The sterling reputation of Sherlock Holmes as a detective is legitimately based upon a combination of a keen ability to reason from observation coupled with a high level of personal energy. Holmes is not above waiting for hours in the dark to catch his culprit, disguising himself for long spans of time in uncomfortable ways, or even living in a rough shelter on a rainy moor so that his client doesn’t know that he is close at hand and observing.
At the same time, it is worth pointing out that Holmes frequently subjects his clients to unnecessary danger, so as to satisfy his own curiosity about the precise nature of the peril they face. In “The Hound of the Baskervilles”, Holmes intentionally uses his client as bait, knowing full well that whatever danger he faces is capable of being fatal, since it already killed an escaped convict. In “The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist”, Holmes repeatedly exposes his client to an unknown pursuer, who later turns out to be armed. In “The Adventure of the Speckled Band”, Holmes leaves his client in the power of her violent stepfather, who he suspects of having killed her sister (though he does relocate the client on the night when he expects her assassination to occur). In “The Adventure of the Priory School”, Holmes leaves the son of the Duke of Holdernesse with his kidnappers for an unnecessary span of time, so that he can explain the manner in which he located him with maximum drama and in a way that earns him £6,000.
All this demonstrates the dangers of choosing a consulting detective who is obsessed with solving the puzzle, potentially at the expense of the welfare and safety of the client. Someone more inclined to precaution and less obsessed with solutions may be a better choice, for those who value their lives more highly than precise answers.
(As a separate criticism, Holmes sometimes allows murderers to go free because he personally approves of the murder they undertook most recently, for instance in “The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton” and “The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot”. This may not be so commendable from a public safety standpoint.)
Stories where he saves the client but never solves the puzzle would be rather boring, no?
In fairness, the victim in ‘Milverton’ definitely had it coming, and the murderer showed determination and class. Gunning down blackmailers and grinding your boot in their dead faces is a serious business, but doing it may not mean you are a danger to society.
One feature of Holmes’ identity was that he was a private detective for hire. This provided him with the luxury of letting go murderers go free which a member of a public police force could not do, no matter how much they might want to. I could understand a polic force not expending its full resources on tracking down a murderer in a dispute between two organized crime gangs.
That would still be a good time to invest police resources in solving the crime, I think. For one thing, it might stave off a spiral of private revenge between the gangs.
Solving the crime may not cost that much. General police insight into the gang activities, and informants and other tools can probably quickly lead the police into any cases to know the identity of the murderers or at least their gang affiliation relatively quickly within a reasonable belief.
It is the prosecution to the required standard of “proof beyond a reasonable doubt” that costs excessive monies. Police and court costs of prosecuting gang members can be very draining on the public purse, with uncertain results. I would be OK with turning away from expending those costs.
I don’t think we should be skimping on the investigation and prosecution or murders, regardless of who the victims are or who we think the murderer may be.
If we want to reduce the cost of the legal system, it would be enormously more sensible to stop criminalizing drugs. That would also cut off a major source of revenue for organized crime groups.
Another slightly questionable practice of Arthur Conan Doyle is avoiding ambiguity through the use of criminals who conveniently happen to by dying. We’re spared from seeing what a British court would think of Jefferson Hope’s revenge quest in A Study in Scarlet, for example.
Similarly, the expectation of imminent death and a desire to avoid scandal (perhaps Holmes’ most questionable moral impulse, along with his automatic deference to the high-ranked) leave John Turner unpunished in The Boscombe Valley Mystery.
Sometimes this is addressed by Holmes or Watson saying that the guilty party will face a more demanding trial in the afterlife, but it’s awfully difficult to understand Holmes as a genuine man of faith.
it’s awfully difficult to understand Holmes as a genuine man of faith
What about his behaviour seems to contradict “genuine” Christianity?
He does describe a belief in heavenly judgment and life after death at times, particularly in terms of comments about how dying criminals will soon need to face a higher court than the sort established by human beings.
At the same time, supernatural beliefs don’t seem to influence his day-to-day decision-making.
This post may be of interest: Did Sherlock Holmes Believe in God?
On Facebook Aaron Mize noted an especially egregious example:
The excellent blog An Observance of Trifles has some comments on this:
Re: The Abbey Grange the site points out:
Perhaps it makes a bit of sense given Holmes’ frequent view that if the police aren’t able to figure out a case he isn’t obligated to help them — “I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies” — but this still seems quite random and cavalier.
Definitely one of Holmes most questionable decisions:
Another fair criticism:
Excerpts from ‘Sherlock Holmes and his Times’
The Complete Prose of T. S. Eliot: The Critical Edition: Literature, Politics, Belief, 1927–1929, ed. Frances Dickey, Jennifer Formichelli and Ronald Schuchard (Baltimore, 2015)
“But every writer owes something to Holmes. And every critic of The Novel who has a theory about the reality of characters in fiction, would do well to consider Holmes. There is no rich humanity, no deep and cunning psychology and knowledge of the human heart about him; he is obviously a formula. He has not the reality of any great character of Dickens or Thackeray or George Eliot or Meredith or Hardy; or Jane Austen or the Brontës or Virginia Woolf or James Joyce: yet, as I suggested, he is just as real to us as Falstaff or the Wellers.”