The Blue Carbuncle and
Sherlock's Real Last Name

For sure there is a Santa Claus, a Sherlock Hotmes and elves,

And in this delightful fantasy -- well, read it for yourselves.

Mysteries abound in the Yuletide season. Not among the least of these has long been "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle," and we do not mean the theft and recovery of the Countess of Morcar's gem. The true mystery of that sensational tale is to be found in its opening line: "I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wisliing him the compliments of the season."

Now anyone with an ounce of sensitivity has to wonder about those words from Dr. Watson's pen. Watson and his wife Mary were, if we are to go by the facts in STUD and SIGN, without kith or kin in England. Both were warm and friendly folk-so why-didn't they invite their good friend and known loner Sherlock Holmes over for Christmas? And if he excused himself, why wait until two days later to wander over and wish him a happy holiday?

A curious set of events, that. The two-day gap also figures in another less obvious curiosity in BLUE. When Watson called Holmes, he found him apparently having just examined Henry Baker's hat. Not much later, Holmes sends an ad to the papers in an attempt to find Baker. This series of events is all well and good, but why has Holmes waited so long to act upon either matter when he received the hat and goose on Christmas morning, two days before?

Now we have two little mysteries. Both of them could easily be explained if Holmes was busy on Christmas and shortly thereafter. In fact, although Holmes said of Peterson, "He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning," it is entirely possible that Holmes was not at home at that time. Mrs. Hudson could easily have accepted the items for him in his absence. Assuming that, we find that our two earlier mysteries are solved -- Holmes wasn't home on Christmas. But now a new mystery appears:Where was he?

With his own family, perhaps? Outside of brother Mycroft -- dear old big, fat Mycroft -- we know very little of the Holmes clan. Sherlock makes a vague allusion to "country squires" and a connection between his grandmother and Vernet, but nothing more. Lacking evidence from that quarter, suppose we examine it from a genetic perspective and narrow down the kind of people Sherlock and Mycroft were descended from. From their example, we know their forbears must have been: 1. Extremely observant. 2. Extremely long-lived (both men are now in their 130's). 3. Fluent in almost every conceivable language. Sherlock never seems to encounter any language he does not know a little of-he even works on the docks among the Chinese in DYIN. 4. Good people, with a sense of duty to humanity. 5. Probably mythic. Studies have been made on such things as insanity and heredity, and alcoholism and heredity, but none yet on mythicness and heredity. One would think a link exists.

So where does this leave us? One strong possibility for Sherlock's and Mycroft's true father comes immediately to mind. About whom but the father of Sherlock Holmes could someone say: "He sees you when you're sleeping; he knows when you're awake; he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake!"

Yes, sometime in the 1840's, Santa Claus did come to town. And this time he wasn't bringing toys. After centuries of life among the elves, jolly old St. Nick was long overdue for a mate. Whether she was the first Mrs. Claus, or merely another in a Watson-like line of wives, we cannot be sure. But perhaps it was this trait of Watson's, so like Holmes's father, that helped spark the two mens' friendship.

Naturally, with so famous a father, Sherlock and Mycroft would have wanted to tone down their connection as they entered the world themselves. In hiding their true last name, the two still wanted to pay some respect to the old man, so it would seem they chose his favorite syllable and turned it into a pseudonym: Ho-ho-Holmes. And even after the two men were out in the world with careers of their own, they could still come home at least once a year to the North Pole and help with the family business during the busy season.

Thus finishes our last mystery of BLUE, and Holmes's absence is explained. It's no wonder Watson was wishing him a mild "compliments of the season." What can you say to a man who has just had the most Christmassy Christmas of all? Or perhaps Watson was merely peeved at the lump of coal in his stocking that year.

Now, don’t go telling us that there’s no Santa Claus. You’ve never seen his obituary in the London Times, either, have you? Case closed.

(Printed in Plugs & Dottles, January 1986)