I just finished reading an article from last week’s New Yorker titled, “Mysterious Circumstances: The death of a Sherlock Holmes scholar”. It’s a fascinating article that chronicles the life and death of Richard Lancelyn Green, one of the world’s foremost Sherlock Holmes scholars. Green was found dead in his apartment, garroted by a shoestring (especially odd, since Green wore boots without string), with no signs of forced entry or struggle. Just prior to his death, he had told friends that he feared for his life, and that he was being pursued by “the American”, a man who had pushed for the auction of the rarest of papers owned by Arthur Conan Doyle’s descendants (an auction Green tried unsuccessfully to prevent). Further implicating this man was the odd voice on his answering machine, which was clearly that of an American, and strangely replaced Green’s normal message.


I read the complete Sherlock Holmes stories not too long ago, so this whole thing was particularly of note for me. But what I found to be most intriguing about the whole affair, is how perfect it all seemed. Sure enough, the author came to the same conclusion I did: there was no murder, and in fact, it was all an elaborate suicide. Apparently Green had recently begun to question his life’s work, even going so far as to say to a friend, “I’ve wasted my whole life on a second-rate writer”.


So where he failed in life, he decided to succeed in death, creating an elaborate suicide that would be the talk of Holmes scholars for years to come. As for the question of how he garroted himself, he was found clutching a spoon, which could have (and likely was) used to tighten the string around his neck.


Unfortunately, this article isn’t available online, however there is a Q&A with the author up on the New Yorker’s website. It’s worth a read. It’s not the whole story of course (it’s a super-abbreviated version) but it’s better than nothing.


I can’t help but think this is the sort of thing that would make a great movie. Although I fully realize that in doing so, I’ve cursed any chance of this being made into one. Although I suppose the last time a movie was made from a New Yorker article (or at least, a movie based on a book based on a New Yorker article) that turned out decent enough.