Prologue

I have chronicled a great many of the confounding mysteries solved by my dear friend Sherlock Holmes, but as I peruse my notes from our adventures, I realise that I have done myself a disservice in describing Holmes as ever the 'first violin' in our little ensemble and relegating myself in every case to the rank of second fiddle; for this has not always been the case.

Indeed, as limitless the great detective's powers of deductive reasoning may seem, there are some small chinks in his armour. One of these I discovered upon our first meeting when I found Holmes's knowledge of our solar system to be gravely lacking – although to date this has been no liability in his role of consulting detective to Scotland Yard, as every case brought before him has had its solution to be found firmly planted on terra-firma.

The brain of Sherlock Holmes may indeed be faultless in matters of poisons, weapons, criminal behaviour, footprints, guilt and a thousand other arcana upon which the key to a case may turn; but there is one subject that shall be forever beyond the reach of his enormous intellect, and that is the thoughts and desires of the fairer sex.

Though rarely a barrier to his deductive method, Holmes's ignorance of women, their passions, and most especially their bodies; is complete. I do not mean to imply that Sherlock – how should I put this? – prefers the company of gentlemen; just that he is to all appearances, utterly asexual; and never was this more apparent than in The Case of the Virgin Bride. In fact, were it not for my timely assistance, then due to the elevated status of the persons in the matter, it may have become a permanent stain in his otherwise impeccable record.