[Holmes seemed to relish my reaction: "Observation, my dear Watson, must possess a certain continuity.
Note that while your hands bear the accumulated marks of the past year—rough skin and old scars—I see no very fresh scratches.
This indicates that you haven't stood by the operating table as a lead surgeon or assistant for at least several weeks recently.
How could a skilled young surgeon, in their prime, working at a top-tier hospital or a busy private practice, be so 'idle'?"
Holmes then sniffed:
"Furthermore, I wonder if you yourself have noticed that your clothes, particularly the cuffs and lapels of your coat, are tainted with a very, very faint scent, sweet yet tinged with bitterness."
I raised my arm and sniffed, smelling nothing.
Holmes explained:
"No need to bother, the average person's sense of smell would find it difficult to detect, but I am particularly sensitive to such odors. Besides, you have been immersed in it, so it's normal that you can't smell it—
That is the smell of laudanum. Though extremely faint, there is no mistaking it."
I paused, surprised:
"Laudanum? I haven't been taking it..."
Holmes stated with certainty:
"Of course, you haven't. If you were a regular user, you certainly wouldn't be looking so vibrant. Laudanum addicts present as listless, haggard, and mentally distracted.
So, where did this smell come from? It can only be that you frequently come into contact with it—not as a user, but as a compounder or dispenser."
His tone began to take on a sarcastic edge:
"In London clinics today—especially those second-rate establishments lacking patience and medical skill—laudanum has become almost a panacea. Pain relief, sedation, cough suppression, diarrhea relief, even lulling restless children to sleep...
Some quacks, for the sake of convenience and to pacify patients, prescribe a bottle to almost everyone who complains. I surmise that the clinic where you work may not be doing well, and the owner prefers to use such 'efficient' methods to retain patients.
As an assistant, you must frequently handle and compound it, and over time, your clothes have absorbed this difficult-to-remove scent. Isn't it a regrettable decline for a brilliant rising surgical star to waste their time in a second-rate clinic that relies on laudanum to sustain its business?
London, and indeed the whole of Britain, is unwittingly indulging in this 'convenient relief.' Doctors use it to appease patients, and patients rely on it to escape pain. It masks symptoms but never eradicates the root cause.
This is a slow poison, Watson. We mock the Qing people for being destroyed by opium, yet we turn a blind eye to the growing opium dependency around us. This is a 'curse of civilization.' We will use our own medicine and industry to brew the bitterest poison for ourselves."
I was speechless, a fine sweat even breaking out on my back.
In those few short minutes, I felt as if this person, whom I had only recently met, had thoroughly dissected me from the inside out.
All my hidden experiences and current circumstances were laid bare.
This ability was terrifying, yet incredibly captivating.
"That's... that's incredible!"
I finally found my voice.
"Mr. Holmes, everything you've deduced is absolutely correct!"
Holmes waved his hand dismissively, as if everything that had just transpired was trivial:
"This is merely a small example of applying my 'deductive method.' When we have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. And the process of elimination relies on the observation of details and logical deduction."]
Lionel put down his pen and gently blew on the ink to dry it.
Rewriting it this way undoubtedly made the deduction process much more solid.
From "housewife's hands" to subtle scars from limewater sterilization and scalpels, from the smell of laudanum to the background of its misuse as medication...
This version of Holmes provided more specific and era-appropriate observational evidence for each step, avoiding the arbitrary intervention of "intuition."
As for these details, they were mostly observed by Lionel during his hospitalization in London; the laudanum, meanwhile, came from a deep impression left after conversations with Dr. Bell.
Lionel was quite interested in the medical methods and limitations of this era.
After all, he didn't want to be bled, force-fed fecal soup, have his scalp cauterized, or have dirty hands plunged into his abdomen to search for an appendix and spleen should he fall ill.
If he could remain conscious, no matter the cost, he would insist on watching the doctors wash their hands and demand that the entire operating room be disinfected with acetic acid.
However, just this one deduction wasn't enough!
Lionel mused—after Watson's shock, he should develop a stronger interest in this "deductive method," even with a hint of doubt—
Could a single successful deduction perhaps have involved an element of luck?
[...Holmes seemed to read my mind:
"Watson, it seems you're quite interested in my little trick."
I was somewhat agitated:
"This is no mere trick, Mr. Holmes! This is... this is magic!"
Holmes corrected me:
"It is deduction, not magic! Logic is to reason what a telescope is to an astronomer, or a microscope to a biologist—it allows us to see the essence of things."
I still found it hard to believe, or rather, was unwilling to believe that a person's observational skills could be so acute:
"But, Mr. Holmes, forgive my presumption, perhaps... perhaps there was some coincidence in your previous deductions about me? Or perhaps you acquired information through other means unknown to me..."
Holmes chuckled:
"Doubt is the first step of the scientific spirit, Watson. Excellent. You are better than most who merely exclaim 'how amazing!' and stop there. This proves that, although young, you certainly have the potential to become an excellent physician.
So, to prove to you that this was neither accidental nor due to prior investigation on my part—please hand me any personal item you carry, anything at all.
Preferably something you carry daily and have used for some time. Let me see what I can read from it."
I instinctively reached into my pocket and touched a cold piece of metal—my pocket watch.
It was an old item my father gave me when I came to London for medical school, and I almost never parted from it.
I took out the pocket watch and examined it carefully: the silver case was somewhat worn, the cover was smooth, with no engravings or marks, no one's photograph, and the watch chain was also a plain silver one.
"Here."
I handed the pocket watch to Holmes, offering no further introduction.
I wanted to see what he could say this time.
Holmes took the watch, his fingertips gently caressing the case, as if feeling its history; then he walked under the lamp and examined it meticulously.
Time ticked by, minute after minute.
I held my breath, intently watching Holmes' every subtle expression.
Finally, Holmes held the pocket watch in his palm, raised his head, and closed his eyes, as if integrating all the information in his mind.
A moment later, he opened his eyes:
"A very interesting item, Watson. It tells me more about your family's story than about yourself."
A slight panic began to stir within me.
Holmes had mentioned "family's story," yet I had not mentioned it was a relic from my father.]
For this part of the deduction, Lionel did not directly copy from the original A Study in Scarlet, but rather drew inspiration from The Sign of the Four.
The Sign of the Four features a scene where a life is deduced from a pocket watch, a scene later paid homage to in the Benedict Cumberbatch version of Sherlock.
In Sherlock, Holmes, merely by examining Watson's brother's mobile phone, deciphered his tumultuous life.
Lionel decided to move the "pocket watch deduction" earlier but also needed to adjust it according to the new "Watson's" character setting.
(End of Chapter)