Seeking relief in the Canon
It was a chilly evening as I scanned the Times for coverage of Holmes’ recent success. I doubled over the paper and rested it on my knees as footsteps echoed without, and all of a sudden there was a loud rapping on the rattly door.
“Watson! You’ve been in there for 20 minutes. Our carriage awaits if we are to make the 11:20 from Waterloo!"
“Holmes ! There’s a more pressing loo situation right now. How long was that grouse on the sideboard that we partook of to celebrate our successful resolution of this case of the missing stomach.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the trifle?” mused Holmes, and I heard his boots spin on the spot as Holmes trod off to placate the carriage driver out on Baker St."
The above is not in fact the start of a low-brow comic pastiche, but highlights an absence in the canon. Much like the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, we are faced with the curious incident of the toilet in the night-time: ‘But the toilet did not flush in the night-time’. That indeed is a curious incident, given the universal need to do so for every character in the canon, multiple times a day.
There are a range of terms that might have been used in Victorian times to refer to the room (or device) one might use to relieve oneself: lavatory, water closet (W.C.), toilet, loo, commode, crapper, privy. The rich linguistic adaptation of humanity is reflected in the emergence and evolution of the may terms used to describe the toilet. Today (2022), there is certainly cultural and geographic divergence in addressing the delicacies of relieving oneself. As a youth in Australia the practical and direct statement query be “where is the toilet?”, where the toilet was the name for the room, as well as the flushable receptacle within. I was amused to spend time in England and learn the term ‘“loo' and the vague ‘W.C.', and moreso to settle in the US and learn that the bathroom was referred to using misdirection as the “restroom”. In what way was it restful?Am I doing it wrong?
Across fifty-six short stories and four novels in the canon I have been unable to identify any direct reference to the use of a toilet or chamber pot, nor any visit to an outhouse, for what we may coyly refer to as number 1s or number 2s. Furthermore, a survey of many illustrations of the canon (Mike Foye, ’Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Illustrations Volume II ; Nicholas Utechin, ’The Complete Paget Portfolio’ ; BSI Manuscript Series, 'G.K. Chesteron’s Sherlock Holmes’) revealed no toilet, outhouse, or chamber pot in any illustration.
A critical point to make when surveying the canon is that the meaning of the word ‘toilet’ itself has evolved. Today, we know ‘toilet' to refer to a porcelain basin one can sit upon to urinate or defecate into (or stand over if one is suitably endowed and skilled). The word derives from the French word ’toilette’, which refers to the act of washing and dressing in preparation for the day ahead, and it was also used in this sense in Victorian England. These preparations would take place in the bedroom where a washstand and mirror might be situated (or possibly a room with a bath, called a 'bathroom'). This is a critical point that may disconcert the modern reader of the canon.
There are three separate references to ’toilet’ in the canon, each clearly (and reassuringly) describing ablutions, not emmissions. In ’The Adventure of the Three Students’ (set down by Baring-Gould as occurring April 5-6 1895, but first published in 1904), Watson described spending the evening at his lodgings when "At eight in the morning {Holmes} came into my room just as I finished my toilet.” In ’The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge’ (set down by Baring-Gould as occurring March 24-29 1890, but first published in 1908) when Mr. Scott Eccles arrives at 221B, Holmes deduces that "no one can glance at your toilet and attire without seeing that your disturbance dates from the moment of your waking”, which Eccles affirms with the statement "I never gave a thought to my toilet. I was only too glad to get out of such a house.” The informality of Holmes conducting toilet in the evening at the successful conclusion of ’The Dying Detective’ (set down by Baring-Gould as occurring November 19 1887, but first published in 1913) is perhaps most insightful with the delightful imagery of Holmes “...as he refreshed himself with a glass of claret and some biscuits in the intervals of his toilet” (the Victorian equivalent of a shower beer?).
No chamber pot? Holmes in his bed in ’The Dying Detective’, as shown in the 1913 illustration by Walter Paget in The Strand Magazine.
It is reasonable to assert that a contemporary (2022) conversation would not use the word ‘toilet’ in conversation as employed in Victorian times. Yet neither Baring-Gould (1967) or Klinger (2005) chose to annotate the Victorian usage of the word and provide clarification for the reader.
Accepting that the word ’toilet’ was reserved for… not the toilet… what options would Holmes and Watson have had to relieve themself, say around 1895? Certainly in late Victorian London, a sewer system existed, and flushable toilets were available. Open sewers feeding into the Thames reached crisis point with the Great Stink of 1858, stimulating a bill to be rushed through Parliament that resulted in the construction of 1,300 miles of covered sewers under the direction of Sir Joseph Bazalgette, the Chief Engineer of the Metropolitan Board of Works. The London public toilet ‘arrived’ on the scene thanks to George Jennings for the 1851 Great Exhibition, and the male-dominated underground public toilets were opened in London from 1885 (the first at the Royal Exchange). As such, Watson and Holmes were in a position to ‘go’ while they were on the go around London.
The flushable toilet was developed throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, with the S-bend to prevent the back flow of noxious air from pipes and sewers being patented in 1775. The flushable toilet with a cistern high overhead, allowed toilets to be situated in outhouses (in many cases replacing the pit or can), and by the 1890s toilets installed in dwellings in a ‘water closet’ were not uncommon. Acts of Parliament in the twentieth centuries mandated the installation of an indoor water closet (toilet) in new homes (1919), and provided for improvements to existing properties to install a toilet.
By 1895, it is reasonable to assume that 221B Baker St would have installed a water closet within the building, or by extension on the back of the building. Bernard Davies’ detailed essay on the precise location of 221B (’The Back Yards of Baker Street’ in ‘Holmes & Watson Country’) assesses all information shared on the exterior of the lodgings, and reminds us that in ’The Problem of Thor Bridge’ (set down by Baring-Gould as occurring October 4-5 1900, but first published in 1922) Watson obeyers that "the last remaining leaves were being whirled from the solitary plane tree which graces the yard behind our house”. Critically, there is no mention of an out house standing in the yard, lending argument to the water closet/toilet being located within the 221B building proper.
There was a room containing a bath on the floor above Watson & Holmes’ sitting room (where Watson’s bedroom was also) as in ’The Sign of Four’ (set down by Baring-Gould as occurring September 18-21 1888, first published in 1890) "A bath at Baker Street and a complete change freshened me up wonderfully. When I came down to our room I found the breakfast laid and Holmes pouring out the coffee.” This acting of bathing by Watson upstairs, and the inferred presence of a bath room, has received attention. For example, Newton’s 1956 reconstruction of 221B described the back yard area of 221B containing “a coal shed, and…. A solitary plane tree” but no out house, and speculates that the bath room was located on the top floor of 221B (above the sitting room). The inference here is that the toilet is located at the highest point in the building.
This bath room should not be mistaken in the modern sense as containing a toilet. A modern US definition of bathroom (single compound word) is "a room in a house or public building that contains a toilet” (Collins Dictionary), but the 1923 Webster’s Dictionary defines a bath room (two words) as “a room to bathe in”. This diversion into baths leads to a point: the presence of a bath, or bath room, in 221B does not necessarily indicate the location of a toilet. In fact, it may not have indicated plumbing, and hot water may have been carted up flights of stairs to enable Watson’s bath in 1895. And so, the occupants of 221B are still left hopping from one foot to another wondering where the toilet is.
The toilet in 221B is most likely on the ground floor (the first floor for the American readers and publishers), located toward the back of the building. This would provide a facility for all members of the house hold, including Mrs. Hudson.
We know Watson to be a discrete and considerate narrator. Watson withholds some thrilling stories from Holmes’ accomplishments to protect the parties involved, and changes the names of others. It is no surprise that his proprieties extend to avoiding references to Holmes ducking into a public lavatory as they marched through London.
For even Toby in 'The Sign of The Four' “...looked neither to the right nor to the left, but trotted onwards with his nose to the ground and an occasional eager whine which spoke of a hot scent.” Really? The path from Upper Norwood to Broderick and Nelson’s large timber-yard was likely around 7 miles and would have taken almost 2 hours to talk (less accounting for Tobie’s quick pace). Surely a new trail of scent was created by Tobie for other canines to follow as he led the way through 'Streatham, Brixton, Camberwell’. But when we analyze the text, we find room for Tobie’s diversion on a patch on grass. Upon arriving at Miles Street and Knight’s Place (close to the final destination), Toby ceased and 'Then he waddled round in circles, looking up to us from time to time, as if to ask for sympathy in his embarrassment’. Here then, we find direct evidence of relief in the Canon, in the form of Toby’s break, and the embarrassment taking the form of his very public act. Toby had held on till he could hold on no more. Watson has the humanity (caninanity?) to acknowledge that a break was necessary, six miles into his olfactory pursuit. Thus refreshed, Toby led onwards.
Viewed through the lens of the need for toilet breaks, the canon presents many moments where one cannot but wonder whether a calamity occurred that was covered up by Watson when editing his casebooks for publication, or perhaps whether a story with a toilet would have been very different. In ’The Hound of the Baskervilles’ Holmes spent time secreted on the moor, which was effectively a vast privacy with many a boulder to hide behind. Perhaps when Watson discovers Holmes’ vacant hideout, Holmes was off behind a boulder, and spied Watson approaching. Modesty will prevent us from knowing.
The lack of access to a toilet could have huge impacts on a case. This article does not allow a detailed analysis of all 60 stories in the canon, but exemplars are presented. Percy Phelps spent two months in his sick room at Briarbrae in Woking in 'The Adventure of the Naval Treaty’, while his future brother-in-law Joseph Harrison waited in frustration for an opportunity when the room would be unoccupied to recover the stolen documents. We can only conclude that Phelps used a bed pan that meant he never left the room, otherwise Harrison would surely have simply waited a few hours (rather than months) for Phelps to shuffle off to the out house or water closet. That there was no water closet near Harrisons room at Briarbrae is perhaps supported by the fact that the compartment under the carpet where the Naval Treaty was hidden contained gas pipes for heating, but no water pipes. Sherlock himself may have used the garden at Briarbrae - when he spent hours in the gardens waiting to capture Harrison, he describes to Harrison and Watson that during this watch, he reached a clump of rhododendrons and "There I squatted down and awaited developments.”
Stakeouts and watches require patience, and time. In 'The Adventure of the Naval Treaty’ Holmes describes the stakeout as long, "almost as long, Watson, as when you and I waited in that deadly room when we looked into the little problem of the Speckled Band”. These waits also required silence and stillness. Holmes could rely on himself, but in "The Adventure of the Speckled Band”, how could Holmes be sure Watson wouldn’t plan ahead? Many a time Holmes would ask Watson before setting of an an adventure "Have you a pistol, Watson?”. Watson certainly casts himself as a dashing sidekick, armed and ready to act, but perhaps the truth is that Holmes was actually asking Watson a more critical question before leaving 221B: “Do you need to visit the water closet before we leave, Watson?”.
Many mysteries remain to be resolved. What contingency did Holmes, Watson, Merryweather and Jones have, when they set about a long wait in a bank vault in the Red Headed League? In this instance, Holmes Brought a pack of cards for the wait, but luckily for the group the wait was but an hour and fifteen minutes. Nevertheless, there must have been some uncomfortable moments in the still and dark of the vault.
I am told that as one ages, the need to visit a water closet increases in frequency. So perhaps, statistically speaking, the later stories in the canon offer better opportunities to catch our duo in the act (so to speak). In “His Last Bow” we do not have the benefit of Watson’s narration to provide intimate insights, and instead an unknown narrator describes the story. And so perhaps there was some deception when Holmes invited Watson to "Stand with me here up on the terrace” just before departing on the long car drive to London. What truly happened off the terrace? Perhaps the reader will be relieved to read that we’ll never know.
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