The Adventure of the Missing Elephant Man

On that brisk autumn morning of '83, I awoke to find Holmes seated in his easy chair, amid the haze of an entire evening's worth of pipe smoke. He was deep in thought and wasn't immediately aware of my presence.

"Another case so soon, Holmes? You've barely place the finishing touches on the last one. Or do you fear Professor Moriarity will make another assault on the crown?"

Holmes got up to empty his pipe into the unlit fireplace. "No, Watson. The Queen is safe. Moriarity and his Chinese rockets have been soundly thrashed. What peaked my curiosity was this package Inspector Lestrade delivered yesterday. He pointed to a hat box then handed me the note Lestrade had enclosed:

My Dear Sherlock Holmes (it read), My men came across this unique object on patrol along the water front. We have no line on it and knowing your penchant for puzzles, I suspect you might have a spot of fun with it. Good luck to you.

-Inspector S. Lestrade
Scotland Yard

"One of the few suspicions Lastrade has had that proved correct," Holmes slyly added whilst he re-filled his pipe with skag from his Persian slipper. "See what you can make of this, Watson."

From the box he removed a large newsboy cap. Not an ordinary cap but a large cap. A very large cap. Almost thirty-three inches in diameter. "A cap that size, possibly used by a circus clown or a music hall comic."

"Possibility but not likely."

Holmes turned the hat over in his hands, no doubt as he had done all night. "This hat is a regularly worn article of clothing. There are no traces of stage make-up on it."

"Holmes, you're not suggesting some one actually wears that hat as part of his normal attire?"

Spinning the hat on his finger he replied, "I'm not certain one would use the term 'normal' in regards to this hat. The size alone…" --Holmes put the hat on and it dropped to below his chin-- "would attest to that,"

"He must be of exceptional intelligence," I suggested,

"How so, Watson?"

"Simply a matter of cubic capacity. A head that large must be filled with something," I stated, recalling a point Holmes had once made.

Holmes removed the cap. "The head may be large because it is so full of dreams." I had no idea what he meant and before I could ask, he began relating what he had deduced from the hat as to the owner's identity:

"I believe we are looking for a diseased man. Note the inside band. One side is worn down normally. The right side has an unusual amount of dead skin tissue. See for yourself, old man." He handed me the hat and his convex lens.

"A growth, which has caused this poor man's head to swell to an unseemly size. The odors would suggest ulcerous sores which never heal. I also believe the disease has infected his face."

As to allow him to continue, I asked how he had deduced that piece of information.

"Traces of burlap along the sweat band. He is wearing a mask made of it, which tells me he is obscuring his face from the public. I can easily attribute that to this disease. He is left handed. Extremely left handed. The brim of the cap is frayed with use on the left side. Only the left side. Possibly the disease has affected his arm."

"Holmes, if what you're describing is true---," I began.

"If, Watson?"

"There is a very sick man wandering the streets."

"Perhaps." Holmes returned the hat to its box. "I don't think it is a contagious disease and he has had it quite some time, judging by the age of this cap." He seated himself and began plucking the strings of his violin.

"Someone like that would belong in a hospital, I would imagine,"

"Excellent, old man! Leave it to that military mind of yours to point the way. He was in a hospital. Until recently," Holmes said between snatches of musical notes.

"How on earth can the hat tell you that?" I demanded.

"Again, we look inside the hat, on the band." Which I did, making note of a tag that read "if lost please return to London Hospital."

Lastrade was a bigger dolt than Holmes could ever have assumed for having missed that. The hospital, the extent of the disease, it sounded familiar. Then a thought occurred to me. I dashed to my medical journals, filled with the prospect of having solved this mystery before Holmes. I found the proper volume and quickly came to the desired page. A medical study of one John Merrick by Dr. Fredrick Treves. The facts coincided with Holmes' deductions. Merrick was deformed, covered with sores, enlarged skull, distorted face and the useless right arm. I handed the book to Holmes, whose face lit up in a smile. Something I have rarely been in the presence of.

"Splendid, Watson, splendid. A first rate medical mystery solved by a first-rate medical man. But I believe you'll find a more detailed account in the volume dated 1882 with some news­paper clippings."

"Then you already knew whose hat it was?" I felt properly dejected having thought I could out-think the master detective.

Holmes placed his hand on my shoulder, "My dear fellow, I simply wanted to double check my conclusions, I was afraid I might be settling for an obvious conclusion. Talking over the medical aspects of the case with you made me certain."

Before I had a chance to absorb all this in, Mrs. Hudson knocked and entered. "There's a gentleman to see you, sir," she said handing Holmes a business card.

"Speak of the Devil and he shall appear," piped Holmes. "Please, show the good doctor up."

In a few short moments we were joined in our quarters by the eminent Dr. Fredrick Treves. A handsome, nay, dashing gentle­man he was. Well dressed in the manner fitting a physician to royalty. He removed his gloves as Holmes stepped forward to greet him.

"Welcome, Dr. Treves, to our humble abode."

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Holmes." The Doctor seemed to bear a great weight which he was anxious to have removed. Then, leaping right to his reason for his visit, he said, "I believe one of my patients has been abducted."

"John Merrick," replied Holmes.

Treves was shocked at first then almost amused. "I have heard and read of your almost magical powers in these incidences but they pale in direct contact with it."

"Hardly magical, Doctor," Holmes said as he brought Treves the hat case. "I merely, with the remarkable aid of my good friend, was given what our American cousins refer to as a 'head start' with this." He opened the case.

"John's hat!" Treves gasped. "Then you know his whereabouts."

"No, I know where he was when he lost his hat. Pray, be seated and please tell us what happened to your patient."

Holmes directed Treves to our sofa and he began his tale:

"John has been in our care for some time now. Since I rescued him from that ungodly freak show. Perfectly happy and cared for. I believe that he was taken by his former employer, Mr. Bates. He always resented me for taking John from him. I believe he is once again exhibiting Merrick as a circus freak."

Treves was again on his feet, pacing about the room. "Mr. Holmes, I am a very busy man. My duties, my patients, prevent me from looking for him myself. I need your assistance."

Holmes by this time had himself gone over to his table of chemicals and began mixing several flasks and test tubes. "It would be an honor to serve you. Also a bit of a vacation compared to some of the cases we've just finished. There was that one with Sigmund Freud and the other with Oscar Wilde, that business with Dr. Henry Jekyll and not to forget the episode with Count Dracula---"

"Really, Holmes," I interrupted, "Is all this name dropping necessary?"

"Right you are, Watson," Holmes said as he pulled his dagger from the wall and began flipping it into the back of the door. "The fact that the hat was discovered by the docks would indicate your Mr. Bates has taken his prize to the Continent. Or attempted to. The lost hat may point to a struggle and escape. John may be in hiding. There is much territory to cover."

Holmes by now had become involved in updating his press clipping files, pasting some back-logged articles into his carefully cross-indexed volumes. I spoke up, "Much too much territory for us to cover. The docks, London, possibly France."

"Once again your allusions to the unstated fact are well taken," Holmes replied. He then went to the window and opened it. Taking out a silver police whistle, he blew three short blasts and two longer ones. Within minutes the stairwell was filled with the sounds of running feet and several sharp comments by Mrs. Hudson. Holmes opened the door and let in the ragamuffins which constituted his Baker Street Ir­regulars.

"Johnny, front and center," Holmes called out sharply. Johnny, one of the older boys, stepped forward and snapped to attention. "Have you ever heard of 'The Elephant Man,' Johnny?"

"Blimey, yessir. I even saw 'im once. At the side show, sir."

Holmes strolled up and down the line of scallywags in the fashion of a major-general inspecting his troops.

"Very good. That will come in handy. Boys, you are going Elephant Man hunting. Check the water front, any back street or alley a man could hide. There's a shilling for each of you and a crown reward for the one who finds him--"

Before Holmes could finish announcing his generous bounty the boys had streamed out the door, down the stairs and onto the street.

"Well, that takes care of the city. Now, Doctor, in the likelihood that this Mr. Bates has spirited your ward across the Channel, I am forced to ask Watson if he is up to a trip to France,"

"If you believe I can be of service, Holmes."

"You're always of great service, Watson."

"Holmes, mightn't we enlist the aid of Toby? With the hat to get the scent from, I'm sure it would be very easy for that blood­hound to track him down."

"Excellent, Watson. Already you've proven your worth." Holmes was packing a few items. I did the same. Holmes turned to our amazed client, "Doctor Treves, I believe I can say that we will have your celebrated patient returned to you shortly."

Dr. Treves rose to exit. "Thank you, Mr. Homes. God bless you, sir."

The doctor had not quite reached the door, when a loud, sharp knock came from the door. Holmes had just doffed his Inverness and deerstalker cap and I had only just grasped my derby when the door swung open and in stepped a man of questionable station in life. A well-worn, seedy looking chap wearing his tattered frock coat with an air of dignity foreign to his social standing.

"Al-righty, where is 'e?" he bellowed.

"I beg your pardon," I stammered forth, outraged at this transient's interruption.

"Where's me precious? My little treasure." The man was now circling the room, looking for something. I was aghast. Holmes, as always, took it in stride.

"You'll find he isn't here. Not yet, anyway, Mr. Bates," Holmes replied dryly. He began unpacking. "You never did get Merrick to the Continent?"

"I sure enough did," he spat back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "Was making a tidy sum of change offa 'im, too. Me darlin' precious. 'Til those damn midgets let 'im free. Those midgets are cute, like me boy but not as darlin' as me Elephant Man. Now I wants 'im and I wants 'im now, Dr. Treves." Bates was about to grab for Dr. Treves. I reached for my firing arm, when suddenly another knock came at the door. The room became still.

"Who is it?" Holmes asked.

"John Merrick," was the muffled reply.

"Me precious!" Bates cried out, lurching for the door.

"My patient," Dr. Treves blurted forth, heading, too, for the door.

A shot rang out. Everyone, including myself, froze in his place. Holmes had fired his pistol into the wall, adding a new period to the 'V.R.' initials in the wall.

"Come in," he added.

The door opened. In hobbled a hooded figure. He was aided in no small way by a walking cane. The room filled with a foul stench as bad as any Holmes could concoct with his malodorous chemicals. Then he spoke.

"I am not a precious. I am a....human...being. I....am....a man."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Merrick. Won't you have a seat?" Holmes always knew the proper thing to say. He offered a chair to our strange guest.

"Thank you," he said. "You know, sometimes I think my head is so big because it is so full of dreams." I don't know how Holmes does it. Merrick sat down.

I could stand it no longer. "Holmes, what on earth is going on here?" My belongings had been packed away but I made certain my pistol was tightly in my hand. Holmes was now putting the finishing touches on a monogram exploring the possibilities of tracking criminals by taking ink prints of their finger tips.

Dr. Treves went to examine Merrick. "Doctor Watson, may I borrow your bag?" Honored, I fetched it. Treves began questioning his ward.

"How on earth did you find me here? You've only been to this section of town once,"

"An Elephant Man never forgets," was the reply.

Bates regained what passed for his composure and said his peace, "You're comin' with me, Johnny. We've 'ad the 'ubble refurbished just for you. We even put in a mattress for you to sleep on. Please, me darlin'."

Merrick answered, "I am not an animal, I am a human being. I am a man."

"Huh-uh," Dr. Treves said, "Now then, remove your mask."

Merrick removed his burlap hood. I must say, I was never one to surrender to reflexive bodily functions but I was certain I would soon see Mr. Hudson's breakfast again at the sight of this pitiable wrench. Treves began his examination.

"Say 'ah'"

"Sometimes I think I could sleep like normal people," Merrick said.

"'Ah' will suffice, thank you," the doctor chided.

"Please, let me 'ave 'im back, gov'ner," Bates pleaded, "Just for a little while." Bates was on his knees before Merrick, who looked more than a tad uncomfortable. The door again swung open.

"We found 'im, Mr. 'Olmes. The elephant man. We got 'im." In came Johnny and two of his squad.

Mr. Bates said, "Oh, what fine lookin' lads, mate. Very nice indeed. Not as fine as me boy but they would do in a pinch."

Holmes stepped between the boys and Bates. "Thank you, Johnny but we already have him here."

Johnny blinked and rubbed his eyes. His two companions stared, mouths agape. Johnny looked at Merrick very closely. "What are you doing with that Elephant Man?"

Mr. Bates held up his arms to shield Merrick, adding, "What Elephant Man?"

Finally finding his voice, Johnny blurted out, "Blimey, another one!"

"What are you talking about, boy?" I asked.

"Well, doctor," Johnny began, "Me and the boys 'ere were searchin' behind some tall fence way on the outside of town. We cut through some thick bushes and---"

"Yes, yes, go on, lad. Continue," Dr. Treves spoke up.

Johnny stopped to get his breath and began anew, "We cut through these bushes and we saw…dozens of Elephant Men!"

"Impossible, Holmes," said I, looking to Holmes for some sign of disbelief.

"Dozens of 'em, standing there, big as you please. And bones of hundreds more scattered all about. It was a sight." Johnny wiped the sweat from his brow. "Do we get our crown now?" he added.

Bates was back on his feet at this point. "'Undreds of me preciouses, you say?"

"Mr. Holmes, could they be lying?" asked the good doctor.

"I think not," Holmes puffed on his pipe a moment and continued, "I believe that the boys have stumbled upon the secret final resting place where they all gather when death is near."

"Holmes, you don't mean---?"

"Yes, the legendary Elephant Man Graveyard."

"Where is it, boy? Tell me!" Bates was shaking Johnny by the shoulders. Holmes simply grabbed Bates by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away.

"It's all right, Mr. 'Olmes. I'll show 'im where it is for a pound," Johnny said, as his two young cohorts left the flat.

"Gladly, gladly. Cheap at twice the price." Bates fumbled for his money purse as he headed out the door.

Treves sprang up and followed, "Wait, I must see this for myself."

"Simply incredible, Holmes." I said trying to regain my composure. Then realizing Merrick was still with us, I whispered to Holmes, "What about him, Holmes? Where can he go? What can he do?"

"Yes, John," Homes began, "I hear they are looking for some­one to play the lead in the next sequel to 'Alien.'"

Merrick grabbed his walking stick and quickly hobbled out saying, "Sometimes I think my head is so big because it is so full of dreams." And he was gone.

"Extraordinary. I should say this will make a most unusual tale once in writing."

Holmes was now searching for his needle. The case was solved and his active mind was racing still, despite its sudden completion. "I don't see why you should bother, old man. Certainly it can't be of interest to anyone."

I was puzzled by Holmes' reaction. His scorn for my previous attempts at documenting his exploits was not unknown to me but he seemed truly amazed at the idea of putting this one in print.

Holmes continued "Certainly, it's not like anyone will think of it or us years from now. Hardly an earth-shaking case. Compared to meeting with Gilbert and Sullivan or exploring King Tot's Tomb---"

"You're dropping those names again, Holmes."

"Quite. As I was saying, what interest could this poor man have for future generations? Be the subject of a stage play? Possibly they could make one of those flickers--motion pictures--about him. Next you'll be telling me his bones will be purchased by some popular entertainer. No, my friend, the chances of John Merrick's sorry case being remembered are about the same as, why, as my Baker Street Irregulars becoming some sort of international organization. Aah, here is my needle. Let's see if we can't put this day behind us."