Young Sherlock Holmes: Bedlam (Short Reads) Read Free Page A

flickered all over Sherlock’s face, hands, clothes, everything. He nodded, as if he had just confirmed a conclusion that he had reached before
Sherlock had entered.
    ‘Stand in front of the desk,’ he said. His voice was thin, whispery. ‘My name is Doctor Williams. I am the Resident Physician at this institution. That means I have the final
say when it comes to any decision regarding the inmates – of which you are one. I should warn you that if you make any move to come around the desk, or exhibit any violent or unwarranted
behaviour, I will have no hesitation in calling on my attendants for assistance. Do you understand?’
    ‘I understand, sir,’ Sherlock said, moving to the front of the desk. ‘There has been a terrible mistake. I am—’
    ‘Be quiet. Answer questions when I ask them. Do not volunteer information, or I will have you removed back to your room.’ Williams paused, and glanced down at the ledger on his desk.
Sherlock noticed a small brass bell beside it. ‘Do you know your name?’
    ‘Holmes, sir. Sherlock Scott Holmes.’ He was about to say something else, but thought better of it.
    ‘Memory appears intact,’ Williams murmured, making a note in the ledger. ‘Locomotion and posture are reasonable for a boy of age –’ he glanced up at Sherlock.
‘How old are you?’
    ‘Fourteen, sir.’
    ‘– of age fourteen,’ he continued. He leaned back in his chair, which creaked beneath his weight. ‘I make it a habit formally to interview all new inmates. You have been
sent here because you exhibited severe manic behaviour in a public place. The police restrained you, and a doctor present at the scene certified you insane. You will stay here until I – and I
only – am convinced that you have recovered. Do you understand?’
    Sherlock’s head was spinning. He was desperate to explain himself. ‘I understand,’ he said, ‘but I am not insane!’
    ‘Nobody who is insane believes themselves to be insane,’ Williams said. ‘It is, I dare say, one of the defining characteristics of insanity.’ He nodded. ‘I have, as
you might expect, made no small study of insanity. I was previously Assistant Doctor firstly at Derby County Asylum and then at the Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire and Huntingdonshire County Asylum.
Eight years ago I was appointed Assistant Physician here under Doctor William Hood, whom I succeeded six years ago as Resident Physician. I tell you this so that you know there is no way you can
pull the wool over my eyes. I can tell when someone is mad, and I can tell when they are sane.’
    ‘But, sir—’ Sherlock started desperately.
    Williams kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard the interruption. ‘I am of the firm opinion that insanity is a hereditary disease of the brain. I have, for instance, seen several cases
of babies delivered of women – I can hardly call them “ladies” – who are inmates here at Bethlehem. These babies were steeped in madness as they lay in the womb, and my
attendants have told me that they have acted like devils from the moment they were born.’
    It occurred to Sherlock that any baby born in a place like Bedlam, with all its screams and cries and the slamming of doors, would be likely to scream and cry themselves, and that was regardless
of whether their mothers were properly able to take care of them, but he kept quiet. He suspected that Dr Williams did not like to be interrupted when he was pontificating.
    ‘Under my predecessor, the esteemed Doctor Hood,’ Williams continued, ‘insanity was treated – if you can call it that – with drugs and with rest and with seclusion.
This is not an approach that I believe works well. I would rather tie a patient down constantly than keep him always under the influence of a powerful drug. I have known cases of chronic insanity
benefit materially – although not be cured entirely, of course – by a prolonged period of time in a padded cell. I have also observed several patients who