Taking Stock of Reichenbach

It's time we took another good, hard look at those Canonical -- to use the term loosely -- bookends on either side of HOUN: namely, FINA and EMPT.

This will not be the first time these two tales have been called on the carpet. They have been debated, refuted, and puzzled over since the very beginning of Sherkockian scholarship. But the recent airing of the Jeremy Brett/David Burke version of FINA makes this an opportune time to point out once again the preposterous elements in the Reichenbach chain of events, even at the risk of bringing up twice-told tales.

We will admit that FINA and EMPT do, in some respects, deserve a position of prominence among Watson's chronicles. They happen to include some of the most vivid and memorable scenes in the Canon: the drama of a desperate struggle at the brink of a seething torrent; Watson's grief and horror as he realizes the grim portent of an abandoned Alpine-stock; the emotional shock when he who had been thought dead returns. All most deserving of a place of honor among the Sacred Writings. And all, as Holmes himself would not hesitate to point out, sentimental rubbish.

Holmes complained more than once that Watson, as his biographer, treated his cases with too much romanticism. It seems his fears were justified. For when examined in the light of logic, FINA and EMPT begin to fall apart.

There is no need to resort to such dissections as whether it would have been dark at this or that hour, the logistics of boot-reversal, or whether one means one-L or two-L llamas. The basic elements of the situation simply do not make sense. As Holmes once said in ABBE, "It's wrong -- it's all wrong -- I swear that it's wrong."

In the first place, we are to believe that a supposed criminal genius finds some compulsion to personally follow his nemesis all the way from London to the end of a narrow path in the heart of the Swiss Alps for the express purpose of engaging in hand-to-hand combat, while a confederate waits above with some big rocks to throw in case of a slipup. How absurdl If Holmes was such an inconvenience during the months leading up to this confrontation, why not nip it in the bud back in January, February, or March by sending a competent, yet disposable, minor underworld figure to shoot the man in broad daylight (at Baker Street or wherever you please) and be done with it?

But let us grant, for the sake of argument, that at least that much did happen as Watson says it did. Now we are to believe that after Moriarty fell, Holmes dodged rocks thrown by Moran-who for some reason is without his air-gun -- then, confident that the whole world would believe him dead (except for that guy with the big rocks -- details, detailsl), began the Great Hiatus then and there by running ten miles over the mountains. Right.

Moran didn't follow him? More to the point, Holmes didn't chase after Moran and toss him in the drink too. And how did Holmes stage-manage this alleged world tour from such an impromptu start . . . and why? (The real reason this time, please, Mr. Holmes.)

It is tempting, in fact, to do Holmes an injustice by suggesting that he bolted in panic before Moriarty ever climbed to the falls, spent three knee-knocking years holed up in the cellar of the Englischer Hof, and finally emerged to tell Watson a tale worthy of a pathological liar a la Saturday Night Live: "Then he threw some rocks -- I mean, some huge boulders at me. Yeah. And then I ran ten miles . . . yeah, I ran all the way to Florence! That's the ticket! Then I visited the llama-the head llama, yeah, and I went to Ro . . . to Mecca, yeah, that's it!"

There have been other theories about what really happened at Reichenbach and after. But the common element in all of them is that someone-Watson, Holmes, or Doyle- has given us a pack of lies. Just who did the fabricating, and what parts of the stories it involves, we may never know for certain.

But here's just one more theory. Perhaps Holmes, in giving Watson the "facts" about Moriarty, air-guns, baritsu, and llamas, was merely playing one of those peculiar jokes that suited his quirky sense of humor. He may have thought that a large dose of oversensationalized nonsense would serve Watson right. Or maybe he did it because he knew.that people like us would someday be studying the Sacred Writings, trying to explain the inexplicable . . . and enjoying ourselves immensely.

(Printed in Plugs & Dottles, April 1986)