This ironic resemblance to Robert Goodman is so striking as to be susp unavoidable, but surely bears no significance apart from stirring up the recent conflict between us. I have no intention of removing the document related to Goodman from the memoirs I am sending to my American agent.
In any event, recent newspaper articles suggest that the government are already moving forward with the requisite public revelations.
If you receive news of Holmes, I would appreciate it if you would pass it on to me.
Yours,
MRH
Mary Russell Holmes
The Cracker’s scarpered, so quick he all but left his shoes behind.
I’m working to track back a rumour putting Mr Holmes in a shiny black car Friday tea-time crossing Westminster Bridge. Funnly enough, I’d just been working a case involving a lost kiddie near the same bridge—calling to mind the Goodman affair for about the third time in three days. If I was your husband, I’d be hunting for hidden meaning, but me? I’d say it’s coincidence. Just like coming across this postcard in the wife’s desk was a coincidence.
I’ll let you know if anything comes of the black-car rumour, so far it’s just a third-hand mention of a resemblance.
Bill
7th
Just to let you know, Billy, I’ve just posted a somewhat incendiary letter to the man currently heading Mycroft’s organisation. (I was tempted to pile on the alphabet soup of my degrees and honours, but in the end chose dignity over delivering a kick to the poor fellow’s pride. That his father was a barrow-boy may have been one of the reasons Mycroft picked him from the crowd.) And as fate would have it, my letter too brought to mind l’ffaire Goodman. To say nothing of this stash of old postal cards, which for some reason are dominated by places from that case.
For a drop of insurance, I wanted to mention to you that I had riled the poor fellow, so that if I disappear from view along with Holmes, you should not only know where to look, but you would know to watch your back.
R.
8 May 1992
HM Treasury
Whitehall
Dear Mrs Holmes,
The ‘recent conflict between us,’ which you would present as a mild disagreement between individuals, has on the contrary developed into a major political consideration to the new government. As you no doubt saw in yesterday’s Times, the Prime Minister has been forced to address those ‘requisite public revelations’ at a time that will have severe repercussions. My own recommendation would have been to arrest the two of you, but Mr Major and XXXXX do not agree. Personally, I’d have thought your husband would care something for the life’s work of his own brother, but clearly his wife’s memoirs take precedence over matters of national security such as the history of certain XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.
M.
M.
Treasury building
SW1
8 May ’92
M—I have always believed in the freedom of certain kinds of information. Official protestations of embarrassment do not sway me, and have never swayed my husband. Threats even less. The Goodman manuscript goes to Ms King.
Perhaps you thought that your outpouring of bluster might distract me from noticing that you had failed to answer my question.
I repeat: Do you know where Holmes is?
Mary Russell Holmes
From the Times of London announcements column, 9 May 1992:
LADY BEEKEEPER Searching
for her partner? She might try the
home of lost causes.
Billy—you saw Holmes’ Times notice this am? Off to Oxford in haste tho’ (thanks to the Americans) won’t be at my own house. You could try St Hilda’s—one of the young dons is Professor Ledger’s great niece. Great-great? Or St Michael at the North Gate.
R.
Miss R—tried to reach you by phone but no answer at the flat and that ladies’ hotel hadn’t seen you. I’ve rung to the college, but in case you get one of these notes that I’m going to drop about the city, ring me immediately and I’ll take you up to Oxford myself—I have a flash new motor that’ll make you green with envy, we’ll be there in no time. It may be a matter of grannies and eggs, but it didn’t sound to me like you were taking into account that the Times advert may be a ruse, and you could be in danger.
Wm
MARY RUSSELL
CARE OF ST HILDAS COLLEGE OXFORD
RUSSELL I AM AT THE OXFORD DIGS OF THE GREAT NEPHEW OF OUR MONACLED [sic] FRIEND STOP SEEMS I HAVE HAD TO PULL OUT VARIOUS STOPS TO CONVINCE HER MAJESTYS WATCHDOGS NOT TO PUT MY WIFE IN THE TOWER FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE EMPIRE STOP YOU ARE EXPECTED FOR TEA STOP UNFORTUNATELY THE SAME COOK REIGNS THUS BRING SCONES FROM COVERED MARKET OR RISK ANOTHER BROKEN TOOTH STOP HOLMES
10th morning–The Sunday bells in
Oxford, like no others!
Dear Billy, thank you for your concern but the advert was in fact from Holmes, whom I have (finally!) retrieved from the household of a titled mutual friend (whose name I shall not commit to paper) who happened (coincidences do occur!) to be in Kew as Holmes passed across towards the taxi rank. They got into conversation & Holmes asked him about the political repercussions of my memoirs. And as men do, they decided to pursue their conversation over various libations, in London and then in Oxford. We are currently engaged in vigorous discussion concerning their proposed (slightly farcical and marginally offensive) solution to the situation, but I wanted you to rest easy and know that all is well, that the solution requires merely a trip to #10 to soothe ruffled feathers, and that we have seen no signs of the Americans.
Russell
WILLIAM MUDD INVESTIGATIONS
Dear Mrs Hudson,
Yes, I have heard from Mrs Holmes to say that they are in Oxford for a few days with a friend. I can’t think why she didn’t write to you, perhaps she did and the boy lost it again. But if I were you I wouldn’t object to them not being in Sussex, since her reference to “vigorous discussion” between the two of them has overtones of rug-scorching, paint-blistering temper on both sides. You’d think that at their age, they’d have calmed down a bit.
If I hear further, I’ll let you know.
Yrs, Wm Mudd
Clipping from the Times of London, May 7 1992:
MI6 chief named as secrecy is lifted
BY MICHAEL EVANS, DEFENCE CORRESPONDENT
MI6, Britain’s secret intelligence service, is to be put on a statutory footing for the first time, as part of the prime minister’s plan to be more open about an organisation whose existence has not been officially acknowledged.
Underlining the new mood of openness, John Major referred to Sir Colin McColl as the present head of MI6. He has never been named officially. Earlier this year, the Home Office named Stella Rimington as the new head of MI5, the domestic security service.
The naming of the heads of MI5 and MI6 brings Britain into line with other countries including Russia, which have not been so coy about their intelligence chiefs.
Robert Gates, the American CIA director, appears before Congress and on television. Russia’s two intelligence chiefs were named on their appointment.
Official recognition of MI6, to be enshrined in legislation later this year, follows the implementation of the Security Service Act 1989, which put MI5 on a statutory basis for the first time. Under the act, Lord Justice Stuart-Smith was appointed an independent watchdog of MI5, responsible for monitoring warrants issued to the security service for entering homes or business premises.
The proposed law covering MI6 is expected to include a similar watchdog arrangement. However, as Mr Major made clear yesterday, details of MI6 operations will remain secret. MI6 officers are based in British embassies abroad and gather intelligence for the government’s foreign, defence, security and economic policies.
Sir Colin McColl, who took over as head of MI6, or “C”, from Sir Christopher Curwen in 1989, is to retire at 60 in September.
Oleg Gordievsky, above, the former KGB head of political intel
ligence in London, yesterday cast off his usual disguise and appeared on television without his beard for the first time. Mr Gordievsky, who became a British agent, paid tribute to Sir Colin. He said: “He is not just nice, he is a brilliant man, extremely intelligent and a distinguished civil servant. The KGB has a very high opinion of him.”
19 May 1992
Dear Ms King,
I enclose the attached with the trunk of my memoirs, that you might understand something of its history. The Goodman case shook the Intelligence community 68 years ago. As these varied correspondences show, its effects still reverberate through the corridors of power. Thus, I would strongly urge upon you the solution offered by the Oxford friend referred to in the communications: that this volume be published as fiction. Personally (although our current Prime Minister would disagree) I suspect any readers of my memoirs will be too intelligent to fall for the ruse.
It rankles, to imagine my autobiography being published as mere entertainment, however I agree that in this one case, the world may not be ready for the truth about Mycroft’s organisation. And if I may make a further suggestion? A whimsical title might be only appropriate. Something along the lines of, The Green Man, perhaps?
Yours,
MRH
Interview III
A Twitter Interview
The following “Twinterview” originally appeared as the afterward to A Study in Sherlock, “stories inspired by Sherlock Holmes”, edited by Leslie S. Klinger and Laurie R. King. It forms the transcript of a 2011 conversation via Twitter between Klinger (whose Twitter address is @lklinger) and Mary Russell (@mary_russell), and is conducted within the usual limitations of 140 characters per exchange.
Klinger is the author of The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes and portions of the Annotated Beekeeper in this Companion, and has given his permission for the use of this piece. Miss Russell’s permission was less freely given.
Les Klinger: Am editing w/LRKing “stories inspired by SH” & wd love an interview w/him or you. OK 4 LRK 2 giv me yr contact info?
Mary Russell: No, my literary agent Ms King does not have permission to give you my private contact information.
Klinger: But wouldn’t u prefer to talk in private?
Russell: “Private” conversations undergo changes in the mind of the interviewer. I prefer that such exchanges be on public record.
Klinger: U want me 2 interview u on Twitter?
Russell: I do not wish you to interview me at all, but clearly that is not an option.
Klinger: We could call it a Twinterview.
Russell: Mr Klinger, if you wish my participation, I must ask that you refrain from whimsy. And excessive abbreviations.
Klinger: Sorry, Ms. Russell. Okay, no whimsy, & I’ll keep the questions suitable for all eyes.
Russell: I should hope so. And I prefer “Miss.” Now, may we proceed with this conversation? I have an experiment awaiting me.
Klinger: First, how does Mr Holmes feels about having inspired the creativity of more than a century of crime writers?
Russell: My husband does not care to discuss his feelings.
Klinger: OK, how do YOU feel re his having inspired 100 yrs of crime writers? People other than (sorry must make this 2 Tweets)
Klinger: —than Dr Watson were telling Holmes stories even as the originals were coming out. Why do u think they felt that urge?
Russell: They admired Holmes. They wished to speculate about him. So they made up stories.
Klinger: That’s it? Just a desire for more?
Russell: Nicholas Meyer (your friend?) claimed that Dr Watson was such a great writer, others saw the stories as a challenge.
Klinger: But NM was explaining why he wrote his books & doesn’t speak for others. I’m not even sure I believe his excuse.
Russell: I said claimed. I met Meyer when he was young. I think he wrote them through frustration with a mere 60 published tales.
Klinger: Does it bother u that writers make up fictions about your husband? Some of their stories are pretty outrageous.
Russell: I was young when I realised that since Holmes was seen as fictional, by contagion I would be so viewed as well.
Russell: Thus I have lived a long life with one foot in the real world and the other in the world of being perceived as a fiction.
Russell: My own literary agent, Laurie King, claims that it is necessary to categorise my memoirs—mine—as novels.
Russell: And since I expect that you will now ask how that makes me “feel”, I will admit that the sensation of being fictional, is—
Russell: —is indeed peculiar. What our—Holmes’ and my—friend Neil Gaiman calls the sensation of being “the idea of a person.”
Klinger: Neil is one of those contributing to this current volume—which we’re calling A Study in Sherlock.
Russell: I grasp the reference to the initial Conan Doyle story, but this assumption of first-name familiarity jars, a bit.
Klinger: Publishers, you know? This is the modern world. & you are after all American.
Russell: Half American, and I retain very little of the accent, or attitudes.
Klinger: Back 2 the questions. How did Dr Watson react? Some stories came out while his were still appearing in The Strand.
Russell: Uncle John had many shouting matches down the telephone with Sir Arthur, demanding solicitors be hired. To no avail.
Klinger: Well, we know what Shakespeare thought should be done with lawyers.
Russell: That may be a bit drastic. Some of my best friends have lawyer relatives.
Klinger: And, um, I’m a lawyer. At least during the day.
Russell: I know you are a lawyer, Mr Klinger. That was my feeble attempt at humour. We are also very aware of your New Annotated
Russell: —Annotated Sherlock Holmes. An excellent attempt at scholarship, which will do until Holmes’ own notes are published.
Klinger: May I ask when that will be?
Russell: No need to worry, Mr Klinger, it will be several more years.
Klinger: Right. So Dr W was upset, but not Holmes?
Russell: Holmes learned long ago to leave the shouting to Dr Watson. He finds it best to stay aloof of the literary world.
Klinger: Some stories in this collection are less about Holmes than about people affected by Dr W’s stories. Do you approve?
Russell: One might as well approve of breathing air, as of people falling under the spell of Sherlock Holmes, even second hand.
Klinger: So you do understand the appeal of the Sherlock Holmes stories over the ages?
Russell: My dear young man, of course I understand their pull. I was captivated by the stories long before I met the man.
Klinger: Speaking of captivation, may I ask about your relationship with Mr Holmes?
Russell: No. Oh dear, Mr Klinger, ominous noises from the laboratory require my immediate attention. Good luck with your book.
Klinger: Just another couple of questions, Miss Russell. May I ask, what is Mr Holmes doing these days?
Klinger: Miss Russell?
Klinger: Thank you, Miss Russell.
Four:
Brief Interludes
Short–short stories that cast light on
various events in the Russell Memoirs.
The massacre of the males is a yearly occurrence in the hive… (Language of Bees)
*
Only the pub had proved safe ground: When an Englishman orders a pint, his privacy is sacrosanct. (Beekeeping for Beginners)
*
One can always find chunks of débris to heave at wrong-doers. (Beekeeper)
A Venomous Death
Venomous Death followed an invitation from printmaker Mark Lavender, asking if there might be a Russell & Holmes story he could print on one page, as a broadsheet. There was.
I gingerly pushed my head through the doorway of the stone cottage to ask my husband, “The constable wants to know if it’s safe yet.”
“Oh, quite.” Sherlock Holmes
was squatting beside the small wooden crate into which he had knocked the swarm of bees five minutes earlier, holding its lid open a crack for the last stragglers.
I stepped in, keeping a wary eye on the crate. PC Harris, who had summoned Holmes an hour before—as a convenient beekeeper, not a consulting detective—ventured a look in, then retreated briskly into the pale October sunshine. Holmes, however, wasn’t even wearing a beekeeper’s net: swarming bees were generally not aggressive. Which made this death a puzzle.
“I’ve heard of swarms following a queen into odd places, but never through the open window of a man’s bedroom.” “They did not. This was murder.”
“Holmes,” I protested, “I’d have thought bee-sting a somewhat roundabout method of homicide.”
“Russell, Russell, bees swarm in summer. And the entire village knew the professor was deathly allergic to bee venom.” He absently scraped a stinger from the back of his hand.
“So a retired professor of philosophy had a mortal enemy who decided to chuck a hive of bees through his window?”
“You of all people should know how vituperative academics can be.”
“For heaven’s sake, Holmes, this was an expert on Aristotelian hermeneutics!”
“Ah, but his housekeeper told his gardener, who told Old Will over a pint in The Tiger, who in turn told me over the potato patch this very morning, that one of the professor’s oldest rivals in academia came to call recently, and their conversation ended in shouting.”
“About Aristotelian hermeneutics?”