“Greg Lestrade, I’m astonished at you. You know that Sherlock’s behaviour was dreadful, and yet you take his part! I suppose you’ll be saying next thing that he oughtn’t to be punished at all!”
“Well, no — not exactly,” said Greg uneasily. “I know he ought to be punished a little. But don’t be too hard on him, Mycroft. Remember, he hasn’t ever had anyone to teach him right. You’re — you’re going to give him something to eat, aren’t you?”
“When did you ever hear of me starving people into good behaviour?” demanded Mycroft indignantly.
“I seem to recall you refusing to allow me to put a certain something in my mouth, the last time you were cross with me,” Greg teased.
“Hush! The boy might hear you! How can you talk so, when there’s a child in the house?”
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
Sherlock came running in presently, his face sparkling with the delight of his orchard rovings; but, abashed at finding himself in the unexpected presence of a stranger, he halted confusedly inside the door. He certainly was an odd-looking little creature in the new dress Greg had bought him, below which his thin legs seemed ungracefully long. The wind had ruffled his hatless hair into over-brilliant disorder; it had never looked wilder than at that moment.
“Well, they didn’t pick you for your looks, that’s sure and certain,” was Sally Donovan’s emphatic comment.
Sally was one of those delightful and popular people who pride themselves on speaking their mind without fear or favour.
“She’s terribly skinny and homely, Mycroft. Come here, child, and let me have a look at you. Lawful heart, did anyone ever see such wild, unruly curly hair!”
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
“I’d love to call you Uncle Mycroft,” said Sherlock wistfully. “I’ve never had an uncle or any relation at all — not even a grandmother. It would make me feel as if I really belonged to you. Can’t I call you Uncle Mycroft?”
“No. I’m not your uncle and I don’t believe in calling people names that don’t belong to them.”
“But we could imagine you were my uncle.”
“I couldn’t,” said Mycroft grimly.
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“Greg Lestrade, I believe that child has bewitched you! I can see as plain as plain that you want to keep him.”
“Well, he’s an interesting little thing,” persisted Greg. “You should have heard him talk coming from the station.”
“Oh, he can talk fast enough. I noticed that at once. It’s nothing in his favour, though. I don’t like children who have so much to say. I don’t want a boy, and if I did he isn’t the style I’d pick out. There’s something odd about him. No, he’s got to be dispatched straightaway back to where he came from, and exchanged for a girl.”
“We could hire a girl from the village to help with the housework.”
“We’ve discussed this, Greg. We cannot afford to have some local girl carrying tales back to the village about how many beds have — or have not — been slept in. That last one we hired was too inquisitive by half. No, an orphan girl is what we need. Someone who is completely dependent on us, and so won’t talk out of turn. Someone with no connections on the island, so even if she does venture to say anything, there will be no one to pay her any heed.”
“It’s just as you say, of course, Mycroft,” said Greg rising. “I’m going to bed.”
To bed went Greg. And to bed Mycroft followed him, frowning most resolutely.
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“Call you Sherlock?” repeated Mycroft. “Is that your name?”
“It’sone of my names.”
“What is your full name?”
“William Sherlock Scott,” reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name. “But — oh, please do call me Sherlock. It can’t matter much to you what you call me, if I’m only going to be here a little while, can it? And William is such a boring name.”
“Nonsense!” said the unsympathetic Mycroft. “William is a good, plain, sensible name. You’ve no need to be ashamed of it.”
“Oh, I’m not ashamed of it,” explained Sherlock, “only I like Sherlock better. And it is my real name, only it comes in the middle. Please call me Sherlock.”
Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
Over a year went by before Sherlock’s hair grew long enough for him to look like a proper girl once more. It didn’t affect anything other than his vanity, though. Of course no one in Avonlea ever suspected him of being a boy. How would such an idea have entered anyone’s head? For a boy to go about wearing girls’ clothes was unheard of and unimaginable; therefore, the good folks of Avonlea did not imagine it. Any lack of femininity in Sherlock’s behaviour was put down to being raised by a couple of bachelors. As for his looks, well, if he kept on growing taller without growing any curvier, he must simply be a late bloomer.
Though Sherlock might be short on curves, he was never short on imagination — or trouble. He did his best to share the former with his friends, often unintentionally sharing the latter in the process.
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“Sherlock has no business to leave the house like this when I told him he was to stay home this afternoon and look after things. I must say, with all his faults, I never found him disobedient or untrustworthy before and I’m very sorry to find him so now.”
“Well,” said Greg, who, being patient and wise and, above all, hungry, had deemed it best to let Mycroft talk his wrath out unhindered, having learned by experience that he got through with whatever work was on hand much quicker if not delayed by untimely argument. “Perhaps you’re judging him too hastily, Mycroft. Don’t call him untrustworthy until you’re sure he has disobeyed you. Maybe it can all be explained — Sherlock’s a great hand at explaining.”
“He’s not here when I told him to stay,” retorted Mycroft. “He’ll find it hard to explain that to my satisfaction. Of course, I knew you’d take his part, Greg. But remember, I’m in charge of bringing him up, not you.”
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
“There’s so much to learn at school,” said Sherlock enthusiastically. “And I love writing compositions. Mostly Miss Hudson lets us choose our own subjects; but next week we are to write a composition on some remarkable person. It’s hard to choose among so many remarkable people who have lived. Mustn’t it be splendid to be remarkable and have compositions written about you after you’re dead?
“Oh, I would dearly love to be remarkable. I think when I grow up I’ll be a chemist, and perform brilliant experiments — or maybe I’ll be a detective, and solve the most baffling crimes. That would be very remarkable, wouldn’t it?”
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
“Although you can’t walk well enough to go back to school yet, Sherlock, I suppose we must have the new teacher up to tea someday soon,” said Mycroft reflectively. “She’s been almost everywhere but here. Let me see. Next Wednesday would be a good time to have her. But don’t say a word to Greg about it, for if he knew she was coming he’d find some excuse to be away that day. He’s going to worry that a lady school teacher will want to marry him.”
“I’ll be as secret as the dead,” assured Sherlock. “But oh, Mycroft, will you let me make a cake for the occasion? I’d love to do something for Miss Hudson, and you know I can make a pretty good cake by this time.”
Do you recognize a young Una Stubbs in the photo above as Miss Hudson?
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Mycroft was out in the orchard picking a panful of summer apples when he saw Mr. Hooper coming over the log bridge and up the slope, with Mrs. Hooper beside him and a whole procession of children trailing after him. In his arms he carried Sherlock, whose head lay limply against his shoulder.
At that moment, Mycroft had a revelation. In the sudden stab of fear that pierced his very heart, he realised what Sherlock had come to mean to him. He would have admitted that he liked Sherlock — nay, that he was very fond of Sherlock. But now Mycroft knew, as he hurried wildly down the slope, that Sherlock was dearer to him than anything else on earth, save Greg himself.
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Aunt Martha, thin, prim, and rigid, was knitting fiercely by the fire, her wrath quite unappeased and her eyes snapping through her gold-rimmed glasses. She wheeled around in her chair, expecting to see Molly, and beheld a white-faced child whose great eyes were brimmed up with a mixture of desperate courage and shrinking terror.
“Who are you?” she demanded, without ceremony.
“I’m Sherlock of Green Gables,” said the small visitor tremulously, clasping his hands with his characteristic gesture, “and I’ve come to confess, if you please.”
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
“My opinion is that you ought to let Sherlock go,” said Greg.
“Impossible,” retorted Mycroft. “We can’t allow him to sleep in a bed with a girl!”
“They’re just children. I’m sure Sherlock would never dream of doing anything inappropriate.”
“He’s done something inappropriate every single day since he arrived at Green Gables.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” conceded Mycroft. “And I agree with you, as far as that goes. But still, Greg, it’s too much of a risk. What if Molly — or, God forbid, Mrs. Hooper — discovers he’s a boy?”
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“Mrs. Donovan says Canada is going to the dogs,” said Sherlock. “She says if women were allowed to vote we would soon see a blessed change. Is that true, Greg?”
“It might be. Women can be pretty clever.”
“Did you ever court a woman, Greg?”
“Well… no, I never did,” said Greg, who had certainly never thought of such a thing in his whole existence.
Sherlock reflected with his chin in his hands.
“Courting must be rather interesting, don’t you think, Greg? Irene Adler says when she grows up she’s going to have ever so many beaus on the string and have them all crazy about her; but I think that would be too exciting. I’d rather have just one in his right mind.”
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
Sherlock flung himself into his studies heart and soul, determined not to be outdone in any class by John Watson. The rivalry between them was soon apparent; it was entirely good-natured on John’s side; but it is much to be feared that the same thing cannot be said of Sherlock, who had certainly an unpraiseworthy tenacity for holding grudges. He was as intense in his hatreds as in his loves. He would not stoop to admit that he meant to rival John in schoolwork, because that would have been to acknowledge his existence, which Sherlock persistently ignored; but the rivalry was there, and honours fluctuated between them.
Now John was head of the spelling class; now Sherlock, with a toss of his wild curls, spelled him down. One morning John had all his sums done correctly and had his name written on the blackboard on the roll of honour; the next morning Sherlock, having wrestled wildly with decimals the entire evening before, would be first. One awful day they were tied, and their names were written up together. It was almost as bad as a ‘Take Notice’ and Sherlock’s mortification was as evident as John’s satisfaction.
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Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade, confirmed bachelors who have recently moved to Avonlea, decide to adopt an orphan girl to help with the housework, rather than hiring someone local, who might be tempted to carry tales back to the village about how many beds were — or were not — slept in. However, the hand of fate steps in to deliver them a boy, instead. Since Sherlock could just as easily be a girl’s name, they decide to keep the child, and pass him off as a girl. Little do they know just how much trouble — and joy — Sherlock will bring into their lives.
Molly whispered to Sherlock, “That’s John Watson sitting right across the aisle from you, Sherlock. Just look at him and see if you don’t think he’s handsome.”
Sherlock looked accordingly. He had a good chance to do so, for the said John Watson was absorbed in stealthily pinning the long braid of Janine Hawkins, who sat in front of him, to the back of her seat. Presently Janine started up to take a sum to the master; she fell back into her seat with a little shriek, believing that her hair was pulled out by the roots. Everybody looked at her, and Mr. Anderson glared so sternly that Janine began to cry. John had whisked the pin out of sight and was studying his history with the soberest face in the world; but when the commotion subsided he looked at Sherlock and winked with inexpressible drollery.
“I think John Watson is handsome,” confided Sherlock to Molly, “but I think he’s very bold. It isn’t good manners to wink at a stranger.”
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