The Autobiography of Sherlock Holmes by Sherlock Holmes, Don Libey Page B
Authors: Sherlock Holmes, Don Libey
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in those six months of obsessive study in 1899. With his words, “Mr Holmes, you were born to be a nose and to ‘see’ truth through your art,” he signified my ranking with those who have mastered the perfumer’s traditions.
One of my most accomplished formulas was the basis for Mr Penhaligon’s final, minor adjustment in 1901 and, I am pleased to recall, was launched in 1902 as “Blenheim Bouquet,” one of the firm’s immortal fragrances and one that was considered as an entirely new direction in scents. During its formulation I tried over one-thousand variations while working at The Organ for over two-hundred hours to finally arrive, simultaneously, at the celebrated finished scent and the total deductive insight that led to the completion of the most difficult case in my entire career, that of the cannibal Jainists of Covent Garden, an obscene perversion of mankind that can never be revealed to the public. My solution was due to absolute perceptive clarity stemming from my use, in the final formula, of four drops of a six-percent solution of ylang-ylang for the top note. This triumph of aromatic blending triggered a further triumph of pure deduction and logic; all other debris was swept from my mind, and what remained was the truth and final solution. I had synthesized the perfumer’s art and the criminologist’s art and had passed into a new state of enlightenment through stimulation.
In 1901, I assembled an extensive Organ of my own and housed it in a small shop located in Great Russell Street only a few blocks from my rooms. The premises were a ‘half-shop,’ one divided into two from a single full-sized shop. The next-door tenant was Dorsett’s, the renowned bespoke umbrella-makers to European royalty only. Initially, I used the shop as a combination bolthole and secluded sanctuary for concentration. In 1905, however, a former Penhaligon apprentice named Silas Wheeler who, upon qualifying his nose, had gone to work for the elegant London perfumer, Creed, came to me when Creed moved his business to Paris. He suggested that he take over my now fully-furnished and unparalleled Organ to create a line of scents under our combined names to be called Wheelock’s. After consideration, we agreed to proceed under the trade name Sherler’s and soon had sufficient custom to pay expenses and provide Wheeler with an ample salary. By 1910, Sherler’s had become a favourite of the gentry and was honoured with a Royal Warrant from the Prince of Wales for eau de cologne. In 1920, I presented Wheeler with my Organ and full-ownership of the firm and he continues in business today, a solid and respected success.
Before Wheeler’s expansion into the umbrella maker’s half of the shop in 1920, Sherler’s had a small front service counter and customer reception. Located behind was the laboratory and The Organ. Two smaller rooms were behind the laboratory, one was a bedroom with en suite and the other was a storage room for shop supplies. Many evenings, I worked at The Organ and often retired to the bed chamber rather than return to Montague Street. Oddly, the clarity I gained during my hours at Sherler’s was extraordinary when compared to that gained in my rooms. It was, doubtless, the absence of tobacco. Tobacco smoke is the bane of perfumers and is never allowed in the laboratory or the shop. While a fog of shag concentrates my absorption of a problem, the crystalline atmosphere of the laboratory is where the discernment of truth occurs. And I must have both in order to function at the level of genius that I demand of myself. Mycroft, who has cerebral abilities that outpace even mine, has evolved his nose and palette in much the same manner, except he has done it through the mastery of obscure Highland whiskies.
11
Every case—and there were many—that I was concerned with over my long career was stimulating. I can recall all of my cases even now, and I can present the salient facts and deductions leading to
One of my most accomplished formulas was the basis for Mr Penhaligon’s final, minor adjustment in 1901 and, I am pleased to recall, was launched in 1902 as “Blenheim Bouquet,” one of the firm’s immortal fragrances and one that was considered as an entirely new direction in scents. During its formulation I tried over one-thousand variations while working at The Organ for over two-hundred hours to finally arrive, simultaneously, at the celebrated finished scent and the total deductive insight that led to the completion of the most difficult case in my entire career, that of the cannibal Jainists of Covent Garden, an obscene perversion of mankind that can never be revealed to the public. My solution was due to absolute perceptive clarity stemming from my use, in the final formula, of four drops of a six-percent solution of ylang-ylang for the top note. This triumph of aromatic blending triggered a further triumph of pure deduction and logic; all other debris was swept from my mind, and what remained was the truth and final solution. I had synthesized the perfumer’s art and the criminologist’s art and had passed into a new state of enlightenment through stimulation.
In 1901, I assembled an extensive Organ of my own and housed it in a small shop located in Great Russell Street only a few blocks from my rooms. The premises were a ‘half-shop,’ one divided into two from a single full-sized shop. The next-door tenant was Dorsett’s, the renowned bespoke umbrella-makers to European royalty only. Initially, I used the shop as a combination bolthole and secluded sanctuary for concentration. In 1905, however, a former Penhaligon apprentice named Silas Wheeler who, upon qualifying his nose, had gone to work for the elegant London perfumer, Creed, came to me when Creed moved his business to Paris. He suggested that he take over my now fully-furnished and unparalleled Organ to create a line of scents under our combined names to be called Wheelock’s. After consideration, we agreed to proceed under the trade name Sherler’s and soon had sufficient custom to pay expenses and provide Wheeler with an ample salary. By 1910, Sherler’s had become a favourite of the gentry and was honoured with a Royal Warrant from the Prince of Wales for eau de cologne. In 1920, I presented Wheeler with my Organ and full-ownership of the firm and he continues in business today, a solid and respected success.
Before Wheeler’s expansion into the umbrella maker’s half of the shop in 1920, Sherler’s had a small front service counter and customer reception. Located behind was the laboratory and The Organ. Two smaller rooms were behind the laboratory, one was a bedroom with en suite and the other was a storage room for shop supplies. Many evenings, I worked at The Organ and often retired to the bed chamber rather than return to Montague Street. Oddly, the clarity I gained during my hours at Sherler’s was extraordinary when compared to that gained in my rooms. It was, doubtless, the absence of tobacco. Tobacco smoke is the bane of perfumers and is never allowed in the laboratory or the shop. While a fog of shag concentrates my absorption of a problem, the crystalline atmosphere of the laboratory is where the discernment of truth occurs. And I must have both in order to function at the level of genius that I demand of myself. Mycroft, who has cerebral abilities that outpace even mine, has evolved his nose and palette in much the same manner, except he has done it through the mastery of obscure Highland whiskies.
11
Every case—and there were many—that I was concerned with over my long career was stimulating. I can recall all of my cases even now, and I can present the salient facts and deductions leading to
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