A Case Of Identity

“Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace.”

“A Case of Identity” presents the lowest-scale criminal activity so far in the Holmes series (low-scale in terms of physical violence, legally actionable offenses, and number of people involved; not in terms of seriousness or individual depravity). Holmes’s comment is a teaser for the drama to unfold; readers this time will look at a more suburban situation, involving only three close-knit people, and this sentence hints that, though not as bizarre and sensational as a homicide, this case is no less “unnatural” or worthy of attention.

“It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers.”

More than the novels, the short stories in the Sherlock Holmes canon exploit the seriality of the larger Holmes narrative, invoking previous episodes and anticipating future ones. Like an anthology television series, the stories reference each other (as this comment from Holmes references the previous story “A Scandal in Bohemia”) and present an intertextual work to be consumed regularly with each new publication. Conan Doyle’s Holmes tales were the most successful cycle of short stories published at the time and set a precedent for modern television.

“Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investigation.”

Not only does Holmes’s declaration bolster his previous point about the complexity of otherwise supposedly natural occurrences, but it also establishes his character as an art critic as much as a detective. He’s looking for a case that has “charm,” and he wants to find work in the lesser-known niche of “unimportant matters” because he feels it will provide greater challenge and fun.

“Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or grieved.”

The previous short story, “A Scandal in Bohemia,” indicates that Holmes has potentially—and only to a very nuanced measure—once before felt romantic interest toward a woman (Irene Adler). That Holmes identifies Miss Sutherland’s situation as “a love matter” indicates his adeptness in analysis even from a distance (Holmes speaks this line as he observes her from his window), and it heightens suspense for the reader, who, presumably remembering the previous story, will be more eager to watch how Holmes deals with romance after Irene’s departure.

“‘Never mind,’ said Holmes, laughing; ‘it is my business to know things.’“

Though he doesn’t reveal his methods of inference to Miss Sutherland, Holmes will disclose his observations to Watson a few pages later; however, moments like this (so frequent in the Holmes tales), in which Holmes conceals his thought process, are meant to do more than color the detective’s personality. Readers are meant to independently guess what Holmes is thinking and test their own analytic abilities. Conan Doyle is trying to produce little Sherlocks in his readers.

“Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines.”

Miss Sutherland does not suspect her stepfather of any evil, but the reader is meant to. Conan Doyle almost always gives his readers an early clue to the identity of the villain. This sentence, describing two states of living, juxtaposes each with the conjunction “but” in the middle. Miss Sutherland’s father was an honest worker who had the maturity and discipline to keep his company “tidy” or well-managed so that, even after his death, the widowed Mrs. Sutherland could be provided for—an honorable description. That Windibank, upon arrival, immediately throws away what the late Mr. Sutherland worked so hard to achieve—even more than this, that he is a seller of alcohol—pivots him as the opposite to the noble deceased. The careful reader is encouraged to look upon Windibank skeptically.

“He wouldn’t have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle.”

The irony of Miss Sutherland’s statement becomes clearer when the reader understands that Windibank (the “he” in this quotation) tried to romance, under the guise of Hosmer Angel, his own stepdaughter to (literally!) keep her in the family circle. Although Windibank’s motives are to get at Miss Sutherland’s money, this line touches upon a certain cultural attitude toward women that was predominant during the Victorian era and Conan Doyle’s lifetime: Women were pressured and expected to remain housekeepers and servants to their families. Windibank’s attitude typifies the oppressive situation women faced at this time.

“It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.”

Conan Doyle often gives the best lines to his primary character, Holmes. Such memorable quotations express a lifestyle of the mind that both protagonist and author advocate. The statement proves true in this story; the “little thing” of similarities in the typewritten letters breaks the case, and readers are left with a greater appreciation for details, which they can employ in this and future Holmes stories. The Holmes tales are both parables and games in which to enact the lessons taught, and the lesson here is: Pay close attention to little things.

“For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect.”

Watson expresses his admiration of Miss Sutherland, who is certainly a victim yet also maintains nobility and grace amid her hardship. It is significant that, even though he says “our” respect, this line comes from Watson, not Holmes—and in fact, Holmes never expresses anything like admiration for Miss Sutherland, though he somewhat sympathizes with her. Watson here provides the heart and soul of a story otherwise focused on intellect and logic. Miss Sutherland’s case is a puzzle waiting to be solved, but it is also more than that; Watson reminds readers of the human element, and Miss Sutherland’s “simple faith,” though maybe less effective for navigating life, is still honorable next to Holmes’s cold devotion to brainwork and unbending reason.

“You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important.”

In “A Case of Identity,” Holmes intuits the dilemma before Miss Sutherland even enters the apartment. When she arrives, he knows exactly what questions to ask and what details to look for. By the time she leaves, he is already planning to test his hypothesis of the culprit. Far from being at all flummoxed, Holmes finds this case one of the easier ones; he even calls it “elementary.” When Watson confesses he is stumped, Holmes here explains that the real trouble for Watson (and, by extension, for the baffled reader) is not a matter of Holmes’s superiority or greater experience, but one of simply knowing where to look. The skill of solving mysteries, Holmes implies, can belong to anyone who learns how to see.

“Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details.”

Holmes is, in some ways, his friend’s mentor, and this is a teachable moment for Watson. In his attempt to infer significant information from Miss Sutherland’s appearance, Watson has overlooked the important data that Holmes found when she first entered the room. Before listing those data specifically, Holmes utters this general advice to Watson (and, by extension, to the reader) so that his method can be learned, not just witnessed with awe and bewilderment. In this example, Watson was so distracted by the colors of Miss Sutherland’s clothing that he failed to notice the state of her sleeves, which would have revealed her profession as typist. That Holmes calls Watson “my boy” is perhaps a little patronizing, but it further defines their teacher-student relationship.

“I found Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him.”

Holmes is a complicated character; he never quite behaves predictably. Because he operates on the fringes of society—neither police officer nor criminal yet neck-deep in associations with both—he can display his eccentric personality without fear of being fired or shunned (since he is already more or less a social misfit and knows it). When Watson returns to Baker Street after a day away at a responsible job, he finds that Holmes has not been more responsibly passing his time in more socially acceptable activities but has, essentially, been playing with his chemistry set. His strangeness highlights the rarity of his qualities; only the outcasts and loners seem to rise to the level of masters of intellect.

“But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.”

While Holmes finds this case amusing and appears to jump into it with eagerness, sentences like this help balance his motives to deepen his character. Here Holmes scolds Windibank for the insidious scheme against his stepdaughter. Windibank, in a few paragraphs, will escape from both Holmes and the law itself and will go free—but for a moment the reader, as well as Holmes, draws the satisfaction of seeing the villain at least called out for what he truly is: cruel, selfish, and heartless. This also suggests that a lifestyle of the mind devoted to critical thinking and close analysis will lead to truth but not always to justice.