John Watson At My Shoulder

Well he's here again, just as I remember him thirty-odd years ago; above and behind my left shoulder, murmuring in my ear, quite intrusively at times … when I wrote on the title page 'A Memoir of John H. Watson M.D., edited by Rohase Piercy', I wasn't entirely kidding! This time he's overseeing the revision of My Dearest Holmes for the upcoming Thirtieth Anniversary Edition (coming this April – keep your eyes peeled for the Giveaway!) He makes an approving comment here, a suggested improvement there: 'Yes, that's exactly what I said; exactly how I felt!' 'You know, my dear, in those days that word was hardly common parlance.' 'Actually, when talking between ourselves my wife and I would refer to our maid by her Christian name …'

Yes, I am editing as I go along, always careful to leave the storyline completely intact, and hopefully continuing to stay true to Conan Doyle's writing style. Some little bumps in need of ironing out were obvious immediately: Would Holmes (in disguise as Melmond) really run the risk of betraying his identity to Maurice Kirkpatrick by accusing him so blatantly of 'climbing a wall'? Surely his observations would have been more subtle? Would Watson, arriving at the Hotel des Deux Mondes in Paris, really have had 'a light supper' brought up to his room without having ordered one? etc …
Others were brought to my attention not by Watson but by Charlie Raven, always a stickler for accuracy. I now know the difference between a daguerreotype (the most common commercial photographic process up until the late 1850s) and an albumen print (popular in mainstream photography from 1855 to the turn of the century); that 19th century telegrams were handwritten, not printed out, and therefore did not contain 'stops'; and that 'Regent Circus', though planned, was never actually built.

Charlie also pointed out that Watson drinks much more than is good for him even by nineteenth century standards (kindly adding that this is his way of coping with his unrequited love for Holmes and the self-loathing engendered by his various 'indiscretions'); and that Holmes pinches the good Doctor's arm so often that he must surely have ended up black and blue! Holmes does pinch Watson quite frequently in the original stories, but obviously these cover a number of years rather than the forty-eight hours during which the events of 'A Discreet Investigation' take place; Charlie's suggestion that I vary the parts of Watson's anatomy that get singled out for such attention was reluctantly rejected, but I have kept in the pinching because it does, as a reviewer once gleefully pointed out, 'drive him wild' – a fact that Watson himself confirms, let me tell you.

Anyway, we're making good progress. Charlie has written a Foreword that's both entertaining and informative, and I have included, at the back, the full version of my essay 'Sherlock Holmes – a Decadent Detective?' published in the Baker Street Journal a couple of years ago. There'll be a brand new cover, of course – at the moment a copy of The Strand, a Persian slipper, a fob watch and a sheet of Victorian notepaper are all involved … we'll keep experimenting until we get Watson's unreserved approval.

Oh, and you'll be pleased to know that in this edition he actually gets to address his beloved, just once, with the title phrase. Watch this space!