My first impression as I opened the door was that a fire had broken out, for the room was so filled with smoke that the light of the lamp upon the table was blurred by it. As I entered, however, my fears were set at rest, for it was the acrid fumes of strong coarse tobacco which took me by the throat and set me coughing. Through the haze I had a vague vision of Holmes in his dressing-gown coiled up in an armchair with his black clay pipe between his lips. Several rolls of paper lay around him.
“Caught cold, Watson?” said he.
“No, it’s this poisonous atmosphere.”
“I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it.”
“Thick! It is intolerable.”
“Open the window, then! You have been at your club all day, I perceive.”
“My dear Holmes!”
“Am I right?”
“Certainly, but how?”
What’s not to love about Holmes and Watson?
In The Hound of the Baskervilles we have another adventure of the two, but unlike in other stories, Watson takes centre stage for a lot of the story. There is nothing wrong with that, of course, but the stories do live off the chemistry between the two characters.
I am not going to give away any of the plot here, but there is a certain scene in Chapter 12 that I love best of all of the story. Although, I have to admit, the idea of a lepidopterist chasing across the Dartmoor moors with a butterfly net also appeals to my sense of whimsy.
Anyway, this story is not about butterflies. It’s about a hound and boots and murder, and I loved it.
What’s more, in my favourite adaptation, the producers took some liberties with my favourite scene – not the one with the lepidopterist – and added it this absolute gem – Holmes cooking!
I know, I should have saved this for the Sunday Soup post, but I didn’t want to spoil people’s appetite.
You’re welcome! 😉