Arthur Conan Doyle was completely at a loss.
These pieces of information seemed completely unrelated, a hodgepodge of topics ranging from meteorology to tobacco studies, urban planning to religious research, geology to botany...
It was practically like the random notes of a scholar with vast but unstructured knowledge, rather than the background material needed for a detective novel.
For a moment, he even harbored a suspicion:
Was Lionel deliberately using these strange requests to test his patience and sincerity?
But soon, Conan Doyle dismissed the thought.
He recalled Lionel's emphasis in his letter that he wanted his deductions to be as rigorous, realistic, and robust as possible.
Professor Bell's voice seemed to echo in his ears again:
"Observation and logic are the cornerstones of medical diagnosis, gentlemen. Never rely solely on appearances or a patient's self-report.
Trust the details you see with your own eyes; they will tell you the truth."
Conan Doyle suddenly had an epiphany.
Sherlock Holmes's miraculous deductions were precisely built upon countless such seemingly insignificant pieces of obscure knowledge.
Judging the brand of a cigar by its ash to infer the smoker's economic status and habits;
Determining a person's specific region in London by the unique mud stuck to their shoe sole...
Weren't these the daily clinical practices of Dr. Bell, applied to literature?
A sense of mission welled up within him.
He, Arthur Conan Doyle, had a responsibility to meticulously collect these scattered materials and create a real and credible "great detective, Sherlock Holmes"!
Wasting no time, Conan Doyle immediately demonstrated his efficient and intelligent side.
Regarding London's weather records, he remembered reading in a popular science magazine about a "Royal Meteorological Society" in London, whose members were astronomy and meteorology enthusiasts.
He immediately wrote to the society, politely explaining that he was a medical student and, due to an "important academic research project," requested detailed meteorological data for London over the past two months.
To increase his chances of success, he even enclosed a small sum of money as a token of thanks and for the cost of transcribing the data.
The most challenging and, frankly, amusing task was undoubtedly the study of cigar ash.
Conan Doyle himself was not wealthy; smoking cigars was a luxury for him, and he knew nothing about them.
Fortunately, Lionel had provided £50 in funding.
He went to a reputable tobacconist in Edinburgh and bought as many different cigars as possible, from various origins, brands, and price points.
From expensive Havana to cheap Manila, he bought one of each.
Back in his apartment, he began this "arduous" research.
He lit a cigar, carefully took a puff, coughed violently, and then observed the changes in the burning tip with bated breath.
Waiting for the ash to fall naturally, he then collected the ash from different cigars separately in labeled glass vials.
He then meticulously recorded the color, texture, whether it caked, and the differences in smell after burning, even diligently drawing sketches.
After several days, his small apartment was filled with a lingering tobacco smell; his eyes were irritated, and his fingers were stained yellow, yet he thoroughly enjoyed the process.
Fortunately, his neighbors merely assumed the young man had developed a smoking habit.
As for the appearance of London's poor districts, this was a challenge for him, being in Edinburgh.
He first wrote to several classmates interning or working at London medical colleges, asking them to describe their surroundings.
He also wrote to several major London newspapers, requesting to purchase or copy recent property rental and sales advertisements.
These advertisements usually included simple house descriptions and introductions to the surrounding environment, which, though brief, could provide crucial information.
Additionally, he wrote to a struggling painter cousin in London, asking him to sketch the poor districts when he had time and send the detailed drawings to him.
He promised to pay a corresponding fee.
Regarding Mormon activities in Britain, he went directly to the Edinburgh University Library, flipping through bound volumes of mainstream newspapers like The Times and The Scotsman from recent years, carefully searching for any reports related to "Mormonism."
He focused on news involving missionary disputes, marriage systems, property disputes, or legal actions, and diligently made excerpts.
He also gathered some critical perspectives from religious studies journals and anti-Mormon pamphlets.
As for information on clay and pottery clay sources, the geology department library and specimen room at Edinburgh University became his treasure trove.
He spent a great deal of time consulting geological survey reports, transcribing data on the characteristics of clay around London.
Collecting "personals" advertisements from newspapers was relatively simple; he wrote to friends in London, asking them to buy various tabloids and clip out the relevant sections to send to him.
This process was tedious, time-consuming, and sometimes even frustrating.
Conan Doyle often stayed in the library late into the night or repeatedly compared cigar prices to save a few shillings.
He personally experienced the immense effort required for writing, especially writing that strives for factual detail.
This was by no means a task that could be accomplished solely by inspiration and talent; it required patience, perseverance, a rigorous attitude, and a vast store of knowledge.
His admiration for Lionel grew day by day during this process.
He could hardly imagine how Lionel, by himself, could conceive a novel like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, spanning such a vast period and rich in detail.
This sense of awe for creation made him approach each task at hand more seriously.
Weeks later, Conan Doyle had accumulated a thick stack of materials before him:
Neatly transcribed meteorological data records, boxes of meticulously labeled cigar ash samples, sketches of London districts and property advertisement clippings sent by friends, news excerpts and notes on Mormonism, geological data transcripts, and a stack of missing persons advertisement clippings.
He carefully categorized and organized all the materials, bundling them neatly in thick paper.
He sat down and wrote to Lionel again.
In his letter, he first enthusiastically expressed his profound admiration for the opening of A Study in Scarlet, believing that Sherlock Holmes was destined to become an immortal figure in literary history, and the method of deduction would certainly be enshrined in history.
Next, he detailed the process of collecting each piece of information and enclosed all the physical materials and notes he had gathered.
At the end of the letter, he solemnly wrote:
[...My dear Lionel, through this task, I have gained a deeper understanding of your noble pursuit in creation.
These seemingly trivial details are undoubtedly the indispensable foundation for building the character of Holmes. I am honored to share this part of the work with you.
At the same time, please allow me to once again express my admiration and delight; reading the opening of A Study in Scarlet feels like witnessing the birth of a legend.
Mr. Holmes is so vivid that I can almost smell the tobacco in 221B Baker Street and hear the melodies when he plays the violin.
If you permit, I eagerly wish to participate more in the creation of this great story.
Whether it is gathering more information, verifying details about medicine or London, or simply providing feedback as an enthusiastic reader, I would be profoundly honored.
And I, Arthur Conan Doyle, hereby solemnly pledge to be your most loyal "Watson" in the realm of literature!]
(End of Chapter)