyes seemed to be unaccountably moist. "It's kind of you to say so, Holmes, and yes, I will be careful. But for now the only risk I am prepared to assume is that of being beaten at chess."

He turned back to me and chuckled. "And that risk is becoming mine equally. Pick up the pawns, then, and let us draw for black or white."

And so I did.

Postlude - Russell

I must add one footnote to these most private memoirs. This misadventure of mine marks, to my knowledge, the only occasion when Sherlock Holmes told me a deliberate untruth. When the issue was in doubt, he minimized my virginity as a condition unremarkable for its presence or absence. However, somewhat less than a year after the incident I now recount, Holmes and I married. During those events which consummate such a union, he of course discovered for himself that I came to him virgo intacta. I can count on the fingers of one hand the occasions in our years together when I saw tears in Holmes' eyes. That night was one of them. But that is another story.