WORK IS THE BEST ANTIDOTE TO SORROW 

Sherlock Holmes was standing and smiling at me across my study table.

In some manner he had learned of my own sad bereavement, and his sympathy was shown in his manner rather than in his words. 'Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson,' said he, 'and I have a piece of work for us both to-night which, if we can bring it to a successful conclusion, will in itself justify a man's life on this planet.' In vain I begged him to tell me more. 'You will hear and see enough before morning,' he answered. 'We have three years of the past to discuss. Let that suffice until half past nine, when we start upon the notable adventure of the empty house.' It was indeed like old times when, at that hour, I found myself seated beside him in a hansom, my revolver in my pocket and the thrill of adventure in my heart.--"The Adventure of the Empty House"

Like many Sherlockians, I've often found Arthur Conan Doyle's treatment of the reunion of Holmes and Watson in "The Adventure of the Empty House" to be a bit unbelievable if I'm being kind, or a whole lot ridiculous if I'm not. However the scene contains one of those lines from the canon that is always memorable: "Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson."

When I was new to Doyle and the work, I blithely assumed the sorrow reference meant the death of Mary Morstan for Watson, perhaps written by Doyle after the death of his first wife, Louisa. I was, of course, wrong about all of it.

The matter of Watson's wives is beyond my scope here but certainly from my reading with the Sherlockian Chronologists Guild I know we can not be sure we are talking about Watson's wife much less specifically Mary Morstan. We are not talking about Doyle's response to the death of his wife either. "The Adventure of the Empty House" first published in Collier's magazine in September 1903 (US) and in The Strand Magazine in October 1903 (UK). Louisa Doyle died July 4, 1906.

After reading closely about Doyle's first marriage, I've come to believe that perhaps he would not have written the scene with as much emotional recklessness if he had been writing after the death of his wife.

In Teller of Tales, Daniel Stashower explains how Doyle reacted to the death of his wife:

"...as his wife was laid to rest in Hindhead, the cumulative stresses of the thirteen-year illness sent Conan Doyle to his lowest ebb. Tortured by insomnia, he grew weak and listless. His work ceased. The intestinal complaint of his South Africa days returned to plague him. He carried flowers to his wife's grave and spent dark hours alone with his thoughts. It would be months before he roused himself."

Despite the months of darkness he endured, Doyle did take his own advice. Towards the end of 1906 he threw himself into the George Edalji case, working tirelessly to help the man. The work helped restore him. By September 1907 he was ready to marry again.

He was ready to go on, just as Watson was ready to forget the previous three years, forgive Holmes for the deception, and return to the game, with "...the thrill of adventure in my heart."

Why this rumination on grief and work today? Our household has suffered a loss this week and grief abounds at the moment. Several times in the last three days I've told myself "'work is the best antidote to sorrow' so you might as well get on with it."

Several days ago, before, I planned to write here about the effects of the chronology of Watson's wife/wives on my own work but my heart wasn't in it today. Today seems to be about just one memorable line. 

Hopefully I'll soon feel like returning to the game, with a thrill of adventure in my heart.