Romancing the Holmes

Relationships in Sherlockian canon, or: They lived happily (?) ever after

Holmesian character relationships. Specifically, post-murder-case relationships. I first began musing about this idea after one of my yearly Halloween readings of Hound—I wondered not only what happened to Beryl Garcia, but whether there’d be any chance that her and Henry Baskerville would or could ever get together once her awful husband is out of the picture. I put the question up in Facebook group The Strangers’ Room (it’s private, so no link) to robust discussion, and from there it made me think of other potential couples whose relationships might begin after the central murder of the story was done with and concluded.

I hope that my musings about these relationships merely show how compelling Conan Doyle’s characters are, not that I’m being flippant about a person’s reaction to death, or grieving process. Nor am I trying to do what so many Victorian authors did, which is force everyone into a heteronormative coupling-off compartment. It’s just theoretical musings on plot and characterization that have been sticking with me as I read and reread these stories…

Speaking of, I highly recommend reading the original stories I’m referring to before going through my musings below, as I will be discussing them in nerdy exhaustive detail, without summary or explanation. Here, I explore the possibilities of what might happen next without really going through what happens in the stories themselves, beyond brief mentions. Plus, I guess spoilers? 

Anyway, if this sounds interesting, follow me:

Beryl Garcia & Henry Baskerville 

Story: Hound of the Baskervilles 

Was she only concerned for Sir Henry’s safety?

(Some of the below text is mine from the convo I started in the Stranger’s Room, as written there. After that online convo, renowned Sherlockian podcast Trifles discussed it a bit further in Episode 265, Season 6.)

It always struck me as odd that Sir Henry Baskerville and Beryl Garcia never ended up together after all was over and done. It seems to me that they’d be a great couple, and could do a lot of healing together after her awful murderer husband was gone. Or is there something about Victorian social rules that I’m missing? 

Or was the idea that she never actually fancied Sir Henry? I get the feeling she really did love him, it’s just that she was married to a dominating narcissistic abuser. Once he’s gone, and once she and Sir Henry have recovered a bit, what’s stopping them from getting together?

I’m also thinking about Holmes’ recounting of his interviews with Beryl after the fact. She seemed fully against Stapleton by the end (foreshadowed by her refusal to mess with Sir Charles, and we also hear of her reaction later to the whole Laura Lyons sitch). Holmes describes it as a full-on fight, where she confronts her husband, accuses him of his crimes, and that’s why he has to silence her up in the attic. I guess it just made me think she could continue that turnaround and make good on the other side of it. But yeah, we don’t really hear about her feelings for Sir Henry, from her own lips, as Holmes would say. Maybe I’m just speaking from personal experience of a dominating ex-husband: I can vividly imagine that, as much as she was forced into compliance, she never wanted to be a part of any of it. But how could Sir Henry count on that? He nearly died by dog because of her complicity, whether or not it was fully voluntary, and she did lie to him, regardless.

The consensus of the Strangers’ Room thread participants on this issue is basically that Sir Henry would never be able to trust Beryl after all that’s happened. Even though she may or may not have known all of what was going on, she still lied to Sir Henry and kept information from him. Another major problem with these two (as said above) is that we never get her real thoughts and feelings from her directly, only as interpreted and recounted by men—this story is not told by an omniscient or neutral narrator, but by Dr. Watson, after all. It’s all from his perspective. As such, we don’t ever really get, from her, the full story of what she went through. Makes me wonder if maybe she told Holmes more than he later recounted to Watson? It’s fun to consider.

Maud Bellamy & Ian Murdoch

Story: “The Lion’s Mane”

This is kind of distantly related to my questions about Hound, but a bit different. The main oddity about these two is that Murdoch had been courting Miss Bellamy, but had given her up more than a year ago, according to the timing that Holmes recalls. She tells the investigating men that she’d thought Murdoch was a serious contender as her suitor but that he’d stopped his suit once he understood that McPherson was the man she’d chosen. Translated into current social language: she and Murdoch used to date too, until she chose monogamy with McPherson. Then he backed off, fully voluntarily.

But! After this, Murdoch acted as the couple’s go-between as far as secret meetings, passing messages, etc. He claims he only wanted her happiness, and his actions all seem to align with this as his true feelings—he says he gave up his suit as soon as he understood her feelings for his friend. This means he does surely still love her, he’s just not actively pursuing her as his girlfriend at the time of McPherson’s death, out of respect for him and love for her. 

Maudie’s all like: back off bro and let me deal with this.

So my question is: did she dig Murdoch too, before she chose McPherson over him? Would they stay friends after his death? He died by jellyfish; it’s not like Murdoch had anything to do with his death—on the contrary, they were said to be good friends. And it’s doubtful that Murdoch would have volunteered to be their safety net and go-between if he wasn’t really a friend. (Do we need to talk about dog abuse? Maybe.) Once again, though, we have speculation about what a woman feels only as interpreted by the men narrating the story: in this rare case, Holmes himself. Though Maud is quite a bit more outspoken than Beryl was—she defies her domineering male family members outright and out loud. Problem is, it’s Victorian England and there’s only so much she can do. Her engagement to McPherson still had to be kept secret in order to keep his inheritance intact. What else had to be kept so? 

Bottom line: would Maudie and Ian stay tight after the events of this story? If so, would they start dating again, eventually, after they both have a period of grieving for a person they both loved? Which is another thing I wanted to mention here, too—Did Murdoch also love McPherson? The thing he says to the investigators as he’s found at her house is pretty telling: “I have lost today the only person who made The Gables habitable.” He hasn’t lost Maud—who is he talking about?

The Boscombe Valley kids

Story: “The Boscombe Valley Mystery”

I’m less worried about these two getting together in and of itself than I am about Watson having written up a detailed account of the story of the murder, after both their fathers are dead, after Holmes promised Mr. Turner that he’d NEVER EXPOSE HIS PAST STORY EVER, if young McCarthy could be gotten off without it. Can we assume the story is public now that Watson has published it? How will this affect either kid? Can Alice ever forgive her father, her beau’s father, or even her beau himself? How would she feel if suddenly she’s informed that all these men in her life, two of whom she loves dearly, have been lying to her and keeping vital information from her all this time? 

These cute kids are from the Grenada series’ version.

There might also be something about Victorian propriety re: her beau having had a secret barmaid wife (who in turn had a secret Bermuda dockyard husband). This is all pretty nasty stuff, let alone the fact that her father used to be a murderous brigand as a young man. I dunno, maybe all this would appeal to her romantic side—it’s all straight out of a Boy’s Own Adventure novel, or a girl’s sentimental romance. Maybe all this colorful and dastardly past would make her more keen. But I feel like it would definitely affect her ability to trust, which might be a deal-breaker for her childhood friend-cum-fiancé. 

Lady Frances Carfax & The Hon. Phillip Green

Story: “The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax”

Of all the examples I’m giving here, this must be the most egregious example of a woman’s feelings only being known from a dude’s interpretation of them, which may or (in this case definitely) may not be true. Holmes gives Lady Carfax over to Phillip Green the moment it’s discerned she’s alive (she’s not even conscious yet, it doesn’t look like), all based on Green’s confession of his love for her, and his devoted stalking observations in helping Holmes’ investigations into Holy Peters and his ferret-eyed wife, who have her captive. We never get to meet the Lady whatsoever, all we get is first Watson, then Green’s attempts at stalking following her. To save her, of course.

This illustration is a lot sexier than the scene as described in the book, which is even more unsettling.

In fact, we hear from her maid that good ol’ Phil was seen arguing with Lady Frances and even grabbing her wrist, violently. Even he admits that she was resistant to his advances, but then avers that he knows she loves him anyway. Really? Really, Phil? You *know* she loves you anyway? What about her rejecting you over and over, and running away from you all across Europe, made you think that? Because she never married anyone else? Please. 

I continue to be worried about Lady Frances Carfax’s fate. Holmes leaves her, barely alive, still unconscious, in the hands of “un sauvage” who himself admits to being out of control of his emotions and actions on account of his “love” for her. It’s classic dude-dating nonsense: she said no but she means yes. And all the gentlemen that hover around to save her are sure that the Honorable Phillip Green is just that. I’m not so sure. Poor Lady Frances Carfax. “A stray chicken in a world of foxes,” indeed.

Ivy Douglas & Cecil Barker 

Story: The Valley of Fear

Hear me out here: I know that putting these two together as anything more than friends was an unfair assumption that all the investigating men fell into when figuring out what happened to Mr. Douglas. It was unfounded and unfair, even if it was obvious that both Mrs. Douglas and Mr. Barker were lying about the murder. Barker’s outrage at the men’s questioning Mrs. Douglas’ honor and fidelity was fully sincere, not a matter of The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks. Sort of like in “Lion’s Mane,” they were both good friends or romantic partners of the victim as well as friends with each other through their mutual relationship with him. (Though technically in this story it turns out he wasn’t the victim. But I digress.)

So, similarly, I wonder if Ivy and Cecil will stay buddies after Douglas’ death, if they can comfort each other in their shared grief. And whether that friendship might change in time into something not so platonic. With these two, I feel like it would take a good deal of time, and, unlike Maud and Ian, they weren’t in a romantic relationship before and broke it off, they were always just good friends. And unlike Beryl and Sir Henry, there’s not any indication that they had any feelings for each other other than friendship. 

Barker, you the man.

I dunno, I was thinking about these two a lot because Valley of Fear is one of those that I revisit a lot as comforting bedtime reading—I kinda hope that these two don’t become romantic partners, but do stay good friends. That just sits better with me, know what I mean? I get sick of the whole forced heterosexual coupling-off of cool characters, and always like it when a really deep and profound relationship can be that, without sex being required as the only way to be deep with someone. Like what TV police procedural Elementary did. But that’s a whole ‘nother article. Actually, I should get on that, shouldn’t I. What do you all think, a fresh article on heteronormativity in detective fiction? And maybe queerness in noir? Ooo, that could be a lot of fun to research. Okay cool, stay tuned…

Conclusion

There were surely some post-murder couples that I missed, and I might revisit this series. I’d like to do a not-necessarily-couple version of this same idea, like: what ever happened to Violet de Merville from “The Illustrious Client,” or Sir Robert from “The Noble Bachelor?” Did the St. Clair couple from “Man with the Twisted Lip” live happily ever after, and was Holmes Mrs. St. Clair’s lover for a time (this is a pet theory I have and I would love to explore it)? What was the untimely demise of Helen Stoner that we hear about as a passing comment that allows Watson to tell the tale of “The Speckled Band?” If Violet Smith and her new husband took care of Carruthers’ daughter during his few years of incarceration, was he ever allowed to have her back, and if so, was Violet in her life at all after that? What ever happened to poor thumbless engineer, Mr. Hatherley? Was he ever able to manage to make a living?

What questions like this are on your mind? Do let me know in the comments, and let me know your thoughts on my casual analyses above, too.