Free The Autobiography of Sherlock Holmes by Sherlock Holmes, Don Libey Page B

short fleshy fore-finger to especially succulent pieces in the dish. There is no doubt the ingredients were mysterious; but they were well-flavoured, well-seasoned, and always relished by me and by Watson. With a bottle of Chablis or Claret, Bertollini’s food was a pleasant interlude from the roasted joint or the never-to-be-avoided chop to which the London tavern-diner was eternally condemned. Bertollini passed from life in 1910 and his restaurant was ceremoniously closed upon the closing of his coffin.
    Watson enjoyed his whisky, never to excess, but well-appreciated after a long day at his surgery or after a longer night on the moors during one of our adventures. We maintained a small stock of vintage wines below stairs at Montague Street. Our wine and spirits merchant was Josiah Vamberry until his murder in the cellar of his establishment in Fleet Street. He was found badly corked with a wine key screwed into his brain and the word ‘trahi’ scratched into his forehead. I quickly connected the murder to two unsavoury characters in the employ of one ‘Archison’ who was implicated in a vast European conspiracy to destroy the French wine trade. The mysterious and deadly Archison was linked to a chateau in Margaux unexplainably owned by an obscure stationmaster in the West of England. Any connexion to Vamberry could not be established, but I remain steadfast in my belief of Moriarty’s involvement. Regardless, we provided our spirits and wine custom thereafter to Francis Davy in the Strand beginning in 1870, who continues to supply my fine wine needs today.

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    At the outset of this reflection, I stated that it was my intent to expand upon Watson’ masquerades and inaccuracies found in his body of writings about our years together. When one reads the various stories, one is given Holmes through Watson, and Watson is often generous to Holmes to a fault.
    There exist a number of textual and factual inaccuracies, created intentionally by Watson, that portray me in a more favourable light. Ever my Boswell, Watson sought always to put me at the heroic centre of the stories (how I abhor that word; these are historical, scientific archives, not ‘stories’ which imply fictions). I cannot allow these untruths to endure and, here, will set but three to rights, although there are fifty-six other instances of intentional inaccuracy in the entire written collection.
    In the matter of Silver Blaze, Watson’s text has me replying to Gregory’s question, ‘Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?’ with the words, ‘To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.’ Gregory retorted, ‘The dog did nothing in the night-time.’ I supposedly re-joined with, ‘That was the curious incident.’
    The truth, in fact, was quite different. Watson had been particularly acute during our investigations at Dartmoor. More than once, he had surprised me with connexions that imparted insights to my findings. I had specifically asked Watson for his impressions and insights on the case and his reasoning was quite beyond his normal performance. During our walk across the moor, when we reached the hollow and I remarked with a bit of smugness to Watson, ‘See the value of imagination’ he came out of his reverie, looked at me and said, ‘But, Holmes, what about the curious incident of the dog in the night-time?’ It was I who replied, ‘The dog did nothing in the night-time’ and it was Watson who penetrated to the truth asking, ‘Was that not a curious incident, Holmes?’ From there, I made immediate inferences leading to proofs, and we know the outcome. But good old Watson went to some pains to write the narrative in a way that deflected the flash of deductive brilliance from him, placing it entirely upon me.
    A second moment of prescient illumination visited Watson during the case involving Sir Robert Norberton and our investigations in Berkshire. It occurred at the Green Dragon when Watson and I were